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Author's Notes & Chapter One - Confession

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
Oookay, so, what's the deal? A new thread for The Bringer? What am I, rebooting it?

Well, yeah.

Let me explain my reasons inside this spoiler so that the people who are just newly coming into this don't have to read (as big of) a wall of text:

In 2023, I was doing pretty well with the first version for a long time with a wonderful update schedule. However, I kind of ended up going through some additional mental stuff in 2024 that caused me to dread writing more of it because of one plot thread of the story that kept bringing really bad memories back to me. I also got stuck with my perfectionism because the freaking Ducklett Program kids weren't being rotated like they would have realistically been, and this was apparently a super big problem and very annoying to fix, so it blocked me from advancing.

As a consequence, the draft got stuck for months and months. Eventually, though, I decided that I couldn't keep just waiting to feel comfortable enough to continue and that I had to just try again with the story, this time leaving out that distressing plot thread and fixing the rotation problem as I go (possibly. I sort of also have stopped caring about it since as it's something no one reading would ever pay attention to). I also like the idea of revamping what was already there, because I've gotten better at outlining now and in general it's easier to fix something that's off than to create something perfect from the get-go.

So, here we are. I'm going to be posting a revised and/or rewritten version of the story in this thread and sunsetting the previous one. The reason I don't just edit posts in the old one to match new ones is because I do still want to keep the context for all the feedback I got so I know what people were reacting to.

Oh, but I haven't explained to the people clicking on this what the story actually is. If you're entirely new to my works in the Hunter, Haunted series: hi, welcome, although I'm going to have to tell you to click away in just a bit. This story, The Bringer, is the sequel to my story Hunter, Haunted. This series was originally written as a Twitch Plays Pokémon fanfiction, but I really ended up with something that had so much of my own artistic license to it that I would rather call it an AU. Don't know what Twitch Plays Pokémon is? Don't worry. A whopping majority of readers of Hunter, Haunted and the old version of The Bringer had no extensive TPP experience, with many never even having heard of it before. For most of this two-part fic series' history, it has been written with an audience of general Pokémon fans in mind (I mean, ignoring the niche appeal of a villain protagonist), and it has fared very well in that in my opinion. Knowing TPP lore will not make or break this story but only bring a small enhancement that isn't necessary for the intended reading experience.

Anyway - when I told you I would tell you (new readers) to click away soon, I mean that you should click on that link of Hunter, Haunted in the previous paragraph. This story can't really read out of order, and if you were to do so, you would also spoil a lot of the first story. So, be patient and check out the first story first.

Once you get back, though, welcome to the thrilling continuation of Red's saga! Let's go through the content warnings so we're all on the same page. This story contains:
  • depictions of violence and gore that may be very strong
  • disturbing/disgusting concepts and imagery such as body horror, cultism, torture and cannibalism
  • psychological and existential horror
  • themes of mental illness such as depression and anxiety as well as attempted suicide
  • emotional domestic abuse
  • strong language, some misogyny, some homo- and transphobia, which may include slurs
  • some sexual content and mentions of sexual assault as well as a depiction of an attempted one.
Due to all this, The Bringer is rated mature. It's not grimdark, though. The setting continues to be nice, and it's only the protagonist and some people around him that deal with dark themes.

One more thing: if you're returning to this story after its old version, you should know that there is a lot that's gone unchanged (especially in the beginning), but also that a few plot threads have been dropped completely. It's probably been a while since you read the old one, though, so you'd need to reread it for a refresher anyway. I hope that's fine.

Okay! Thank you for bearing with me, and I hope you enjoy this revision. I intend to finish the story in this, too, and that's a promise. As for feedback, it's once again encouraged and appreciated - I really want this story to be the best it can be. I have no particular preferences for what type of feedback I'd like, so please, speak your mind freely. Thank you, and here we go.

---

bringercover.png


THE BRINGER

Synopsis:
After the events of Hunter, Haunted, Red is convinced he is no longer suitable to be the Bringer, the one who will merge with HELIX and bring back the Helixian Kingdom. He must find someone else to fill the position within the next six months or die.

Genre:
Drama, Horror

Started:
First version started 23rd July 2023
Second version started 22nd May 2025

Status:
Ongoing

Length:
TBD (projected to be between 100-200k)

---

Chapter One content warnings: gore, body horror. Rating: mature.

---

CHAPTER ONE
Confession


---​

It’s wet. It’s cold and dark and wet.

I’m lying down on something slimy. I’m naked. So this must be…

Oh Gods.

The sea of tentacles around me rises, wraps around my limbs, and lifts me up to a vertical position. I’m fastened tight. Tight enough for me to know this is not a friendly meeting.

In the darkness ahead, a giant eye opens. It’s got a thin, slit pupil and it glows yellow, illuminating the environment. It’s staring right at me.

Then another eye opens. Another, and another. Soon enough, there’s a whole wall full of them. And all are staring at me.

“RED.”

The voice is a whisper, but a deep, loud whisper. I shudder, and it’s not even because of the cold. My heart is beating faster and faster.

I swallow. “My lord,” I respond.

“I SEE THAT YOU HAVE HAD QUITE THE ADVENTURE.”

I nod, neck tense. “You could say that.”

“AND I SEE THAT YOU HAVE GONE THROUGH A REVERSAL OF PRIORITIES.”

HE must be talking about Him.

“My lord, I can explain.”

“NO,” HE growls. “THERE IS NOTHING TO EXPLAIN. YOU HAVE PUT HIM BEFORE ME. YOU KNOW I DO NOT LIKE THAT.”

My heart is pounding already. “My lord, I am sorry, but I have tried, and it is not possible to do what you ask of me. Our bond was forged in madness, and it can’t be undone.”

“DO NOT SPEAK TO ME ABOUT WHAT IS POSSIBLE AND WHAT IS NOT,” HE hisses. “I KNOW THAT BETTER THAN YOU, MORTAL.”

The word ‘mortal’ brings shivers down my spine. Without HIM, I am mortal. Someone that will die. I can’t afford to lose HIS favor.

“WHAT IT SEEMS LIKE TO ME IS THAT YOU HAVE NOT TRIED ENOUGH,” HE booms. “I KNOW THAT BOND CAN BE SEVERED, AND YOU HAVE NOT DONE THAT. THAT MEANS YOU HAVE DISOBEYED ME.”

A lone tentacle rises from the sea and curves to face me like an arbok. Its tip splits open, and a shining blade emerges. Oh no.

“AND YOU KNOW WHAT MUST BE DONE WHEN ONE DISOBEYS.”

I struggle in HIS grasp, but as soon as I do, it gets even tighter. It’s cutting off the circulation to my arms and legs. HE is serious about this.

“My lord, please,” I wheeze. “Have mercy.”

“PREDATORS DO NOT HAVE MERCY,” HE says, and HE is right. That was a stupid request. Still, I had to try…

The blade-tipped tentacle slithers closer. “PERHAPS THIS WILL BRING YOU PERSPECTIVE.”

It hits me how vulnerable I really am. I really, really don’t want that blade to touch me. “My lord, no, I --”

The blade strikes, driving into my abdomen. Pain. White-hot pain. The sensation of my organs being severed. The sensation of my scream in my throat.

It’s quiet.

It’s warm and dark and quiet.

I’m lying down on something soft. I’m only half-naked. This must be… my bed.

I sigh in relief. Just a nightmare.

But that’s only a small comfort. Because I don’t know how that meeting will go, and it might as well go like this.

I bring my palms to my face and breathe for a bit. It’s okay. It’s okay, at least for now.

I should go back to sleep.

---​

“Morning.”

“Morning,” I respond to Abe’s greeting, then return to watching Fonz and Him. The nidoking fetches the omanyte’s backpack and grabs it with his powerful claws. They’re going to be leaving soon.

“Three days until court,” Abe reminds me. I shudder. I’d say I don’t like to be reminded, but I have to be so that I won’t miss it. That would be catastrophic for me and my freedom.

“And tomorrow the lawyer’s coming over,” he adds. “Don’t forget that, either.”

I already had. Dammit.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, as if there’s any question.

“Of course I am,” I answer. “I could be looking at ten years.” Still a ridiculous sentence for briefly holding someone hostage at knifepoint.

“I’m sure you won’t get that,” he says. “You were possessed. They have to take that into consideration.”

“They could still determine I was doing it under my own volition,” I say. “Which means full sentence.”

Abe shifted in his seat. “Well, if it helps any, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks. It doesn’t.”

“Okay, We’re leaving,” Fonz calls from the hall. I get up immediately, leaving my sandwich on the table, and walk over. Fonz is waiting with Him in his claws and the backpack thrown across his leather jacket covered back.

I smile and lean in towards Him. The omanyte looks back with happy eyes. “Have a good day at school, my lord,” I tell Him.

“Thanks, I will,” He responds. “Bye.”

“Bye,” I echo back, and the two walk out of the door.

Oh, how I love Him. Love. It feels so good to be able to admit it.

“Do you want them to be there?” Abe asks.

I turn around. “Gods no,” I spit. “I don’t want my lord to see me treated like a criminal. He barely knows what happened, and that’s the way I want it.”

Abe fidgets with his hands.

I sigh. “What?”

“It… might be better if you don’t call Him ‘your lord’ in there,” he says. “It’s not exactly…”

“Sane?” I huff. “I know. I’m crazy.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s fine, I already know that,” I say. “And I know well enough not to let them see it. I didn’t show it in the psych eval, either. I’m used to having to pretend to be normal.”

“I just want them to see your best side.”

“It is my best side,” I mutter, returning to the table. Well, it is. My love for Him may have been created out of a thousand voices screaming at me when I was twelve, but it’s the most human part of me. The rest is quick to anger and bloodthirsty and overall unfit to live in this society.

“I better hurry up,” Abe says and starts making himself a sandwich. You do that. You have school, after all, unlike me, the pathetic stay-at-home.

I finish my own sandwich and make my way over to the couch. I turn on the TV and search the channels for something bearable. That redecorating show is on. I guess I’ll watch that until Abe leaves.

It’s not too long before that happens. “Bye,” Abe says as he heads out the door, and I say ‘bye’ back. I wait thirty seconds after he’s gone, then turn off the TV and get up.

It’s time to head to the basement, and… meet HIM.

---​

I’m not getting much done here.

I pace back and forth, trying to think of the optimal thoughts to have in my head while facing HIM, but they always fall short. There’s just no way to express how certain I am that I really can’t sever that bond while also being very, very sorry about it. Then again, it shouldn’t matter. HE is going to see into my mind and pry until HE sees everything HE needs to see. I’m just terrified that HE will see something I don’t know, some indication that I really hadn’t tried my best and this bond is only staying due to a lack of effort.

Dammit. I’m never going to face HIM at this rate. I’m just too afraid. But I have to see HIM before court, or it might be ten years before I see HIM again. HE and I need to make some plan. Will HE wait for me if I get the full sentence, for one? Or will I be too much out of the optimal age to become a host? Will HE want me to return HIM to that cave I found HIM in so that HE can search for someone else? Or will HE kill me on the spot for failing HIM? Oh Gods --

No, don’t scare yourself like that. HE wouldn’t kill me. HE would be discovered if HE did, and HE doesn’t want that attention. If HE killed me, HE would wait until I’ve returned him to that cave, at least. And I’d like to believe that HE and I have enough history for HIM not to dispose of me so readily.

I stop myself and sigh. Maybe I should wait until tomorrow after all. I still have two days. Maybe I can think of some angle that’ll lessen HIS anger by then.

Or… maybe I already have everything I'm gonna get in terms of arguments, and what I need is just more confidence.

I might know a way to achieve that…

I walk over to the bookcase on the right wing of the room and crouch down to open the cupboards. Eight numbered jars stare back, each with a disembodied human tongue suspended in fluid save for the last one, which is dry with a lock of pink hair. I sigh.

I wanted to take a look at my trophies to remind myself what a deadly predator I am and how there's no way that HELIX will just throw me to the curb, but this final jar really has the opposite effect.

I let my overconfidence get the better of me when I put on that golden mask, and it nearly cost me everything. And it cost Michi her life, too. And the fact that I see that as a bad thing makes me doubt my predatorship even more.

It's not like I lie awake at night thinking about how Michi is dead. How she's in the void, in eternal torment, just like everyone else that has died - save for the few lucky bastards that reincarnated as ghost mon. Still, it bothers me whenever it comes to mind. Michi was promising. She wasn't just a mareep like my other victims. She didn't deserve to die.

I mean, then again, she was always going to die no matter what. Even if I could have converted her into a predator, she would have eventually died of old age. That's something that I never liked thinking about - that even predators who'll be awarded superior bodies in Judgment will still ultimately wither away. But my lord has said that this is simply how it must be. If the predators knew that they would keep living no matter what, they wouldn't push themselves. And if they wouldn't be replaced by newer generations, they wouldn't evolve. Makes sense to me. Just doesn't feel good. But, well, it's all the fault of the Third Being for creating life in the first place.

Still, dying later is always better than dying sooner. I robbed that from Michi. I robbed her of decades and decades of time before the void…

No, I shouldn't care. I should just accept it and move on. At least atop feeling this… heaviness in my stomach. This sort of emotion isn't allowed for a predator.

And that brings me back to the original problem - all of these emotions I feel because of Helix. Love, most pressingly, but perhaps the fear and sorrow on His behalf are even worse. They're actually making me dread the coming Judgment rather than celebrate it. How is Helix going to fare in that dangerous world? Can I really protect Him? Well, that'll depend a lot on whatever HELIX decides will be my fate…

I sigh again. This is pointless. I close the cupboard and leave the room. I'll just wait until tomorrow - maybe something will come to me in a dream.

---​

“My lord -- please, I beg of you -- stop!”

The scream falls on deaf ears. A tentacle slithers into my opened abdomen, grabs onto my small intestine and tugs on it. I can feel it connect to the back of my abdominal cavity, the mesentery stretched to its limits. All the while the bladed tentacle continues to slash at my organs like a machete at jungle vines. And it hurts, hurts more than anything has hurt before.

The pain stops abruptly. I’m back in my bed, covered in cold sweat.

I wait until my breathing has settled, then sigh.

So much for a good night’s sleep before the meeting.

---​

“Two days until court,” Abe had reminded me this morning. Yeah, yeah, I’d thought. I’d hardly been able to think of anything else.

The rest of the morning had passed roughly the same way as the day prior. Fonz and Him left for school, and I told Him to have a good day. But I did look at Him for a while longer this time, knowing there was a teeny-tiny chance that it’d be the last time I saw Him.

After Abe left, I came down to the basement again, but I found myself simply pacing around again and going through scripture to try and reverse-engineer HIS mind to have a better idea of how HE would react. But, as I already could have guessed, I found nothing new, and my doubts stayed. I eventually gave up and decided to leave the meeting until tomorrow. I did have my lawyer to meet today.

Alone in the house, I spent the hours like I usually do - watching TV, doing crosswords, reading books I’ve read a hundred times before - until Abe arrived. And then my mother.

It took ten minutes of silence for either of us to speak to each other, and I wasn’t the one to give in.

“So, what happened?” was what she had said.

“I got possessed by a ghost and threatened somebody with a knife,” I’d told her.

“I see,” she had said.

Thankfully, the lawyer showed up not long after. My mother sat quietly while he spoke to me and explained what I should do, which turned out to be ‘nothing’. “Let me do the speaking,” he had said, and I had nothing against that. It’s refreshing not to have to scheme everything in advance.

As for what else he told me, he said I had a good chance of walking away with a minimal punishment. I don’t know if I believe him, but it was nice to pretend. He told me about something called the Ducklett Program - unbelievably saccharine, I know - that young first-timers could be sentenced to if they were under some kind of influence, whether it’d be drugs, mental illness or spectral possession. It had community service, group meetings and therapy. While I’m certainly not excited to babysit old people, it’s better than jailtime. Much better.

The subject changed itself to payment somewhere down the line, and that’s when my mother started speaking again. I was relieved to hear her say she’d pay, even if it was already implied by her having shown up. There was surely a part of her that would have liked to leave me in my own mess. She probably believes I belong in prison, anyway. I’d even go as far as to say there’s no probably.

Everything settled, the lawyer left, and my mother didn’t wait a minute after him. I could tell Abe was sad about her having to leave so soon, but it was definitely better this way. Not that he would know. He wasn’t here when we still lived together, when we used to fight. I’d come close to stabbing her many a time back then.

“Why… is it that you guys never talk?” Abe asked. I’m surprised he dared to, but it’s probably because we’ve started talking about a lot of things we’ve kept quiet about before. Well, he has. I still barely talk. It’s him who keeps pushing the subject of mental health. ‘Are you going to go to therapy?’ One thing at a time, Abe. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve got something else on our plate right now.

I take a sip of my glass of water. “Because we hate each other,” I answer him. He hesitates, but ends up shrugging in defeat. And that’s as much as I’m going to be talking about her today.

I can’t wait to sleep.

---​

My breaths are ragged. My guts are somewhere down in the void below. HIS eyes are still staring at me, HIS tentacles picking at organs like murkrow at a carcass. I feel myself die.

---​

“One day until court,” Abe said this morning, as I’d expected him to. Since then, everyone has left like usual, and since then, I’ve yet again been pacing back and forth in the basement.

I just… can’t bring myself to do it. The nightmares keep replaying in my head. More than once, I’ve absentmindedly found myself reaching down to touch my belly to make sure all the organs are still safely inside. Gods. I’m such a coward.

I guess I just have to force myself. I have to do it before tomorrow, and it’s best if I do it while no one else is in the house. While none of them know that the out-of-use locked room isn’t so out-of-use after all, they’re going to be suspicious if they can’t find me anywhere in the house and then I suddenly emerge out of the basement like I’d never left. Or worse, they’ll catch me redhanded exiting the room. I’d have to knock them out and carve a memory eraser in their skin to fix that problem, and then I’d have the new problem of an inexplicable seal on their body.

Okay, let’s just get to it. First order of action, get nude. Arrive with nothing hidden, as the scripture says. I take off my clothes and fold them onto the table. My hairs raise on end from the sudden cold, but I suspect it’s partly due to the current situation, too. It’s hardly a comfortable position I’m in.

Next thing, removing the cloth draped over HIS fossil. As soon as I lay eyes on the stone, the connection will be made, so I have to keep my eyes closed or otherwise averted until I’m ready. I walk over to the altar HIS fossil is propped up on and pinch the ends of the cloth. My hands are shaking. It’s okay, just do it.

I close my eyes and pull. I take some steps backward, familiar enough with the layout of the room not to bump into anything, and then get down on my knees and lay the cloth next to me on the floor. My eyes are still tightly shut. I’m not ready quite yet.

But there’s nothing else to do. I have to open my eyes and face HIM. Face HIS disappointment and wrath. I just have to be… brave.

But I’m not.

I turn my back to the stone and open my eyes for a moment. My torture board stares back, its board at a slight angle and its straps holding nothing. Old blood stains the wood.

I recall the final illusion Joanna gave me, the one where I was the one strapped to one of those, and shudder. Come to think of it, my nightmare wasn’t very different from that, either. I guess it’s just karma that I’d find myself on the receiving end of a mutilation more than once. If I believed in karma, which I don’t. Really, I’d have gone through so much worse if it was real.

Come on, now, stop stalling and just turn around! Face the music already! Gods! I shove my palm into my forehead. What’s wrong with me? What happened to my unwavering loyalty? High Priest Red, devout follower of HELIX, Bringer candidate number one. Where did that person go?

I have to turn around. I owe HIM everything. I shouldn’t avoid HIM. I shouldn’t keep secrets from HIM. I am HIS.

Then why am I shaking so much?

Shaking and breathing ever quicker. Shallow breaths in and out. It’s starting to sting my lungs. I’m hyperventilating? Since when do I hyperventilate?

I force myself to take deeper breaths, resulting in coughing. This is harder than I expected. I bring my hands to my throat, for some kind of support, I guess, and start over. Shaky breath in, shaky breath out. I feel like I’m suffocating, but I have to keep going. I have to… calm down…

My face twists. A sob escapes my throat. Oh, that’s great, now I’m sobbing. I’m such a coward. I’m a little kid, a brat that can’t face the consequences of his actions…

I place my hands on the floor and lean in. I’m careful not to come even close to peeking at the stone upside down. I find myself shrinking into a ball, and soon, my hands are on my head and my forehead is touching the floor.

So shameful. So utterly shameful. Drawing into the fetal position instead of facing HIM. This isn’t suitable behavior for a predator. I need to straighten myself out.

Like prying metal off its hinges, I take my hands off my head and straighten my back. I ball my hands into fists, close my eyes and turn back around. Part of me is screaming to stop - my self-preservation - but I silence it.

Okay. Here it goes.

Through some act of sheer will, I open my eyes.

The stone stares back, silent.

My shoulders relax just a little. No immediate punishment, at least…

“You have a lot on your mind.”

That voice came from behind. I turn my head, though I already know what to expect - that voice was familiar.

Kohath, the first king of the Helixians stares back at me, arms crossed and body wrapped in white cloth. His two-meter-tall, bronze-skinned frame towers over me, and his yellow eyes are piercing. His mouth, encircled by his dark beard, is neutral in its position.

I bow my head, relieved to see a gentler form of HIS. “My lord.”

“Go through it all in your mind,” HE says. “Let me see.”

I nod and focus. I go back to the day I found Joanna floating around as a yamask, move on to my putting on her mask and failed exorcism, all the illusions she put me through, and the evening I woke up in the hospital with her finally gone.

“You were possessed,” HE says. “And now you’re free.”

I nod. “That is right, my lord.”

“And during this experience, you have come to the conclusion that it is impossible for you to sever your attachment to the vessel of my spirit.”

HE is quick to get to the point. “Yes, my lord.”

I hear HIM pace past me. “I am disappointed to hear this.”

HE is disappointed. What does that mean? Does that mean HE will punish me? My body freezes up, readying itself for the worst.

“I will not punish you.”

The tension relaxes. “YOU will not?”

“No,” HE says. “There would be no point.”

I sigh, deeply. It feels like I’m breathing out four lungs’ worth of air.

“Your judgment seems to be sound,” HE says. “It turns out severing that attachment was indeed a task too difficult for you to do. I had my doubts.”

“YOU did?”

“I had to order you to be sure.”

I sigh again. “Then… what is YOUR decision?”

HE stops walking. “You are not my Bringer.”

The weight of HIS words pulls me down to the floor. But I expected this, didn’t I? And I have another option in mind?

HE pauses. “It could be acceptable.”

I raise my head, seeking HIM, and find HIM behind me. “You’ll let me find you another Bringer?”

HE lifts HIS chin. “You have shown yourself to be useful,” HE says. “It would be foolish to abandon you so readily. Your search is permitted.”

My shoulders slump in relief. “I will not fail you, my lord.”

“You had better not,” HE says. “That is why I will give you six months.”

Six months to find a replacement? Can I do it in that time?

“You must,” HE continues, “or you must return me to the cave.”

I bow my head. “Understood.”

HE pauses again. “There is something more.”

Something more? What is -- oh, right.

“Yes,” I say. “Tomorrow, I will be taken to court. They might imprison me, for up to ten years.”

HIS hand scratches HIS beard. “I see.”

I swallow. “What will YOU do if that should be the case?”

“You will return in ten years, and you will return me to the cave.”

Tension worsens. So it’s an automatic fail if I’m sent to prison. “What’ll happen in the ascension, then?”

“If you are worthy - and still alive by then - you will receive fangs and claws like the other predators,” HE says, “but you will not receive immortality.”

I nod, shaking. “And if I find you the Bringer?”

“I will repay you with eternal life.”

Gotcha. So I can still be immortal. Good. Great, actually. I just have to find the Bringer, and my worries will be over.

“But do not think it will be an easy task,” HE continues. “I trained you for years to make you suitable as a host. You would have to find someone promising. Someone ruthless, intelligent, in good shape. Someone worthy.”

I nod. “I will succeed, my lord.”

“See that you do,” HE says. HE uncrosses HIS arms. “That is all. Do you have anything else to bring to my attention?”

I shake my head. “Nothing, my lord.”

“Very well. Until next time, my priest.”

Like sand in the desert wind, HE begins to dissipate. I watch HIS form reduce to powder and disappear into the air. Once the last particles are gone, the tension in the air leaves.

HE has left.

I gasp for air. That went… well. That went about as well as it could have. I’d jump for joy and beat my fist in the air, but I’m far too tired. Instead, I pick up the cloth and bring it back to the altar, draping it over the stone.

Oh, wait. I just realized something.

I have no idea where to begin.

---​

“Day of court,” Abe had said. As if it would’ve been in any way possible for me to forget.

Now, it’s half past seven and we’re sitting in a cab, on our way to the courthouse. In about half an hour, a process will begin to determine whether I’m going to live or die. We wanted to be there well in time.

“Nervous?” Abe asks.

I nod. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“Can’t argue with that,” he admits. “But, hey… it’ll be alright, you know? Even if you get prison time… we’ll come visit you.”

Not my predominant worry, Abe. But you wouldn’t get it. You don’t fear death like I do. You’re just as ignorant as the rest of them.

“And this is Kanto,” he adds. “Not Unova. Always remember that.”

Well, that much is true. I’m about a hundred times less likely to die via prison stabbing in the former than the latter. Which means I’ll at least get to live out my mortal life instead of dying before I get free.

I yawn. It’s a bit embarrassing. Sure, I usually get up at nine, but I go to bed well in time. Waking up two hours earlier shouldn’t have this big of an effect. Abe yawns, too. Funny how that works. Herd behavior.

In a few minutes’ time, the cab arrives in front of the courthouse. We get out of the car, and Abe pays. He joins me standing by my side afterwards.

“Ready?” he asks.

I sigh. “Ready,” I lie.

And so we go inside.

---​
 
Last edited:
Chapter Two - Introductions

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
Hi again! The second chapter ended up having very little about it changed, so that's why I'm able to post it this quickly. The biggest change is the removal of the beginning of the Miriam plot, since I've decided not to include it in the reboot.

No particular content warnings outside references to alcohol and drug use as well as mental illness. Rating is teen.

Enjoy!

---

CHAPTER TWO
Introductions


---​

“I hereby sentence the defendant to take part in and complete the Ducklett Program.”

The moment the gavel hit the table was the moment a golem’s weight was lifted off my shoulders.

I was free. Well, not completely - I still had the Ducklett Program and the included 100 hours of community service it included to work through - but I wasn’t going to jail. And that meant immortality was still within my grasp. I wouldn’t have to die.

I’d had time to get desperate before. Samson’s testimony, while I’m sure that big softie didn’t even want it to, painted me as someone aware of their actions and their consequences at the time of the possession. I had threatened Samson in order to get the ghost to reveal the pages of the book so I could perform an exorcism and get them out. It didn’t explain, however, why I wouldn’t have simply gone to the cops and told them I was possessed, and this was used as an argument that the ghost may have convinced me they couldn’t be trusted in order to keep itself from being exorcised. Gods bless my lawyer.

And Samson wasn't all that bad, either. His account of my behavior during the exorcism - struggling, yelling incoherencies and screaming in pain - must have also helped my case. The ghost had to have been torturing me somehow, framing it as a malicious agent. And then there had been the carvings on my wrist, suspected of being to blame for the exorcism going lethal and the ghost not surviving. I’d looked at the faded scars right then, thanking my luck that the exorcism happened before they could heal. Joanna would likely still be alive then, and she’d be able to tell the court all about my secret basement and the many murders that have taken place there.

Still, as relieving as it was not to get any prison time, there was an addendum that I couldn’t ignore:

”If the defendant is found guilty of another crime or more incriminating evidence surfaces during the duration of the Program, the defendant’s right to participate in the Program shall be revoked.”

And it was clear that I wouldn’t be let off the hook again.

Abe opens the front door and steps through. I follow.

“Hi!” chimes out His voice. Fonz’s ‘hi’ comes next. I’m so glad to hear His voice again. I was worried it’d have to be through a glass wall next time.

I shut the door behind me, kick off my shoes and come to the living room. Fonz gets up, Him in his claws, and hands Him off to me. As soon as His tentacles touch my skin, I relax.

“So… how about today? Are they done with you?” He asks. What He’s talking about is the fact that the law actually wasn’t so straightforward that court would have only taken a day. It ended up taking five. And I was told that this was normal.

I smile as I sit down on the couch with Him in my lap. “Yes,” I say, “this time they are. And I’m gonna stay free. I have to do some community service, yes, but I won’t go to jail.” Unless I fuck up. Hopefully, I won’t.

“What’s community service?”

“Doing some chores for the city,” I answer. “I don’t know exactly what yet, but I’ll find out tomorrow.” Abe had figured out for me the time and place to go.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay.” He pauses. “Can I… ask you what it was that you got in trouble for in the first place?”

I take a deep breath in. I’ve been keeping it vague so far, but… I suppose I can tell Him.

“Well,” I start, “you may have heard that I was possessed.”

He nods. Well, the way He does it is more of a bob.

“Well, while I was possessed, I took somebody hostage with a knife.”

“Did he get hurt?”

“No.” Unfortunately. “Everyone made it out alive. Except the ghost.”

“Oh. What happened to them?”

“They don’t know. Exorcism went wrong somehow.”

He looks pensive. Is He feeling sorry for the ghost? I guess a mon would have more sympathy for another mon.

“Okay,” He says. Then He nuzzles closer to me. My heart skips a beat.

In response, I hug him close. It squishes Him just a little. I’m so glad I can do this again. Pretending not to love Him was killing me.

We stay like that for a while. I concentrate and feel for the beat of his three hearts. It’s faint, but it’s there. If anyone can feel it, it’s me.

A bad thought interrupts me. That thought I’ve been avoiding. That thought about what’ll happen to Him once Judgment comes. I shudder.

He notices. “Are you cold?”

“Lunchtime!” Fonz yells from the kitchen before I can respond. I lift Him up and bring Him to the kitchen, where a bowl of fresh berries stands on the table. I lower Him next to it, and He begins to eat.

It’s time I excuse myself, anyway. I have to let HIM know how court went.

---​

May 15th, 149

I have decided to keep a journal of my plans and efforts regarding the search for a new Bringer. Starting from last Wednesday, I have six months of time given to me by the Lord of Predators. Finding a new candidate shall be my priority number one.

I must now be more careful than ever before when it comes to anything illegal. Earlier today, I was sentenced to undergo something called the Ducklett Program, which is a rehabilitation program for young first-time offenders who committed their crimes under the influence of drugs, psychosis or spectral possession. I am to meet my fellow group members today at 4 pm.

After court, I briefly visited my lord to inform HIM of my verdict. HIS stance on my plans remained the same as the day before, and HE had nothing to add. After the meeting, I began to plan my next order of business. I have settled on searching a high school for possible candidates for Bringerhood. It is not the school I went to, as people would react to me and blow my cover, but the next school over. I will attempt to identify a socially excluded young male that would seek more power and be hungry enough to earn it. It will take time before I will attempt to recruit anyone, however, as it is key I find a candidate that will not speak.

I hope sincerely that I can find what I am looking for.

Red Akai, High Priest


---​

I didn’t find what I was looking for.

At least not this first time. I still have hope that it’ll be different in the future, but today’s visit did not bode well.

When I walked through the halls of the school, it hit me how difficult this was going to be. I did see some loners, but none of them looked like Bringer material. Just scrawny kids that seemed sorry for being there. No one confident.

I could be wrong, though. Could be that one of them is a crouching raikou. Which is why I’ll go back again tomorrow. And the day after that. And then there’s the weekend, but after that, I’ll return on Monday. I’ll keep going until I get what I’m after or I’ve exhausted every possible lead.

The bus stops, and I step out, arriving in front of the South Viridian Community Center. It's a pale yellow building that's seen better days. I walk up to its wooden front door and enter.

There's a receptionist in the hall, and I make my way to her. "Excuse me," I begin, "what room is the Ducklett Program meeting?"

"Room 6B," she answers, pointing to the hallway to the right. "Down that way."

"Thanks," I say to her and head in the pointed direction, footsteps echoing as they hit the white floor. Room 6B is in front of me in no time. The door appears cracked, so I enter.

Inside, there's a circle of chairs, five people seated on them. Three of them are Tohjoan, two girls and one boy, and the other two boys are dark and pale-skinned respectively. There's two empty chairs in the mix, so I pick one and sit, setting down my backpack that I’d brought to fit in better at the school. The others look at me briefly, but return to tapping on their phones or conversing quietly soon enough.

I scan the room for a clock and find one. The minute hand is just a finger's width from its apex. Looks like I'm right on time.

Only some seconds later, a woman with tan skin enters. "Morning," she says, and the kids respond. I don't want to be the odd one out, so I respond, too.

"So, today we have a new member," she says, seating herself on the last remaining chair. She gestures to me. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

I nod. "Sure. I'm Ichiro Akai, but everybody knows me as Red. I'm here because I threatened someone with a knife while possessed."

One of the girls, the lanky one with a blue highlight in her hair, peeks up from her staring at her own feet. She still doesn't meet my gaze, though. Meanwhile, the other girl, the curvy one with red hair and glasses, taps furiously at her phone. Weird reactions.

"Alright," the group counselor says. "Well, I'm Malaya. How about we all introduce ourselves to Red?" She turns to the first person to our left, that being the dark-skinned boy.

He raises a hand in a quick greeting. "I'm Jamal. I'm here because I got high and thought it'd be funny to rob a store."

He turns to his left, where the red-haired girl sits. She stops her tapping and looks up at me. "I'm Mei," she said. "I got drunk and tried to hurt my boyfriend." She turns to her left, where the pale boy sits.

"I'm Kristoff," says the pale boy. "I beat someone up while drunk." He turns to the Tohjoan boy, who looks like he’s about to fall asleep any moment.

"I'm Kaito," the Tohjoan said, slowly and words slurred. "I broke into someone's house during a psychotic episode. I swear it seemed like the right thing to do at the time." He turns to the lanky girl, who gazes down at her shoes.

"I-I'm Suki," she said quietly. "I'm here because I… I stabbed my brother. Under possession."

So she had also been possessed, huh. Was that why she reacted the way she did?

The red-haired girl, Mei, suddenly raises a hand. "Can I ask you something?" she asks me.

"Sure?"

"Are you the same Ichiro Akai that had the Twitch?"

Oh.

She must have found that out on her phone.

I sigh. "Yes."

"What was that like? Or, I mean, you don't have to say if you don't want to…"

"It's fine," I say, though I don't know if it is. "It was hell. The day the Voices finally left me was the happiest day of my life."

The lanky girl, Suki, cautiously raises a hand. "Um, what's the Twitch?"

"It's this phenomenon where --" Mei starts, but looks at me. "I'm sorry, do you wanna explain it?"

I suppress a sigh. Might as well. "Sure. It's a phenomenon where thousands of destructive spirits take over a person and manipulate the surrounding people so that they don't notice anything's off. For some reason, they seem to like guiding their victim on a trainer's journey and leave once they win the circuit."

Suki fidgets with her hands. "That… sounds awful," she says.

"It was."

"Alright, let's not press Red too hard on his experience," Malaya chimes in. "Instead, why don't we get to how we've been? Jamal, you can start."

"Okay!" Jamal claps his hands together. "So, I have good news for y'all. I got my 60 day chip yesterday."

The other kids congratulate him and applaud. I clap, too, not really knowing why.

He goes on to talk more about his life, and I find myself tuning out. Every time, though, I force myself to start listening again. I'm supposed to play nice and get along, and paying attention to others is considerate.

But, Gods, this is boring. It’s like reality TV without the manufactured drama, and reality TV with manufactured drama is already unwatchably dull. I just don’t care about any of these people. The only thing remotely interesting would be to hear about their crimes some more, but they avoid talking about it because it’s traumatic or something.

“I keep thinking we can still work through this,” says Mei, to whom the subject shifted while I was spacing out, “but every time something like this happens, I don’t know if it’s actually possible.” She looks up. “What do you guys think?”

Jamal rubs his chin. “Maybe he just needs time,” he says. “The more you spend time together and the more you have those positive moments, the less his brain is gonna be on alarm about you, and the more he can begin to trust you again.”

“Maybe,” Mei mutters. “But what if I’m just wasting time trying to mend something that’s never going to be fixed?”

“That’s a difficult question,” Malaya says. “Unfortunately, that’s a choice that’s ultimately going to be down to your own judgment.”

“I just…” Mei sighs. “I’d already planned my future with him. Marriage, house, kids. And now I don’t know if I’ll ever get those.”

“You’re sure to get those,” Jamal comforts. “You’re a wonderful girl. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

Mei smiles. “Thanks.”

I scan through the other members of the group. Everyone seems to be listening intently, though Suki still isn’t looking into Mei’s eyes. She seems a bit upset about something, grabbing her palm and rubbing it.

“Well, that’s enough about me,” Mei said. She suddenly locks eyes with me. “How about you, new guy? Do you have something on your mind?”

And just like that, everyone’s looking at me. Even Suki.

I strongly feel like I’m not supposed to say ‘no’. So what should I talk about? Maybe I should talk about something actual on my mind. Gain these people’s trust to an extent. After all, the more I feel like part of this group, the better I would be doing in the program.

“Well,” I say, clearing my throat, “I just got done with court yesterday, and I guess I’m still shaken up about it. I was looking at a possible ten years in jail, but fortunately the judge went easy on me and sentenced me to this program instead.”

“I think we can all relate to that,” said Kaito, and the others nodded.

I cross my arms. “I just hope I can get through this program fine,” I say. “I really don’t wanna end up failing and have to go to jail.”

“Well, if you find yourself having any trouble, come to me and we’ll work it out,” says Malaya. “This program wants people to succeed. We’re on your side.”

I really doubt you’d be taking my side if I was caught committing a murder. “Thanks.”

After a small spell of silence, Kristoff raises his hand. “Could I talk about something now?”

“The floor’s all yours,” Malaya says.

“Alright, so, I finally managed to contact that guy I beat up, and we had an interesting conversation…”

The spotlight off me, I can let my attention slip again.

Time passes, every member contributing something to the conversation with the exception of Suki. I’m not sure I would have noticed if it wasn’t for her divergent behavior, continuing to fidget with her hands and being unable to form eye contact with anyone. I wonder briefly what she’s hiding until I remember I don’t care.

Eventually, after all too long, Malaya speaks up with the lovely words I was awaiting.

“Alright, that’s about it for our time this week,” she says. “It’s time to get to work. We’ll be doing trash duty today.”

Trash duty. Not a social job. Good. I’ve had plenty of socializing for the day.

Everyone gets off their chairs, and so do I. We exit the room together and make our way outside. Two cars are waiting, a white and a blue one, and I’m gestured to enter the blue one. On the driver’s seat sits --

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Hey, everyone!” Samson says once Kaito, Suki and I have seated ourselves in the backseat. “I’m a new volunteer around here, Mark Samson. Call me Samson! I’m more used to it than Mark.”

“Hi, Samson,” Kaito says, and Suki shyly repeats after him. I force myself to say it, too, but only because I know I have to do well here.

“Alright, let’s get you kids to your destination.”

He starts the car and we leave the parking lot. I cross my arms. Kaito leans his head against the window to rest. Suki is still fidgeting with her hands. I could swear she shrank when I looked at her.

The ride passes in awkward silence until we arrive at a field of gravel going by a road. We park and exit the cars. I leave my backpack by the white one, hoping to catch a ride back to the community center on that one instead of Samson’s car. The adult from that car, a middle-aged woman, passes around garbage bags and those remote grabber things. Huh. Beats picking things up with gloves.

“Alright, you know the drill,” the woman says. “Split in two, each one takes a side.”

We split, though not into the same groups we were in the car. It went Jamal, Mei and Kaito and Kristoff, Suki and I. I take note of this. It must be indicative of relationships in the group. It makes sense, too - Jamal, Mei and Kaito were the more social ones. Kristoff feels neutral and Suki, obviously, is shy. And I’m new.

As we spread out to cover ground, I see Samson walking towards me. Oh boy.

“Hi, Red,” he greets, as if we were friends. I guess I have to act like one, too. “How’s it going?”

“Glad I’m not in jail,” I reply, beginning to pick up trash.

“Have you been sleeping well?”

What are you, my doctor? “Yeah, well enough.” Color that my first lie.

“Have you remembered anything new?”

“No.”

“Do you think it’ll come to you in time?”

“I don’t think so.” I stand up and turn to him. “Are you getting at something?”

He recoils ever so slightly. “No, just making conversation,” he said, then grabbed his fingers. “I want things to be good between us.”

Why? Is he so childish that he can’t stand the idea of not being friends with everyone?

“Things are good between us,” I say. “As good as they need to be.”

“Are you sure?” he says, fidgeting. “I know I put you in a tough spot with my testimony. But I was just telling the truth.”

“I wouldn’t ask anything else of you,” I say, turning back to picking up trash. Man, these flattened cigarette butts are tricky to grab. “Besides, you practically said I was being tortured towards the end of the possession. No doubt that helped me.”

“I did try to make it clear you were in pain,” he said and paused. “Maybe it is better you don’t remember. It didn’t seem in any way good.”

“Yeah, well, either way,” I say, looking at him, “we’re good. You can stop worrying.”

He looks like he doesn’t quite believe me. I don’t know how much of that is my attitude and how much of it is his insecurity.

Eventually, though, he takes his hands behind his back. “Well, that’s good to hear,” he sighs, smiling.

Okay, good. Now he’ll leave.

“So, how are your folks? Are they taking this well?”

Son of a bitch. He doesn’t know how to take a hint.

“Yes,” I say, no plans to elaborate.

“What are your folks like, anyway? Mother and father?”

I just wanna tell him to fuck off, but I need to act nice. If I don’t, who knows what he’ll say to the people in charge. That he’s worried about me. And then they’ll pay extra attention to me, and I’ll have to act even nicer to compensate. I guess I have no choice but to surrender and answer his questions nicely.

“Mother and stepfather,” I say. Though neither are really any parents to me.

“Oh, got any siblings?”

“Stepbrother.”

“Any mon companions?”

Of course he had to ask. Of course he had to ask the question that leads to me having to talk about Him. “A nidoking and an omanyte.”

“An omanyte? That’s rare.” He takes the bait like a largemouth magikarp.

“We restored Him from a fossil. Every few months, the scientists come to check up on Him.”

“It’s nice of you to take care of Him.”

It’s entirely motivated by selfish desires, just like everything I do. “If you say so.”

“How about the nidoking? How did you two meet?”

“He’s from the Safari Zone,” I start talking before I realize I have to lie again. I can’t let this guy know I had the Twitch or I’ll never hear the end of his pity. “Another science thing. Volunteered.”

“Are you into science?”

“Somewhat,” I say. Biology has always interested me, and figuring out how things worked led me to take an interest in chemistry and physics as well, even if I never was into the actual calculations and formulae.

“Me, I have a houndoom son,” he says. Son? “He came from a pack back in Castelia, but ran into disagreements with his family. Through a series of events, we ended up adopting him.”

Houndoom. The very symbol of proud predator, and he’s the pet of the biggest mareep. How humiliating. I’d hate to be him. “I see.”

“We have a daughter, too, but a human one,” he says. “Mary. She’s six.”

If he tries to pull out some photos and show them to me, I’m going to scream. “Congratulations.” Do people say congratulations to children that old?

“Yeah, she’s a blessing,” he says. “And so is my wife, Laura. Do you have any significant other?”

I’m celibate. What the hell do you think?

Or, wait. Celibacy is only a requirement for the Bringer. If I’m no longer the Bringer, that means I have the right to date around.

But I don’t want to. Everyone I’d meet would just be another mareep or a predator forced to wear the skin of one. No one I could be in an honest relationship with. Maybe I could have sex, but I haven’t found myself really needing it. I get my satisfaction from hunting and killing.

Then again, I can’t go around doing either of those anymore with all these eyes on me…

Samson chuckles. “Tough question?”

“No, just got lost in thought,” I shoot him down. “I’ve got no one.”

“Aw. Well, you’ll find someone in due time.” He pauses. “If you want one. You don’t have to want one.”

I’m really glad you’re supportive of asexuals. I needed to know that.

He pockets his hands. “It doesn’t even have to be just one…”

As if I would be that lucky. “I get it. Thanks.”

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair now.” He waves a hand and walks off. “Happy trash-picking!”

“Yeah, you have a good one, too.”

He finally leaves. Thank the Gods. I was about to puke from all that sweetness. I shake my head and focus again on the trash.

---​

“Alright, everyone, time to go home!”

Already? Well, I guess it has felt like roughly two hours. I just didn’t expect to not be bored by trash picking. It’s kind of rewarding, actually.

I bring my bag and grabber over and leave both to the woman in charge. I pick up my backpack and wait until I’m allowed to enter the white car. Good. No one forced me to go with Samson instead.

The ride back passes peacefully. Mei and Jamal chat about something that I don’t care about, while Kristoff already left on his own before we got in the car. He must have known how to get back by bus. No doubt there’s an app for that.

App. Phone. Maybe I should try to get a phone now that I have places to be and such. Of course not a smartphone - I’m still not over that - but they do still sell those older models somewhere. At least I think they do. You keep seeing them on TV as burner phones, and even if TV isn’t always realistic, the producers still had to have gotten the prop from somewhere. In any case, I should probably talk to Abe about this. He ought to know more than me.

Arriving at the community center, I thank the woman for the ride and say goodbye to the others. I walk over to the bus stop to wait for bus 10 to swing by, and it’s not long before it does. I get on and find myself a seat. As the bus nudges into motion and the streets of Pallet begin to scroll by, I replay the day's events in my mind.

Eh. I suppose it could have been worse.

---​
 
Chapter Three - Friend

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
I'm on a roll! Here's Chapter Three, another chapter with little changed. Still bettered, though.

Content warnings include talk of mental illness, such as depression, but nothing else. Rating is teen.

---

CHAPTER THREE
Friend


---​

May 17th, 149

Since my last journal entry, I have visited the school twice to scout for possible Bringer candidates. So far, results have been inconclusive. I have identified multiple loners, but none have exhibited confidence in themselves, which speaks to ill suitability. I have attempted to broaden my search by going outside, but all I have found is a group of smoking kids. Their disregard for rules would be promising if it wasn’t counteracted by the idiotic, self-destructive habit. And I can’t claim that I enjoy spending time in the smoke, either.

I will walk the halls for one more day to be sure. After that, I will return on Monday and attempt to make conversation with the identified loners in order to gauge any hidden potential. I will report back with results as I return.

Red Akai, High Priest


---​

“Morning,” I greet everyone as I emerge from the basement.

“Morning,” everyone greets back. I can make out His high-pitched, chipper voice, and I smile.

“Oh, Red, by the way,” He starts, and Fonz carries Him closer to me. “Be on the lookout for a pink-haired girl.”

I freeze. Does He mean… “Why?”

“It was on the news,” He says, tentacle gesturing at the TV. “A twelve-year-old girl has gone missing. She had pink hair. The police are searching for her. You should let them know if you see anyone like that.”

“Her name is Michi Koizumi,” Fonz adds, and my suspicions are confirmed.

I force myself to blink to appear normal. “Gotcha. I will.”

“Okay, that’s all,” He says, and Fonz carries Him to the door. “See ya.”

“See ya,” I respond. Fonz picks up His backpack and They both exit the door.

So it made the news. I should have expected this. Kids going missing is a big deal, even when it is an orphan. Now everyone’s going to have their eyes peeled for Michi.

But they won’t find her. The only trace left of her is the lock of hair in the jar in my basement, and no one knows of that but me.

I sigh. There's that feeling again, that distortion of my organs. Almost comically fitting considering the dreams and illusions I've experienced with Michi in them. It's like I've eaten her all over again, and she's trying to cause me pain from within.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Abe asks from the kitchen, cutting through my rumination.

“Nothing,” I answer. And that’s how it should be.

---​

So, therapy.

It’s 3 PM on a Friday and it’s time for my first appointment. I’m back at the dreaded mental health clinic, home of spiders and bad memories, but luckily I have a lot less to be nervous about this time.

Since I already had my court and got out of it fine, there's no longer pressure to act normal. Of course, I still have to act the regular amount of normal, that being hiding my whole murder-happy side, but I can freely own up to being antisocial. And since this therapy is a required part of my program anyway, I don’t have to worry about anyone forcing me to keep going on account of any problems that might come up. I can talk more about that… depression thing.

I remember a moment in my life when I was very much depressed, even suicidal, but blew off seeking help because HE had reached out to me instead. HE had told me that mareep have nothing to offer, and HE was right back then - no mareep was going to bring Him back, only HE could do that - but now, I feel like I could at least hear them out. Maybe they have some psychological tricks up their sleeves that could help me feel better while I search for the Bringer. Good morale is good for performance, after all.

And maybe they could help out with my anger issues, too. That’s something people go to therapy for, and I don’t have reason to believe that my problems with controlling rage are somehow fundamentally different to some mareep’s problems with controlling rage. Their advice has a good chance of working on me.

I ask the receptionist where I should wait for my appointment with Sonya Belova and I get directions to the right hallway. It’s on the first floor this time, not far from the door. After getting lost the last time I was here, I’m glad it’s in an easy place.

I wait my time, and the therapist emerges from her room, a pale woman in her forties with glasses and hair dyed orange. I wonder briefly if I would have preferred to do this with a man, but it’s kind of pointless when I don’t get a choice. Besides, I feel like women are just generally better at this sort of thing. Nature or nurture, I can’t say. I don’t have the intimate knowledge of the human species HE does.

I walk in, we sit on the armchairs, she asks me how I’m doing, I’m reminded of my appointments with Dr Marsh. Only this time, I’m a lot more comfortable. I tell her that I feel alright, and she asks me if I’ve been sleeping well. It seems like a go-to question for mental health professionals. I tell her ‘yes’, which is true, as I’ve had no nightmares since coming clean to HIM.

She asks me if she’s understood right that I’m in the Ducklett Program, and I tell her she’s correct. She asks me what resulted in me ending up there, and I give her the summary of everything that’s happened - possessed by a ghost, threatened someone with a knife, can’t personally remember any of it. She nods and writes down some notes in her notebook.

“Your brother told me on the phone that you also suffered from the Twitch,” she says, and immediately, I sigh. I guess there’s no avoiding that topic.

“I did, but I don’t think that’s relevant anymore. I’ve had a lot of time to get over it, and I am.” I pause. “Well. I still can’t use computers or phones, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

She raises a brow. “Can’t use computers or phones? That must be difficult in the modern world.”

“Well, I manage. I don’t go to school or have a job, so I haven’t needed either.”

She writes down some more. “No school or job?”

I sigh again. We’re getting into the meat of it. “No. I dropped out of high school because I got into trouble with the other kids. And I don’t have the qualifications for any job.”

“I see,” she says, forgoing telling me that there are jobs I could still do, which I know. “Do you stay at home, then?”

“Yes. It’s… pretty boring.”

“Would you like to be at school or at a job?”

I shrug. “I liked the learning part of school just fine, but the other kids… they wouldn’t lay off me. And a job… I don’t know. I don’t know what kind of job I’d actually want.”

“What could you see yourself doing?”

“Uhh…” I try to think about it. The daydreams I’ve sometimes had of being a surgeon come to mind. But I’d have to finish high school for that, and I know I can’t hack it. And even if I did, there’d still be university. I don’t even know how bad that would be.

Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I have only six months left of regular life left. My only concern is finding a successor.

“I can’t really think of anything,” I tell her.

“Any hobbies that you could turn into a job?”

Murder? I guess they do have that, in the form of the army. But I like being alive too much.

“Not really.”

“Maybe you could try out some things and see how you like them.”

Try out what? Being a janitor? A fast-food worker? Everyone’s favorite jobs. In no way demeaning. “I don’t think there’s anything I would like within the jobs that I could actually get.”

“I see. Then how about school?”

“Well, like I said, I can’t deal with the other kids.”

“Have you considered independent learning?”

Huh? “What?”

“You can learn independently and take the finals once you’re ready.”

“You can do that?”

“I’ve had a patient do it before.”

I think about it briefly… but no, it doesn’t matter. This world isn’t going to last.

“I’ll look into it,” I say to satisfy her for now.

“That’s good,” she says. “Now, how about your mood? Have you been down?”

Here we go. “Well, a psychiatrist suggested that I was depressed. And I guess I kind of agree. I don’t enjoy my life.”

“Do you find little interest or enjoyment in things?”

“I guess so. Not that I’m doing much of anything.”

“Is that because you’re unmotivated?”

“...Sometimes. Mostly it’s just there not being anything to do. Or the things I do I’ve done a million times before.”

“Did you use to enjoy those things more?”

“I think so, maybe. Doing them after school felt rewarding.”

She writes some more. “How about other people? Do you have friends?”

“I have the mon companions I met during the Twitch.”

“Do you like to do things with Them?”

I think about it. “Kind of. I tend to watch from the sidelines. I like… seeing one of Them happy,” I say, a smile creeping on my lips.

“What makes you watch from the sidelines?”

I shrug. “They usually do things I’m not that interested in.”

“Do you have any other friends? Any friends you’d like to hang out with?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never really had friends.” I blink. “Right, I should probably tell you now that I’m also antisocial. Apparently.”

“Antisocial how?”

“Well, I’m not a people person. And I don’t feel bad about hurting people.”

“I see,” she says, writing down some more. “Do you not enjoy spending time with other people?”

“Outside my mon companion, no,” I say. “I haven’t met anyone I’d really get along with. They just feel… too different.”

“Have you tried to get to know them better?”

“I never really get to that point,” I say. “I just… don’t interact.”

“Maybe you could find something in common with somebody if you met more people,” she suggests.

Nah. I’m a houndoom and they’re mareep. They have their superficial interests and gossip and I have the Helixian Kingdom.

“The Ducklett Program has group meetings, doesn’t it?” she starts. “Maybe you could try to get to know your groupmates a little better.”

“I don’t know…” I already had to listen to them blab about their lives and nothing could have been more boring. We’re just not the same species. “If I’m antisocial, would I even get anything out of social interaction?”

“Well, as far as I’m aware, antisocial people still get lonely,” she says. “And an interesting conversation is enriching.”

Interesting conversation. Yeah, what’s your favorite method of torture?

“I guess I’ll try it,” I say. I don’t actually have to try. I’ll just tell her next time that I did and it didn’t work out.

She writes something down. Then, she speaks up again. “Have you been told about common post-possession symptoms?”

“Post-possession symptoms? No.”

“Well, research shows that possession often has an effect on the mental wellness of the victim, even aside from what a similar traumatic experience would cause. These symptoms can include depression, anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, even hallucinations.”

The last word makes my heart sink. You mean I might not even be free of seeing things that aren’t there?

“Would you say you’ve had any?”

“Well… I guess I’ve been feeling on edge lately and having stressful dreams, but I thought that was just everything with the court and the possibility of jailtime,” I answer. “Are they… permanent?”

She shakes her head. “No, they shouldn’t be permanent, especially with therapy.”

“I see… that’s good.”

“I can give you a pamphlet on post-possession effects. Would you like one?”

“Yeah. Sounds like a good idea.”

She gets up and moves to the desk where she opens a drawer and pulls out a cream-colored pamphlet. I take it and slip it into my backpack.

“So, you mentioned being on edge,” she said. “Would you like some advice on how to handle that?”

“Sure, why not.”

She begins to tell me about breathing exercises and the like, and I even allow her to guide me through one. I can’t really say if I’m more relaxed afterwards. Maybe I didn’t do it right, I don’t know.

After divulging some more information on the subject, our time comes to a close and I thank her before leaving. Well, that was my first therapy appointment. Can’t say I didn’t learn anything, though I wish I would have learned a bit more than just about post-possession symptoms and some slow breathing. Maybe next time. I’ll bring up my anger issues and have her help me with those.

I exited the building, thankfully not getting lost this time, and took the bus to the community center. I made my way to the community center and room 6B. There, I was told that I would be working at the pokémon shelter with Suki, at which the girl shrank. I think I intimidate her. As much as I usually like that, I still need to get along with everyone, which means I need to talk to her and ease her nerves a little. Shouldn’t be too hard, right? I did practice smalltalk for hours earlier this month and I did fine despite the ghost in my brain at the time.

I guess this also means I’ll be inadvertently fulfilling my promise to the therapist. I’ll be getting to know her better, whether I like it or not.

We’re dropped off at the shelter by some new woman and greeted by someone in charge, another woman, a pretty short one. She introduces herself as Chiho and shakes hands with me. Her grip is robust.

She takes us into the building. It smells strongly like all sorts of animals and a little bit of piss. Despite that, I’m kind of excited. I’ve always been a fan of feral pokémon. Unlike the civilized kind, they don’t mind it when you stare at them, admire them for the masterpieces of nature they are. As long as you don’t stare them in the eyes, anyway.

“So, you think you can show him what to do on your own?” Chiho asks.

“Yes,” Suki answers, though I sense some uncertainty.

“Great! I’ll be in the front if you need me,” Chiho says and walks back the way we came.

We’re left among the cages of mon. There’s two poochyena, two meowth, a vulpix, a glameow, two sentret, three zubat, a nidoran, an eevee - I frown at it, bad memories - and a lickitung alongside a bunch of other mon you’d see in an urban environment, all collared. Some of them have bandages around one limb or another and a cone around their head while others just seem lethargic. It’s a safe guess to say every one of them has something wrong with them, which is the reason why they’re here instead of the great outdoors. I guess once a mon sets foot in the city, humans view them as their responsibility. It’s not a completely stupid viewpoint. We did encroach upon their habitat and get rid of whatever forest used to stand in the town’s place.

“So,” I start, turning to Suki. Her eyes avoid mine. “What are we here to do?”

“Right now, it’s time for walks,” she says. “I’ll go get the leashes.”

“Alright.”

I cross my arms and wait as the girl walks over to a closet and opens it. She picks out a bunch of leashes of varying colors and slings them around her neck. A stray thought comes of using those to choke her, but I shoo it away.

She begins to visit cages while I follow her and read the names and sexes of the mon from the papers put up beside the doors. First are the two hyperactive poochyena from before, Ritz and Ratz, who don’t seem like their injuries are slowing them down one bit. They both yip and jump against Suki’s legs as if she was their mother coming to nurse them while she fastens the leashes and gives both a scratch behind their ears with a smile. Next up is the vulpix, Cinder, who seems offended at the idea of being put on a leash but accepts her fate without further protest. Then there’s a growlithe, Bobby, who gently wags his tail as he steps up to Suki, and then there’s… the lickitung, Cupcake.

“You’re gonna walk a lickitung on a leash?” I ask, and Suki glances at me.

“She has a history of running into traffic,” she explains. “And she craps way too much to have a litter box.”

“I see.” I pause. “How many mon do you plan to walk at the same time?”

“Six,” she says, “so just one more. Let me get him.”

She brings me to another cage and hands me the leashes while she goes in. Inside lies a mightyena. It looks at me, ears perking, and growls.

“Oh… yeah, he can get this way,” Suki says. “His name is Sirius. He doesn’t like strangers. But don’t worry - he doesn’t bite. He’s just… grumpy.”

The mightyena huffs, as if to illustrate that point. I respect him. He’s a proud predator, here on his own terms. No one’s pet. If he could talk, I’m sure we’d get along swell.

He doesn’t take his eyes off me while Suki opens the door and slips in to attach the leash. Without prompting, he gets up and follows Suki out. She takes the leashes back and shuffles past me to get to the door. She exits, all six mon in tow, and I follow her out. The air is refreshing after the bath in all sorts of animalistic odors.

She hands me two of the leashes. “You can have Cinder and Bobby,” she says. “They’re the easiest.”

Come on, you don’t need to baby me. Still, I accept the leashes and the minimal responsibility.

There’s a path running into a forested area, and we head for it. Ritz and Ratz zoom around, getting their leashes tangled up, while Sirius still keeps glancing at me. Bobby and Cinder walk along at a leisurely pace while Cupcake waddles with intermittent bursts of speed. I watch my leg, not wanting to brush against her tongue and get spit all over my jeans. A lone jogger passes us by and disappears behind us.

I stifle a sigh. I guess now is the best time to start talking.

“So, how are things with you?” I ask.

Suki looks at me, but then turns her head back to the mon. “They’re alright,” she says. “How are things with you?”

“Fine also.”

Silence returns. Oh, come on.

“Are things going alright at school?” I ask.

“They are,” she says. “There’s work to do, but I’m managing it. How about you?”

“I… don’t go to school. I had to drop out.”

“Oh.”

Silence again. Ngh. I guess I have to put in all the effort into conversation around here.

“So how long have you been in this program?”

“Just three weeks,” she says. “I’m the newest one after you.”

“How many weeks do you have to go?”

“Five. But I might come back for more.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re free to keep coming for as long as we like,” she explains. “And I kinda like doing volunteerwork. Especially here at the shelter.”

Well, I guess I don’t mind the work myself, but the need to act nice is bugging me. I couldn’t do it indefinitely. “I see.”

“How many weeks do you have?”

“Ten.”

“I hope you find them nice.”

The upside to her being afraid of eye contact is that I can roll my eyes without repercussions.

“So… you used to be a trainer,” she starts.

“During the Twitch, yeah.”

“I have to admit… after the meeting, I looked you up, too,” she says. “Did you really have a zapdos on your team?”

“Yeah.” I suppose this would be anyone’s first question.

“How did you… meet them?”

I clench my teeth. I’m really not a fan of having to scour through painful memories. “I’m sorry, but I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“Oh.” She shrinks. “I-I’m sorry.”

I sigh. “It’s alright. I just don’t like thinking about those times.”

”Yeah, yeah, I bet,” she says. “Not that I would know. I can’t even imagine…” She trails off.

Oh, please. I don’t want you to make me talk about my journey, but it’s not like I want you to pity me, either.

“Have you ever done training yourself?” I ask her to keep the conversation going.

“No… I don’t really wanna order mon around,” she says. “And I don’t really know anything about battles. I’d rather just make friends with mon instead.”

Oh, you absolute wimp. If someone ever yelled at you, I bet you’d just shatter into a million pieces.

“What is it that you do, then?” I ask.

“Well, a lot of my time goes into pre-med homework,” she says, “but the rest of the time, I like watching Natuflix and MewTube and…” She quiets down.

“Oh, you’re going into medicine?” I bet she wants to become a nurse. So she can help people and make their booboos all better. Fuck’s sake.

“Yeah. I’m going into forensic pathology.”

Come again?

“Like, ‘cutting open corpses’ forensic pathology?” I ask.

“Basically.”

“Isn’t it pretty… bloody? You don’t mind that?”

“Are you kidding? I love that stuff!” she shouts, then flinches at her own volume and shrinks again. “I mean, I find it interesting.”

…Huh. What do you know. The mareep has fangs.

She looks away. “Sorry if that’s… gross.”

“No, no… I think that’s cool.”

She looks back. “Really?”

“Yeah. I find that stuff interesting, too.” If she can tell me, I can tell her. “I can’t go to med school, but I’ve read about it a lot.”

"Cool," she says. "So, what's your favorite organ?"

"Oh, the heart, no contest."

She chuckles. "A romantic, are you?"

"No, I like the way it pulsates. It's beautiful." Okay, be careful, now. "I've seen videos."

"I've seen a gif, too," she says. The fuck is a gif? "It was a disembodied heart waiting to be transplanted. Looked nice."

"I bet."

"Have you noticed how there used to be a lot of surgery videos on MewTube, but now you can't find them anymore? They must have removed them because of the content." She huffs. "Bullshit. They were educational."

"People are too squeamish."

"Can't they just not watch it if they don't want to see it? Should be obvious from the title and thumbnail what content there is."

"Yeah…" I hope she doesn't whip out her phone and try to show me something. I don't wanna have to disclose my phobia of screens - she might realize that would mean I couldn't have seen videos of organs online.

"But, well, bad decisions are par for the course for MewTube," she says. "But as long as it retains its monopoly, there's no pressure for it to improve."

"Yeah." Okay, you've lost me.

"But back to the topic. Are you interested in just human anatomy, or pokémon as well?"

"It's all fascinating," I say. "And I had to be a little interested to take care of my omanyte friend."

"Omanyte? Cool! Aren't they rare?"

"Pretty rare. This one was restored from a fossil. I cooperated with the scientists. They even managed to develop a vaccine for an omanyte-only disease that sadly took my previous friend." No need to tell her it was the same person.

"Oh… I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. It was a while ago."

Suddenly, Ritz and Ratz explode into barks. Suki grips the leashes tighter, and we both discover what has caused the ruckus. A nidoqueen is coming our way. She frowns as she passes us while Suki tries to calm down the poochyena.

"Does this happen every time a mon passes them?" I ask.

"Pretty much. But, hey, as long as they're only barking and not doing anything else…" She clears her throat. "So, is there anything interesting you know about omanyte, having taken care of them?"

Another great subject of conversation. Kudos. "Oh, plenty," I say. "First of all, He loves shrimp. Can't get enough of them. Secondly, you have to be careful He doesn't eat mouthfuls too big because the brain of an omanyte wraps around its esophagus and a bite too big can cause brain damage when swallowed. Thankfully, they do have instincts telling them to take modest bites, but it doesn't make all the worry go away…"

---​

"...and I just had to give up and throw those pants away. Nothing gets rid of omanyte ink."

She chuckles, leaning back on the couch. "You know, you sound like a good caretaker."

I shrug. "I try. The nidoking does most of the heavy lifting, though."

"He sounds good, too. I bet you two are a real power couple."

I flinch. "We're not --"

She laughs. "I'm just kidding!"

"Oh." A smile creeps on my face. "I hadn't expected you to be such a kidder, you know."

"I guess I'm just full of surprises," she says. "No, but for real, it just takes me a little while to open up. Looks like this time it was…" She looks at the clock, and her eyes widen. "Two hours," she says. "Our shift is over."

It is? But we didn't even do that much. After the walk, we fed the mon and cleaned their litter boxes. Since then, we've been watching the feline mon we took out to the play room to run and climb and scratch so that they don't hurt themselves or each other. Have we really been talking for that long?

"We should get these guys back in their cages," Suki says, and I nod. She gets up and goes to pick up the white meowth while I follow suit and pick up the glameow. As we get to the cages, we're faced with Chiho, who smiles at us.

"So, how was your first shift, new guy?" she asks.

"It went well," I answer, opening the glameow's cage. "I enjoyed my time."

"That's good to hear," Chiho says as I place down the mon and walk out, shutting the door behind me. "I take it the mon have also behaved themselves with you?"

"Well, Sirius growled, but that's just what he does," Suki says. "He'll get used to him with time."

"Great!" says Chiho. "See you next Friday, then."

"Absolutely," I answer. Chiho leaves with a smile while we return to the play room.

"Listen, it was nice talking to you," Suki says, picking up the cream-colored meowth.

"Yeah, same here," I respond, now left to pick up… the eevee.

I sigh through my nose. Alright, big guy, let's do this.

I walk up to the brown mon and scoop it up into my arms. It doesn't resist, only curiously looks around. Its fur is soft and warm. I find a smile on my face. Smiling at an eevee? I'm going through changes today.

We bring the two mon to the cages and lock them up. Afterwards, it's time to leave.

"Well, see you on Monday," I say.

"See you!" she replies and raises her hand in a wave. I do the same.

I walk through the building and past Chiho at the reception desk, giving her a brief goodbye as well. I exit through the front door and begin to look for a bus stop.

Man, two hours of talking. That's a lot. And I didn't act weirdly or anything. That was surprisingly easy… and giving. She told me a lot of interesting stuff, like what situs inversus or grimmsnarl syndrome is. I… enjoyed talking to her.

That psych was right. I hate to admit it, but she knew that I just needed to give the right person a chance and I could enjoy their company. So, are we… friends now? How does it work? I haven't made new friends in a long, long time.

But hold on a second now. Should I really be friends with her? I should humor her for the sake of my reputation, yes, but should I actually personally like her? She's still a mareep. One of them. It's people like her that hate what I really am and want to lock me away. It's people like her that promote a society of conformity. You saw how shy she was, how preoccupied she was with how I saw her. She wasn't like me. She could never understand me. She and I could never be friends.

I'll use her to entertain myself, but that has to be it. That's what a predator would do. Use the prey. Take what he needs and leave the rest. No attachment, just an exchange of goods. Restrained, businesslike. Cold.

That's right. The only people I should be friends with should be other predators - people that could know what I am and respect me. People that deserve my respect. And because I can't actually find those people, not before Judgment… I'll just have to stay friendless.

And I should remember that. From now on, I'll remind myself who the people I'm with are and make sure I still feel hidden contempt even though I engage in conversation and niceties. I cannot get attached. I already have one attachment I can't get rid of, I don't need to risk developing any more.

I make it to the bus stop, pull out the route map from my pocket and begin to figure out what bus I need to take.

---​

The weekend passed quickly. I spent most of my time planning how to approach my candidates, and there was a lot of work to be done there. It wouldn't be as easy as walking up to them and going 'wanna join my cult?' I'd have to convince them to listen to me, then come to my house, sell them on Helixian ideology, and then, only then, could I reveal the more murderous parts of the package. It would take multiple visits, so I would have to be patient. It would be best to try and get multiple people at the same time in order to be efficient and to make them feel a bit safer about coming around to a stranger's house.

Now, it's Monday morning, and I'm at the school again. I slip indoors and begin walking through the student-lined halls, searching for any of my chosen targets. It's not long before I find one, the scruffy-haired one that likes to wear dark red jeans. But he's with company.

"Nobu tells me you were talking to Makoto on Friday," one of the kids with him says. His posture is not friendly. "Care to explain that?"

"Sh-she dropped her books and I helped her pick them up…"

"Bullshit!" the kid spits. "You were trying to make a move on my girl, weren't you?"

I roll my eyes. High schoolers are still the same.

"No, I…" the target tries, but the other kid talks over him.

"You've got some nerve. I should kick your ass." He raises his fists and takes a step closer.

The target recoils. "Please don't. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

The other kid narrows his eyes in a glare. After a few seconds, he huffs. "It better not," he spits. "Come on, guys. Let's go."

The other kids walk away, leaving the target alone. Here's my cue.

I walk up to him, but he doesn't notice me until I start talking. "You okay?"

He flinches, startled, but answers calmly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Who were those guys?"

"Tsuneo and his lackeys," the target says. "Local tough guy. Dating Makoto, in case you didn't hear." He adjusts his backpack. "Are you new here?"

"Yeah," I say. "I'm Red. And you are?"

"Kenji. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." I turn to face the end of the hallway, where Tsuneo's group is about to disappear. "Have they been giving you a hard time for longer?"

"Me, not so much, but others," he says. "I try to be invisible. It's not that easy for Manny, though. He has something going on, and Tsuneo bullies him on the regular for it."

I nod. "Do you ever think about retaliating?"

"What? Like… bringing a gun or --"

"No, no," I say, raising my hands. "Just kicking his ass, fair and square, like a man."

"With my physique? Yeah, no," he says, looking down at himself. "Besides, I'd just get in trouble for it."

"Not if it's after school," I correct him. "And your physique… that can be changed."

"I guess," he says, eyeing me. "You'd know about that, I bet."

I can't help the smile that appears on my face. Damn right. "I have a little experience, yes."

"Wouldn't it be petty, too, to work out just so you can kick someone's ass?"

"It's not just that," I say. "You'll feel a lot better about yourself in general, being more powerful, healthier and better-looking. I bet the girls would like it, too."

He looks over at a group of girls. I smirk. Appeal to libido always works.

"I don't know," he says. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"I can help with that," I offer. "I've been working out since I was fifteen. I've done it all at home, for free, no gym membership required. Just… get yourself a mattress, you'll be a lot more comfortable that way."

He eyes me suspiciously. "Why are you being this friendly with me?"

I don't let my flinch show. Have I crossed a line? Have I come on too strong? I need to fix this.

"Oh, sorry if I've made you uncomfortable," I say. "I'm just trying to make friends, being new and all."

Kenji pauses, but then he smiles. "Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry. I'm just not used to that."

I'll push on this. "How come? You seem like an alright guy."

"Eh…" He shakes his head. "Just not… the social type, I guess."

So just right for the Bringer. "Well, despite not being the social type, would you like to come over someday? I can get you started on your workout journey. And it's not binding - you can quit at any time. How about --"

"Hey, you!"

I stop and turn around. A bearded adult with glasses approaches.

"You, the one in the hoodie," he says. "You've been wandering the halls for the past couple of days, and no one seems to recognize you. Care to explain that?"

"Oh, he's new," Kenji answers for me.

"Is he?" The man crosses his arms. "There are no new students coming in. He doesn't go here."

Shit.

“So… what, you lied?” Kenji asks, indignance forming on his face.

“Well… not exactly,” I start, rapidly thinking up an excuse. “I’m thinking of transferring here, and I wanted to see what the place was like.” I turn to the teacher, or whoever he is. “Is that a problem?”

He holds for a moment, then sighs. “Well, it is. School policy is that only students of this school are allowed on the premises. You’re going to have to leave.”

Damn it. I look back at Kenji one more time, but he still seems upset that I didn’t tell him the ‘truth’. I sigh as well. “I’ll go. Sorry.”

“Good,” says the teacher as I head for the end of the hallway. I make my way out of the building before I allow myself to stop.

Well, fuck. Now what do I do? I can’t come to this school anymore, and if I try another one, the same thing will undoubtedly happen. My only lead has been destroyed. And time is ticking. Time until my death, unless I manage to turn this around. But how? How am I supposed to find a successor? How am I supposed to pull it off in six months or any amount of time if I’ve run out of options? Oh Gods, maybe I really can’t do this. Maybe I really am going to die. Lose my thoughts, lose my sight and touch and hearing, lose anything I could use to make sense of eternal raw, empty existence, get trapped in a metaphysical hell with no way out --

My breathing has become rapid. Shallow, too. I force myself to take deeper breaths and calm down. Why does that keep happening? I didn’t get this anxious before. Is it… am I having post-possession symptoms? Oh, great. Joanna still manages to be a pain in my ass after her second and final death.

Okay. Think. What should I do? How could I find someone that would be interested in Helixian ideals? Well, the brute force approach would just be to walk around town and try to find people, but how could I tell who’s suitable to be the Bringer and who isn’t? I’d have to stalk them - and while I do have experience in that, I really can’t risk getting caught for it now that I’m on thin ice with the justice system. But… do I have a choice?

…Well, there is something else I could try. Something more extreme. I could start walking the streets at night and try to find criminals redhanded. A criminal is already ready to break social norms and morals in order to be committing their crimes, which makes them more suitable as Bringer candidates. But how would I convince them to come with me? Unless… I don’t, and instead take them by force, just like I did for my victims? But I’ll have to be extremely careful not to get caught. And I’ll carve memory erasers on them to make them forget about me if they don’t want to cooperate.

But why would they want to cooperate, anyway? What do I have for them? Well, I know I have eternal life and unfathomable power, but they won’t believe me. They’ll just think I’m crazy… unless I can prove what I’m saying. And bringing them before HIM would do the trick. HE could appraise them right then and there, too. I wouldn’t have to waste time trying to convince them about HIS might when HE can easily do it for me. And HE could tell me if there’s any risk of them turning on me and going to the cops. Ugh, I wish I didn’t have to bother HIM, but I’m not seeing any other options. And it’s in HIS interest, too, to find a new Bringer. HE should be happy I’m moving things along.

Alright. I guess that settles it. I’m gonna have to start stalking the night. It sounds dangerous, but it can’t be that bad, right? At worst someone’s gonna try to mug me, and if I just don’t carry any money, they’ll have to leave me alone. There’s no reason for anyone to kill me. I’ll be fine, right?

I sigh. I was still so confident in my plan this morning, and now it’s been torn to shreds and replaced with a way worse one.

Well, I guess it’s no use crying over that. I’ll just have to go about the rest of my day normally until night comes. Then I’ll hit the streets. And hopefully, I’ll find someone.

---​

Today’s community service ended up being planting trees in parks. It wasn’t very exciting, but it was something to do, which is a common theme with the activities we’ve done. I briefly spoke with Suki on the car ride to the location, but neither of us had anything new to report.

On my way home, I can only think about the couch and how I want to collapse on it and put on something mind-numbing on TV to get my mind off all my bitterness at what happened at the school today. I'd like to fall asleep in a nap and have pleasant dreams of sunshine and little pidgey chirping and maybe killing somebody.

The moment isn't that far away now, thankfully. I'm on my home street approaching my house…

Wait. Is that a police car?

I walk over to the edge of the yard. Yes, that blue-and-white vehicle is indeed a police car.

What the fuck are they doing here? Have they found out something about me? Or has some other crime happened? Oh Gods, I hope He's okay…

I have to go in, but my feet are sluggish. Part of me tells me to run away and hide, but I know that'd just be delaying the inevitable. And it'd make me look a lot more suspicious and possibly make a not-so-bad situation into a much worse one.

I take a deep breath and enter the house. Two men in navy blue are standing in the living room with Abe and Fonz. They've turned to me, and now they're walking up to me.

"Ichiro Akai?" asks the taller one.

"Yes, that's me," I respond. "What's this about?"

The man puts his hands on his hips. "Is the name 'Michi Koizumi' familiar?"

---​
 
Chapter Four - Accusations

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
Hiiii. This one has the dream sequence from the old one swapped in for another, and more stuff related to Michi tweaked. Otherwise it's pretty much the same as the old one, I think.

I swear I'm gonna slow down with these once I start getting into the stuff that's actually seen major changes.

Content warning for discussion of death, strangulation, violence against a minor, vomit and blood. Rated mature. Enjoy!

---

CHAPTER FOUR
Accusations


---​

"Michi… Koizumi," I repeat, tasting the words. "Isn't that the pink-haired girl who went missing?"

The policeman nods. "Yes. Do you know anything else?"

"Uh, no. Why do you ask?"

The man shifts his weight onto another foot. "According to the man that exorcised you, he saw that girl in the illusion the ghost was giving you. He figured she must have been of importance to you or the ghost."

I clench my jaw. "What do you mean? How would he have seen the illusion?”

"Apparently, during an exorcism, the exorcist can briefly see any illusions the ghost is invoking due to some spiritual linkage," the cop explains. "We double-checked. It's a known phenomenon in the field of exorcisms."

And of course Samson had to blab about it to the law enforcement. He just couldn't leave it alone.

"Well," I start, "I don't know what to tell you. I still don't remember anything substantial about my time under possession, and I definitely don't remember seeing that girl in any illusion."

"Well, are there any places you like to go?" asks the other cop, the shorter one. "Maybe she used to visit one of them."

"Not really," I answer, pocketing my hands. "I stay at home a lot. I also go jogging, but I don't hang out anywhere."

"I see," says the shorter cop and looks at his partner. "I guess that's all for this time. We'll be in contact if we find anything new, in case it might jog your memory."

"Doubt it, but sure."

The men nod. "Thank you for your time. Have a good day," the taller one says as they both head for the door.

"You too," I reply, and the two exit the building.

Only a few seconds later, a voice pipes up from the couch. "You really don't remember anything?"

I look over and see Him leaning onto the armrest, gaze expectant.

"No, I'm sorry," I say, walking over and sitting next to Him. "No recollection."

"Darn," He says. "This has to be something important to the case. If only you remembered… they might find out what happened to her."

I try to think of a way to downplay this discovery, but there's really no way to do that. Her appearing in an illusion tells everyone that either I or the ghost knew her, or that we both did. I'm just lucky there are no other leads. I made sure of that.

Wait. Oh Gods. What if Samson sees Joanna's face on the TV or one of those posters her family was putting up? Will he recognize her from the mask Joanna was carrying? She did briefly appear in the illusion… but she was eaten by the beast right after. Maybe that wasn't enough time for him to see her clearly.

"Do you have any guesses as to who she is?

I snap out of my thoughts and return my attention to Him. "No, my lord. I'm sorry."

He crosses His tentacles. "I just hope she's fine."

But she's not. She's suffering, suffering for eternity. And it's my fault…

No, it doesn't matter. She would have died eventually anyway, remember? Just like everyone else except the Bringer and, hopefully, you.

Just like… oh, fuck. That'll happen to Him, too. Before, I thought of making Him immortal with the divine powers that the Bringer would gain, but now I'm no longer the Bringer, and… HE doesn't really care about Him, so HE won't do it, either.

Well… well, there's nothing I can do. I just have to appreciate Him while He's still here. And just… not think about it after He's gone.

I'd rather not think about it now, either. I'd rather drown those thoughts with something else.

"Let's see what's on TV," I say and grab the remote.

---​

It's a mild, moonlit night. The soft breeze rustles the branches of the pines and spruces which cast their dark silhouettes against the partially cloudy sky. In between the fluffy gray patches, stars twinkle.

It would be a lovely sight to see, but something mars it.

A familiar pink-haired girl stands across the opening, staring at me. Just staring, staring, staring. Won't even blink.

I hesitate, but ultimately decide to walk up to her. Her gaze follows me, and her head slowly lifts to match it.

I let out a tense sigh. "What do you want?"

She doesn't respond, only continuing to stare.

I want to tell her I'm sorry, but something stops me. Right. I can't be sorry. I'm a predator.

Just as I think that, I notice something about the shadow I'm casting over her. It's fuzzy and crowned by horns. It's --

I turn around, but it isn't there. Only the forest and the moon are. I turn back to Michi. The shadow still looks the way it does.

I slowly raise a hand. The shadow raises its own. Its fingers are tipped by claws.

Okay. I get it. I'm the beast. The beast is me. We are one and the same. Even though it was separate the last few times I saw it…

It doesn't matter. Those were dreams. This is a dream, too. This isn't real.

The feelings inside me, though…

"Aren't you going to say anything?" I ask Michi. "Or are you just going to stand there and… do this to me?"

No answer. Nothing. Just that growing unease in my stomach.

This is wrong. This is wrong. I'm not supposed to feel anything. I'm a predator. I'm the beast. Doesn't my shadow agree?

It's wavering. Shifting between that of the beast and that of my human form.

No. No, that can't happen. I need to be the beast. I need to be a monster. I need to be inhuman. I am inhuman. I'll show it.

I grab Michi's neck with my hand. She finally reacts, her eyes widening. I squeeze, and pain behind to distort her face. Good. Good. My hand is changing. Growing black fur, growing sharp talons. It's spreading across my arm. I squeeze harder, and it spreads faster, up to my shoulder and reaching my neck and chest --

A sharp pain claws at me from within, and I feel bile rise up my throat. I cough it out, and it stains Michi's clothes. Red. Bloody. The pain gets worse --

I’m awake.

Shakily breathing in and out, I feel my heartbeat gradually slow down. I sit up, cold air enveloping my body as I let my blanket fall.

What was that?

…A dream.

Just a silly dream.

I flop back onto my bed and sigh. I stare into the darkness of my ceiling until my eyes get tired and I sink back to sleep.

---​

May 21st, 149

I have unfortunate news. Yesterday, as I was trying to recruit one of the Bringer candidates, I was interrupted by a teacher who recognized that I wasn't from that school. I was forced to leave and never return. Theoretically, I could try to find another school, but the same thing would surely happen there, which brings me to my new plan.

I will start walking the streets at night in an attempt to witness a crime and drug and abduct its perpetrator. I must be extremely careful with this in order to avoid being noticed, as I am still on thin ice with the justice system. Once I have abducted the criminal, I will bring him before HIM, and HE will tell me if he is suitable. If he is not, I will knock him out again, carve a memory eraser on him and somehow transport him out of the house and into the woods.

I will, however, not get to this just yet. Yesterday, the police came to my house and asked me what I knew about Michi Koizumi - the orphan girl I had half-accidentally killed some time ago. Apparently, Samson - the priest that had exorcised me - saw part of the illusion Joanna was giving me and spotted Michi there. I will give him a piece of my mind about this, rest assured, but luckily nothing really came out of it as I simply reiterated that I did not remember a thing, and the police left. I don't know yet how long I am going to wait before starting my nightly tours, but I will report it to this journal once I know.

Red Akai, High Priest


---​

Tuesday came and went. Community service was more cleaning and I spent it eavesdropping on Jamal and Kristoff talking about some battling tournament that was apparently going on. I was so bored that sports interested me, so bored that I listened despite my bad experiences with training. They mentioned some species I wasn’t familiar with, araquanid. I looked it up in the dictionary later. Of course it was a spider.

Wednesday morning was about as exciting, but made more longwinded by my impatience. I wanted to see Samson already, and having to hear Mei whining about her boyfriend again made the wait doubly grating. At least Suki also said something this time, and that I was vaguely interested in. Apparently, she’s a writer, and she’s been uninspired for a long time since her incident with the ghost but now managed to write again. She was excited about it. It was kind of contagious. I think I’m going to ask her what she writes on Friday.

They also tried asking me what was up, but nothing was. Nothing I would tell them about, at least. They asked me about school and I, yet again, had to divulge that I do not go to school. It's starting to be embarrassing.

Right now, though, it’s about time we stopped. If only Jamal would shut up about his dad…

He pauses. I see Malaya straighten up. Yes.

“I think that’s our time for today,” she says. “We’ll pick up where we left off next time.”

Jamal nods and grins mareepishly. “Yeah, sorry, my bad. I kinda started blabbing.”

Everybody starts getting up and so do I. We head out of the room and the building and arrive at the cars. Suki, Kristoff and I, once again, climb into Samson's car. I make sure to give him a dirty look as he greets us. He probably already knows what it's about.

We're driven to yet another section of littered road and given our grabbers and bags. We spread out, and I think of calling Samson over, but he comes to me on his own.

"So… you're mad, I take it," he says, grasping his hand.

I shoot him a glare. "Damn right I'm mad," I say. "You told the cops I was connected to that missing girl, and now they're on my ass."

He glances elsewhere. "I know, I know, but I had to. I saw that girl on TV and recognized her from the illusion. This might be a clue that helps them find her!"

"How?" I snap. "You already know I don't remember anything, and the ghost is dead. There's nothing but the fact that she was apparently there. That leads to nothing but more suspicion cast on me, and I really don't need that. I'm trying not to go to jail."

"But it's like you said! It leads to nothing but suspicion. They can't accuse you of anything. You're safe."

I clench my jaw. He might be right, but…

"Listen," I say. "You're gonna tell me exactly what you saw in that illusion and what you told the cops. I don't want any more surprises."

"Of course," he says. "That's only fair." He clears his throat. "I saw that the exorcism room was replaced by some kind of Arcean chapel and that you were… strapped to a board, and that something had… ripped its way out of you." He slows down like he's worried it's too scary for me. I hope my indignant look tells him that's not the case. "There was some kind of black horned beast mauling a group of robed humans and an arcanine and a magneton. Against the wall, there was the girl, scared. The beast saw her, and it…" He stops. Oh, brother.

"And?" I ask, quirking a brow.

"Well, the beast… ripped her head off and ate it," he gets out. "And then tendrils came out of the beast's mouth and pulled out the yamask from the girl. And she shouted… 'Stop! Stop! He killed me! He killed me!'. And then the beast ate her, too."

Oh fuck. So he heard that part.

Samson lowers his voice. "What do you think she meant by that? 'He killed me?""

I try not to let my concern show. "Beats me," I say. "I still don't remember anything."

"My son suggested that there may have actually been two ghosts," he says. "The yamask and whatever was taking the form of that beast. And maybe the other ghost was the one that had killed the yamask."

Relief comes over me. He isn't accusing me of murdering her. Still, the cops might not see it that way…

"Maybe," I say. "Though I still don't know what I would have done to get a ghost stuck in my head, let alone two."

There's a brief silence. Samson looks bothered. Then, he sighs. "Look, I'm sorry," he says, "but I want to do everything I can for that little girl, even if it's a dead end. Can you forgive me?"

I look at him. He pleads with his eyes. A grown man. What a disgrace.

But do I have a choice? I still have to act nice.

"Fine," I say, and the relief is clear on Samson's face. "But I want you to warn me about this stuff in advance, okay?"

"Of course," he says, pulling out his phone. "What's your phone number?"

"Uhh… I don't have a phone right now, but my brother's used to taking my calls. His number is…"

I give him Abe's number and he taps it down. "Aaand done," he says, putting his phone away. "So, anything else you feel like talking about?"

"Nothing," I tell him. Nothing with you. "I'd like to get back to work now, thanks."

"Of course." He nods and finally leaves. I sigh. There's one guy I'll definitely kick around once I get my fangs and claws.

Shaking my head, I get back to picking up cigarette butts and candy wrappers.

---​

On my way home, I get a nasty surprise. A gray car is parked in front of the house. Mom's car. What the hell is she doing here?

Well, I guess I have to go inside to find out. I step up to the door and enter the house. There's a smell of coffee and something baked. I take off my shoes and make my way to the kitchen, where my mother is sitting at the table with Abe. She takes one look at me and gets up.

"Look at the time," she says. "It's time for me to go."

"Mom, please," Abe begs.

"No, no, I have things to do. Busy woman. You can call me later."

She grabs her purse and walks past me, her gaze avoiding my face. I don't say anything as she puts on her shoes.

Abe sighs. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," she replies and leaves.

After the door is shut, silence falls upon the house. I look around, briefly locking eyes with Fonz sitting in the living room, looking over the back of the couch. He must have my lord with him.

Abe pockets his hands. "I made blueberry pie."

I look over to the kitchen and see that he's telling the truth. The pie is half eaten, lying above the stove. There's some coffee left in the coffee maker. Abe must have made that just for her.

I'm not interested in being discreet right now. "So you invited my mom over."

"Our mom," he corrects.

"Whatever. You invited her over. Why?"

Abe shrugs. "Just to catch up."

I frown. "You could have just called her."

"But I didn't." He crosses his arms.

So now he's giving me attitude, huh? Must be more of Alice's doing. I hate how much confidence she's been giving Abe. He's much more useful submissive.

"This is her house, Red," he says. "She's allowed to come over."

"And I'm allowed not to like it," I retort. I walk up to Abe, letting my taller frame tower over him. I expect him to step back, but he doesn't. Insolent.

"This is ridiculous," he says. "You're both grown adults. You should be able to be in the same room together like regular people.

"Of course we can do that," I growl. "We just don't want to."

"Yeah, but you're not gonna resolve anything by just avoiding each other all the time!"

"And who said we want to resolve anything?" I say, raising my voice. Abe flinches, but refuses to back down.

"You should because this isn't healthy," Abe insists. "And I'm sick of being the middle man. You should be able to figure out the economics of the house without dumping it on me, a fifteen-year-old!"

"And here I thought you liked math!"

I see his hands tighten into fists, but just as quickly, they open. Yeah, that's right. He doesn't dare.

He closes his eyes and sighs. "I just think everything would be easier if you two could put aside your differences and talk like adults."

I cross my arms. "It's her that doesn't know how to do that."

"She says the same thing about you."

"Oh, so you've talked about me?"

Abe glances away. "Among other things," he replies.

"Let me guess," I say. "She says I'm a violent, emotionally unstable parasite and everyone would be better off with me in jail."

"She didn't say that."

"Then what did she say?"

"That's… that's not the point --"

"Oh, so you can't say it to my face. That must mean it's good."

He takes his fingers to his temple. "Red…"

I know I'm just being flippant now, but I don't care. I want Abe to understand that that woman brings out the worst in me and that I really believe it's her fault.

"There's such a thing as being the bigger man," Abe says. "Like, even if it were true that she thinks that way about you, you can still be the mature one and --"

"I don't want to be the mature one," I say, fully aware of how it sounds. "I don't care about that. She doesn't deserve mature behavior from me. For fuck's sake, she's a mother! She should be prepared to deal with immaturity!"

I heard a small gasp from Fonz. Must have been the 'fuck'. Yeah, I agree. I shouldn't use that language around Him.

"It's not just her that suffers from your immaturity, it's everyone around you! Family, friends, society!"

"What friends?"

He quiets. I quiet. Then he speaks up again.

"Maybe if you acted better, you'd have some friends to call your own."

Oh, great. Now this is about my lack of friends. "I don't need friends," I hiss. "I'm perfectly fine without them. Do you think I don't know what my behavior is like? Do you think that's not by design?" It half is and half isn't. "I'm just not a friendly guy, and I'm not gonna pretend any different." Except I am, in the program. I'm starting to say things that would just win me the argument here. I should end this conversation. It's not one I wanted to have to begin with.

I step off and head for the stairs. "I'm gonna go work out. Don't interrupt me."

"Red, wait," he tries.

"Nah." I slip through the door downstairs. I stomp down the stairs and make it to my workout room. I topple over a mattress, throw away my hoodie and shirt and start doing pushups. The adrenaline makes them light in the beginning, but then my arms get heavy. I push through a couple more and then let myself collapse on the mattress. I take a moment to feel the beat of my heart and the rhythm of my breath. Slowly, they both calm down.

I hear steps coming downstairs. They sound heavy enough to be Fonz's. I sigh. I don't look at the doorframe as he arrives.

"Hey," I hear him say.

"What do you want?"

He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to remind you that you have a responsibility to act maturely."

"And what responsibility is that?" I ask, though I already know.

"Helix," he says. "He looks up to you, and that means you need to set a good example."

I sigh. He's right. My lord needs to learn to be social and well-behaved in order to be successful. I shouldn't sabotage that for Him just because I can't do it myself.

"You may be right," I say, sitting up. I lift my gaze to meet his. It's stern. It's rare for him, which is somewhat strange when you think about how much power he has. He acts very submissively for his species. "Do you want me to do something about it?"

He looks to the ceiling, thoughtful. "Not right now, I think. But the next time your mother comes over, you should ask her to stay, and you should behave yourself around her."

I frown. I didn't want there to be a next time. I never do. "You're asking a lot of me."

"You don't have to be Mr Friendly," he says. "You just have to restrain yourself. Be polite."

I groan. "But I hate her."

"I know, that's become quite apparent by now," he says. "But you should at least make an effort. That's all I'm asking."

I sigh again. Deeply.

"Don't you have therapy these days?" he asks. "Maybe you could ask for some help over there."

That's… actually a pretty good idea. I hate it when he's right. "I could try that out."

"Good," he says, taking a step away, but turning back to me. "And I want you to apologize to Abe."

I grunt. "Fine. But only once I'm ready to."

"As long as it's today," Fonz says. He turns to the stairs again. "See you later."

"Yeah, see you too."

He ascends the stairs and I hear him step through the door. I sigh and drop onto the mattress.

I don't really want to work out anymore. I'd rather go for a walk.

I get up and put my shirt and hoodie back on before returning upstairs. I walk past Abe in the kitchen without a sound or a look, heading straight for the front door. I slip through and meet the outside. It's sunny and warm, like it was earlier today. I don't think I fully enjoyed it before. I was too preoccupied with my anger at Samson.

Well, this is a good moment to rectify that. I start walking down the street, soaking in the sunshine and feeling the breeze in my hair. It's calming, and that's just what I need.

You know what would make this even better? Taking this walk to the woods. I think I'll do that.

I walk until I reach my usual path at the edge of the woods and enter. I can already hear the chirps of pidgey, the warbles of starly and the cawing of murkrow. Dappled sunlight dances stop the forest floor, filtered by the branches of the pines towering over me. I pass by a razzberry bush. There's a lot of berries forming. There'll be a good harvest in the fall.

I take in a deep breath and let it out. The fight that happened just minutes ago already seems like a distant memory, pushed aside by the present and its beauty.

I see a white shape on the reddish trunk of one of the pines. A pachirisu. It looks at me and climbs further up, reaching a branch and sitting down on it. I click my tongue a couple of times. It responds with its own chitter before skittering off, taking impressive leaps to make it from tree to tree and defying gravity by running across the trunks as if they weren't vertical at all.

I sigh. It was born to climb. If only I was allowed to do what I was made for. But no, I need a god's help for that.

I keep walking, entertaining the thought of prowling these woods once I get my fangs and claws. I'd hunt down farfetch'd, wrestle ursa with my bare hands, end the day by making a fire at my campsite and falling asleep by its side, a stantler pelt as my blanket. A perfect day.

But wait. What's that in the distance? Two men in blue uniforms?

I freeze. Cops. They even seem to be the same cops from Monday. What are they doing here? Are they investigating something?

Making sure to keep a low profile, I follow them from afar as they walk onwards. It looks like there's something they're following, a dark purple cloud… a gastly?

Oh fuck. Is it one of Michi's friends? Now I have to know what they're after…

A minute or so later, the cops and the ghost arrive at a small opening with a large rock in the middle. I can see glimpses of other gastly and some misdreavus. This has to be Michi's friend group.

"Here we are," says the gastly that was leading the cops, and I recognize her voice. Gabby, the gastly that gave me an illusion when I returned to the cabin to look for any proof I might have left behind.

"So, you all knew Michi?" asks the taller cop.

A bunch of 'yeah's sound out. They didn't all speak, though. They must not all know how to do that.

"And she came to this place often?"

"Not really," Gabby says. "There's an abandoned cabin that we spent a lot of time at. This place is just where I told them all to meet you. They don't trust humans, so they don't want their hideout revealed."

"That hideout may turn out extremely important to the investigation," the shorter cop says. "We have to ask you to take us there."

The ghosts look at each other. They might be conversing with each other with aura.

"Alright, just hold on," says Gabby. "Can we at least talk here for a while so they can see you guys aren't dangerous?"

"That's alright by us," says the shorter cop. "So, what was the nature of your relationship like?"

"She used to come to the cabin during or after school to hang out with us," Gabby says. "She'd then show us videos or read us books. We had a great time." She pauses. "Except she hadn't done that lately, because there was a new ghost in the woods."

"A new ghost?"

"Yeah. Of that type that carries a golden mask of its former self. A… something-mask."

Oh fuck. Right. They knew about that.

"Yamask?" the taller cop suggests. He exchanges a look with his partner. Are they thinking about my case?

"Probably that. Anyway, we're already used to her getting some distance from us when there's a new ghost around. She needs time to make friends with them and show them that she's friendly. So we were steering clear of her to give her that space." Gabby pauses. "And then she went missing."

"But what about the man?" said one of the two misdreavus I can see.

"What man?" asked the shorter cop.

"Michi and the new ghost met a weird man. Michi told me when we saw."

Oh shit.

"What did this 'weird man' do?"

"He… he…" The misdreavus turns to Gabby, I guess to speak to her via aura.

"He followed them," Gabby translated. "Seemed to be interested in the yamask and seemed to be hiding something. Michi scared him away with her knife, though."

Not true, but I’m too anxious to care. If they put together that that man was me…

"Did she mention any details about this man?"

Gabby looks at the misdreavus. "Young, long dark hair." Her eyes narrow. "This… kinda matches the guy that came to the cabin a few days ago. I pulled an illusory prank on him and he freaked out.”

And here’s more evidence. Fuck.

Gabby tilts in the air. ”Flutter, why didn't you tell us about this before?"

"Forgot."

"Of course."

"Young with long dark hair," repeated the taller cop. "Does that sound familiar?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. They’re figuring it out. They’re gonna know it was me. They’re gonna --

"Hey, just like this guy!"

I flinch at the voice and turn around. Another gastly's floating behind me. How did it get there without me noticing? Right, of course, it's a ghost. And it probably sensed my aura. I carved that psychic nullifier so long ago that it’s probably healed enough by now not to work anymore…

Well, it's too late to run now. Not to mention that'd just make things worse. But I'm still not totally busted, though, right? They have no actual proof I've done anything, do they?

The cops recognize me from afar. "Mr Akai, is that you?"

I take a deep, shaking breath. I guess there’s no way out of this. My best bet now is to cooperate. "Yes, it’s me."

The cops come over. "What are you doing eavesdropping on an investigation?"

"I… just happened to be passing by when I saw you," I say. "And it sounded interesting. Sorry."

Next up is Gabby. Her eyes widen as she gets close. "You're the guy I gave that illusion!"

And thanks for that, by the way. You made me think I'd permanently gone insane.

Her expression contorts into a snarl. "What did you do to Michi?" she yells. A ball of blue fire forms in front of her, and she -- whoa!

I barely dodge her will-o-wisp. The shorter cop shoves his way in front of me.

"Hey, hey, none of that," he says. "You don't even know if he did anything."

"I'll torch an innocent man any day if it means I get to torch someone who hurt my friend," Gabby spits.

"Not something you should be saying in front of cops," the taller man mutters.

The shorter cop turns to me. "Mr Akai, did you meet Michi Koizumi in the woods a few days ago?"

Okay, what do I do? Do I stick to my lie? I think that's best. "No, I didn't. I've never met her. The first time I saw her was on the news."

"He's nervous! He's lying!" shouts the misdreavus. Damn it, aura. Just how much can they tell?

I clench my teeth and hold my position. It’s okay. The word of these ghosts is just their word. The police can't take it as fact.

"Well, did you get shown an illusion by this gastly?" the shorter cop asks, gesturing to Gabby, who's still giving me a death stare.

"That I did." No point in lying about that. "It wasn't nice."

The shorter cop holds a stare, then exchanges a look with his partner. "I guess that's all we can ask. You're free to go."

Tension leaves my shoulders. Oh, thank fuck. I’m still a free man.

"What?" shouts Gabby. "He's lying! He's the man Michi met! He did something to her!"

“You can’t make that accusation,” the shorter cop says, raising his palms. “There’s no proof.”

“No proof? Flutter saw it in his aura! There’s your proof.”

“Flutter may be able to see that, but we can’t,” the shorter cop says. ”And we can’t just take her word for it.”

“Are you calling her a liar?”

“No, miss…” The cop pauses and blinks, probably because he realized he doesn’t actually know if he should call Gabby a ‘miss’. “I’m just saying that we need to adhere to principles of the justice system and consider someone innocent before they’re proven guilty. And proof needs to be objective.” He puts his hands on his belt. “If you want to help, you’ll take us to the cabin. We might find something there that actually holds up in court.”

Gabby frowns. “Fine.”

A chorus of protesting voices arises from the other ghosts. “We have to!” Gabby shouts. “It’s the only way to help Michi.”

The ghosts quiet, but don’t seem happy.

“Let’s go,” Gabby mutters and floats back the way she came. The cops and the other ghosts follow. A few meters from me, she looks back at me. “This isn’t over,” she says. “One way or another, you’re gonna be sorry.”

They keep going until they disappear behind the vegetation.

Well.

Okay.

That was a lot to take in.

So the cops now know that I was with Michi and that I lied about it. What does that mean?

Well, it means that they’ll be looking for any evidence of me doing something criminal to her. But such evidence does not exist. I’ve been very careful about making sure it doesn’t.

But what if it does? What if I’ve forgotten something? What if the clock is ticking towards the moment they unearth it and come to my door to put handcuffs on me and drag me to the station?

I have to hurry up.

I have to find my Bringer as soon as possible. That’s the only way I’ll avoid death.

Which means… I’ll have to start stalking the streets tonight.

But there’s something else I gotta take care of first. I didn’t like the way Gabby was talking to me. I need to get some talismans for protection, which means a trip to the nearest shrine. I think that’s the shrine to the Thunder God on Parasect Hill. Should be about two bus trips away. I need to swing by the house and get some cash…

---​

Those talismans were overpriced. I only got three talismans and one amulet with the money I brought. What a ripoff. I can’t wait until a way to mass-produce them is discovered.

I decided to hang one talisman in each floor of the house - one in He and Fonz’s bedroom, one in mine and one in the secret room of the basement. That ought to keep Gabby away. While I’m indoors, anyway. For the outside, there’s the amulet, the most expensive one of them all. The priestess warned that it was strong and that it wouldn’t be healthy to wear it for extended periods of time, but I already have just six months of regular life left. When those are up, I’ll either be invincible or going to die anyway.

“So… talismans?” Fonz asks as I emerge from the basement. “What makes you suddenly so interested in warding off ghosts?”

“Met a mean one on my walk,” I answer, not really lying. “Don’t want that to happen in my own house.”

“Well, just remember that those are gonna have to come down if Helix ever makes a ghost friend.”

I shudder. I hope not.

Fonz glances around the floor and leans closer to me. “Have you apologized to Abe yet?”

What? Oh, that. Ngh. “No, not yet.”

“Well, there’s no time like the present.”

“I guess not.” I sigh. I head upstairs and to the door to Abe’s room. I knock.

“Come in,” I hear him say.

I open the door and step through. He raises his gaze from his homework, then lets it drop again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I greet back. “I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

“You are?”

Yeah, same. “Yeah. I’m sorry for acting the way I did.”

“Oh. Well… that’s okay.”

“Thanks.”

I stay in the doorframe for a while longer, but he says nothing. Shit, I guess I’m done here, then. I close the door and return downstairs. I think I’ll just watch some TV until the night. And have some of that blueberry pie Abe made. If there’s anything left.

I check it. There’s two pieces left. Nice.

---​

Okay. Knife. Rag. Vial. Chalk. Backpack with water bottle and sponge. Cash for the bus. One transportation circle drawn on the floor of the secret room. I’m ready. Physically ready, anyway.

Everyone else in the house has gone to sleep by now. I’ll have to make sure not to wake them up when I get back. They might ask about my items, and there’s really no innocent explanation for why one would be carrying a vial of paras spores and a rag.

I step through the front door and into the cool night air. Streetlights illuminate the street. It’s peaceful, and I know this neighborhood is safe, but that’s exactly why I have to go into town.

I start heading in the direction of the closest bus stop, equal parts anxious and excited. After all, there’s a chance I might come back home to the next Bringer.

---​
 
Chapter Five - Learning

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
Hey! Told you we'd be slowing down. Although this time it's more because I've been distracted by other projects and also decided to get a bit of a backlog before posting.

This chapter marks the end of the first arc of the story. There are three in total (at least, I have planned for three). Content warning for references to domestic abuse (both emotional and physical), blood and gore, fear of death and a depiction of a panic attack. Rated mature. Enjoy!

---

CHAPTER FIVE
Learning


---​

May 23rd, 149

Since my last journal entry, things have changed somewhat.

On a walk I took to the woods yesterday, I bumped into the police officers that had questioned me on Monday. They were questioning Michi’s ghost friends. One of them described a young man with long dark hair as someone who Michi had encountered, and another one of them caught me eavesdropping. Luckily, this was still not any kind of real proof of any crime, and the police let me go, but through the ghosts sensing my lying aura, I am certain the police now know that I’m a key figure in Michi’s disappearance. I am worried they will unearth something new soon, something that will actually result in consequences.

Given this, I have decided that I cannot afford to wait with my plan of nightly stalking. I have already spent one night searching for criminals, but came home empty-handed. That is alright. I did not honestly expect to find one so soon. It’s a good thing I have six months to do this. Surely in that time I will find what I need.

Red Akai, High Priest


---​

As I’d come to expect by now, the community service of the 23rd was uneventful. We simply did more cleaning this time. The rest of the day passed by like any other day, too, save for the addition of criminal-hunting at night… but nothing happened there, either. The streets were empty. It’s only today, back in therapy, that things are about to get interesting.

By interesting, I mean annoying.

“Hi!” greets Sonya as she emerges behind the door to her room, and I nod in response. “Come in, please.”

I get up from my seat and enter the room. We sit on the armchairs like before.

“So, how have you been?” she asks.

“I’ve been alright,” I answer.

She looks through her notebook. “Last time, we talked a bit about post-possession symptoms,” she says. “Have you noticed any new ones now that you know what’s possible?”

“No, not really. Just the anxiety and the stressful dreams.”

She nods. “And how about those group members of yours? Have you gotten to know them any better?”

Ngh. “Yeah, one of them. We had pokémon shelter duty together.”

“Did you have a good time?”

Unfortunately, yes, even though I shouldn’t have. “Yeah. We have similar interests. She’s going to pre-med for forensic pathology, and I… I’m interested in biology.”

“That’s nice,” Sonya says, writing down something in the notebook. “Do you think you’ll be talking to her more?”

“We have shelter duty again today, so yeah,” I answer. “Talking to her makes it go by faster.”

Sonya nods. “Did you find it difficult to talk to her after not socializing for so long?”

I tilt my head. “No, not really? I know how to have a conversation.”

“That’s a useful skill.”

I’m beginning to get a bit annoyed. I’m supposed to be talking about my mother, not get stuck on one conversation I had with someone a week ago.

“Now, is there something specific you’d like to discuss with me today?”

There we go. Nice. “Actually, yeah.” I shift in my seat. “Yesterday, I came home to see my mom there. I don’t have a good relationship with her, so she left. I ended up having an argument about it with my stepbrother who thought we should get along. I got kinda heated and left. Then my nidoking friend came to me and said that I really should get along better with my mother because it’ll be a better example to my omanyte friend.” I pause. “He’s pretty young, and we’re kind of like His parents, you see.”

Sonya nods, encouraging me to keep going.

“So…” I fidget with my fingers. “I’d like to talk about my relationship with my mother, and I’d like to get some advice on how to be around her without getting angry. Can we do that?” Can we do that? Of course we can. That’s her job.

“Of course,” she says, leaning back in her armchair. “Where would you like to begin?”

I sigh. “Well, I guess I better begin at the start,” I say. “I remember being very little when I was first reprimanded for my behavior. It felt harsh then, but I must have only been five or so. In retrospect, it was normal. What wasn’t normal was what was to come.“

“What had you done to be reprimanded?”

“I don’t remember, really. Probably just not shared and cared like I was expected to. But… once I got into school, I remember starting to push around some kids. Threatening them with violence. And then I did get violent a few times. No one got that hurt, but it was worrying behavior for a kid. I remember my mom tried to be on my side first, assuming that the other kids had done something to me, but they hadn’t. I was just a bully. And as she heard the other side more and more, she came to that same conclusion.

“She tried to reprimand me more, send me to my room and take away TV time, but it didn’t really work. I’d carved out my spot in the social hierarchy and I didn’t want to leave it. I guess I was partly worried that if I did, I’d become the one who was pushed around. And I was too proud for that.” Or sensitive. But you’ll never hear me describe myself as ‘sensitive’.

“Then, of course, the universe made that decision for me. I remember this one time when a bunch of kids stood up to me and basically said they were done with my shit… and if I ever tried to push someone around, they would do it again. And then they’d start bullying me. I got into trouble with them a lot, and my mother never took my side. After all, I was the bully.”

“That must have been harsh.”

I sigh. “It wasn’t fun, that’s for sure. I learned that I couldn’t rely on anyone to help me. Least of all my mother.”

“Have you talked about it with her?”

“I’ve tried, but all she sees is someone pretending to be the victim. She knows I can lie and manipulate to get my way. I’ve done it before.”

“What is your relationship like nowadays?”

“Strained. We avoid seeing each other as much as we can. We only come together to talk in cases where it’s absolutely necessary, like when discussing house economics or getting that lawyer for my court hearing. Other times, we communicate through Abe, my stepbrother.”

“That sounds pretty messy.”

“It kind of is. In fact, Abe expressed just yesterday how he’s sick of being the middle man. So I should probably start becoming okay with talking to my mom directly.”

Sonya nods. “What about your stepfather? What does he think?”

“I don’t really know. He travels a lot, so we rarely see him. Kinda like how I rarely see my mom. Match made in heaven, I guess.” I pause. “But I can’t imagine he approves of how distant me and mom are, either.”

“What happened to your biological father, if I may ask?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. My mother won’t tell me. The only clue I have is that the house still has some of his old clothes. I’m thinking he died or something.”

“So would you say that you’ve grown up without a father figure?”

I pause. “I guess.” Closest thing I can think of is HIM, but HE is my god. Much farther above me than a father.

“Have you ever wanted to have one?”

“Well… I would’ve wanted some adult to stand by me as a kid, but I didn’t specifically wish for a father. Just… someone.”

Sonya nods. She shifts in her armchair. “So, you’d like to learn to be better around your mother?”

I nod. “And other people, too, but let’s stick to that for now.”

She clears her throat. “Well, the first thing to know is that it will take time. You’re both very used to how things are now, and differing behavior will be perceived as an exception before it can become the new normal.”

“Right.” Of course I know that it’ll take time. I’m not five.

“And you need to know that you can step away at any moment if it gets to be too much for you. Set healthy boundaries.”

I nod, suppressing a frown. I’d rather face the problem head on than hide.

“What you should do is prepare yourself before you meet her,” she says. “Be ready to hear the accusations you’ve heard before and maybe some new ones. That way it won’t catch you off guard, and you can control your own reaction better.”

“Right.”

“Let’s try to imagine it. Imagine a situation in which you two would need to spend time together. What situation is that?”

I think about it. “I guess that could be a repeat of yesterday, but her not leaving when I arrive. Her and Abe… could have been talking about me, and everything around my incident with the ghost.”

“She doesn’t leave. Instead, she does something that upsets you. What would that be?”

“Well, she could keep talking about me as if I’m not there and… express her disappointment in the fact that I’ve been caught for a crime.”

“What does that make you want to do?”

“Makes me want to remind her that I was under possession at the time and that it wasn’t my fault.”

“Do you do that?”

I think about it. I’d like to, but it feels like the wrong answer. “I don’t.”

“Good. That would likely only cause an argument. What happens next?”

“I don’t know, maybe she goes, like, ‘I feel like the judge made a mistake. He’s violent. He should be in jail.’”

“And what does that make you think?”

Well… that it’s kind of true, but that it still hurts. “Like she doesn’t think I should have any rights. That I don’t deserve to be free.”

“And what does that make you want to do?”

“Call her a terrible mother who’s abandoning her son.”

“And do you do that?”

“No.” I shift in my chair. “Look, this is sensible and easy to figure out when I’m not actually there. I need more help with containing my anger so that I don’t do the stupid thing that I want to do despite the urge.”

“I see,” she says. “Well, you could always tell yourself to pause before you make any rash decisions. Things are a lot clearer when you approach them calmly. You can remind yourself that what she says is just her opinion and that her opinion doesn’t matter to you.”

“But she’s insulting me. It… hurts my pride.”

“You could try to feel pride in not stooping to her level. Being the bigger person.”

I don’t know… a Helixian would not take an insult sitting down. He’d attempt to establish his dominance. But there is also something about considering the other person to be so lowly that their words have no importance to you…

But… ngh. “But I’ll look like such a bitch.”

“To whom?”

“To… whoever’s there.”

“Perhaps your mother, but do you think your stepbrother would think less of you?”

“...No. He’d be proud of me.”

“And he should.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t respect Abe’s opinion. “And then there’s… me. I’d know that I didn’t stand up for myself, and I’d be disappointed in myself.”

“Who says that you aren’t standing up for yourself? You’re just doing it in a calmer, more rational manner.”

“...I guess that’s true.”

“And remember that you can simply leave at any time. If you feel like you’re going to do something you’ll regret, just remove yourself from the situation and don’t come back until you feel ready.”

“Isn’t that quitting?”

“It’s knowing your limits.”

It is wise to know one’s limits… but I just wish mine weren’t so narrow.

“Want to try another situation?” she asks. “The more you think these things through, the more naturally they’ll come to you once you need them.”

I rub my chin. “Sure, why not.” I pause. “I guess another situation could be her coming home to discuss the home’s economics…”

---​

The rest of the session followed the same pattern. Repeating the same thing over and over, it was hard to feel like progress was being made, but I trusted her word. Or I distrusted her word little enough.

Nevertheless, I left in pretty good spirits and got myself a burger before arriving at the community center. Once again, Suki and I are dropped off at the shelter, and Chiho comes to greet us. We move to the cages, and Suki starts gathering the pokémon to walk again.

Alright, so… I should talk to her. Get a conversation going like last time. But I can't lose myself in it or forget that she's beneath me.

I take a deep breath, silently enough to keep her from noticing, and speak my words.

"So… you mentioned writing in the last group meeting. What is it that you write?"

She turns to me in an instant, gasping, a wild gleam in her eyes. It's a little scary. Did I say something wrong?

"O-okay, so," she starts, clearing her throat, "I write multiple stories, but my main one is about this psychic girl with intrusive thoughts that force her to read others' minds even though it's illegal, and she accidentally uncovers a huge worldwide conspiracy about vampires --"

Vampires?

"-- who rule the world and keep humans as cattle but nobody knows this because they have magic to wipe humans' memories and cover up bite marks so there's no evidence of them existing --"

Magic? Hey, slow down…

"-- but the girl keeps reading the minds of vampires and finds out about a secret council and she goes there with a video camera but she gets caught and imprisoned. The vampires try to wipe her memory but find out that she's immune to their magic and they have to look into it so they don't kill her yet but this gives a rogue vampire time to free her and the girl wants to reveal the vampires to the world but the rogue says that would start a massive war and that the efforts of the rogue clan are a better bet because they seek to topple the vampire order from the shadows --" She wheezes in air, having forgotten to breathe. "Actually, let's finish leashing these mon up first, we can talk more while we're walking."

"...Sure," I say, though I'm scared of what's to come.

---​

Suki ends up unloading what I imagine to be the outline of her entire story onto me as we're walking Ritz and Ratz and co with the addition of a couple tangents about side stories. Credit where credit is due, she is creative. I just wish I could keep up.

Or, no, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that we have a good relationship, and as long as I just nod along, that'll take care of itself.

By the time we return and switch to entertaining the felines again, though, I'm kind of sick of the whole thing and desperate for a change of subject. I would've expected Suki to realize by now that she's coming on too strong, but it seems like she's too swept up in sharing her niche interest that she's lost sight of boundaries.

Thankfully, she soon gets to the ending - where the psychic girl is now a vampire too, and getting married to the rogue whose therapist she'd essentially become - and I find a reasonable spot to hit the brakes or at least slow her down.

"That's quite a story," I say, not exaggerating. "How long have you been writing?"

"Well, I've always liked making up stories, but I only really reawakened my inner storyteller five years ago as I got into…" She quiets, looking at the floor. "Um, online writing communities."

Why did she react that way? Is there something embarrassing about these communities? Oh, I don't care. I don't care about this. Let's see, what would I care about?

The conversation with my therapist earlier today springs into mind. What's Suki's family like? Maybe her parents suck, too, and she could give me some advice in dealing with their kind that the therapist didn't.

"I see. What about your parents? Do they read your story?"

She chuckles nervously. "Oh, well, most of my story actually isn't written, but… no, I don't want them to read my story. It gets pretty graphic, and… they don't like to think of me associated with brutal stuff like that. Especially now that…" She trails off.

"Now that what?"

"Well… my whole accident," she says quietly, "with the ghost and the… stabbing."

"Right," I say. I can tell this subject is uncomfortable for her, but I'd also like to know more about it, her being the only other one in the group with possession experience. "How did they react to that?"

"They were horrified," she says. "They were in the other room when it happened. They heard my brother scream and rushed in and saw me holding the bloody knife. I can't get the looks on their faces out of my head… it's like they'd seen their worst nightmare come true."

"Then what happened?"

"I realized what I'd done and started panicking. I told my brother I was sorry, over and over again, but he was just crying."

She frowns, clenching a fist.

"You angry about something?"

She glances at me, and then away again. "It's just that he always called me the crybaby. He brought up constantly how he never cried, how he was a man. And there he was, sobbing like a little kid throwing a tantrum." She perks up, blinking, as if she'd just snapped out of something. "Sorry, that's fucked up of me to say. He was stabbed. Of course he gets to cry. I just… I still have the thoughts I had back then, which were under the influence of that shuppet."

"That's alright. I get it."

"Do… you remember twisted thoughts like that when you were under possession yourself?"

"I don't remember anything from my time under possession myself," I tell her. "Sorry."

"Oh. Okay." She pauses. "I have to admit I'm a bit jealous of that. I'd rather not have these memories."

I can imagine that. When a mareep commits acts of violence, they feel bad. It shocks them because it isn't natural for them. Their instincts tell them to protect their brethren rather than hurt them.

But when they get mad enough… that's when they can show they have a little houndoom in them after all.

"Can I ask you what made you stab your brother? Or was it just purely the shuppet?"

She shakes her head. "The shuppet is why I went through with it, but the motivation was my own. You see, he's… he's always putting me down. Telling me how I'm worse than him because my grades aren't as perfect. Telling me I'm lazy and I don't study enough when I really try my hardest. And, you know, I'm possibly disabled, too? I haven't gotten a diagnosis yet, but my doctor suspects I'm autistic and have ADHD, so…"

Autistic? ADHD? I admit that I have little information about those things, but she doesn't seem like she's either based on what I know… but, then again, if her doctor says it, he's more qualified than me.

Suki pauses. "Um, sorry. I probably shouldn't have shared that."

I don't really have an opinion on that, but maybe it's better we move on. "That's alright. So, your brother?"

She sighs. "Yeah, in short, he's a dick. I'd wanted to explode at him for longer, but every previous time had just ended with him calling me a brat for my outburst and making it out as if I was unable to take well-meaning criticism - read: bashing. But when he started on his bullshit again, and I had a knife… the thought came that I might finally be able to show him that I mean business. And that shuppet in my brain silenced any decent part of me that would've told me it was wrong. The result? A stabbing."

She falls quiet. A question comes to me, and I feel like I shouldn't speak it. But I want to know.

"Did it… feel good?"

She glances at me, surprised. She then stares at the floor. "For, like, a second. Then I was just horrified. Just like my parents."

Oh. Yeah. Well, that's to be expected.

She closes her eyes. "I'm sorry, but this is kind of a hard topic for me. Could we talk about something else?"

Right. I guess this was something pretty traumatic for her. "Sure."

She sighs, then forces a smile. "So, what are your hobbies?"

"My hobbies?"

"Yeah. You know mine is writing, but what are yours?"

"Oh. Well, uhh… it's not very exciting. I just watch TV a lot."

"Like, Natuflix or TV-TV?"

"TV-TV. Whatever's on."

She snickers. "What are you, fifty?"

I can't help but feel insulted. "No, I just…"

She laughs. "I'm just kidding," she says. "You do you. But seriously, do you not watch anything online? There's so much stuff to choose from."

"Well, I…" Shit! Do I tell her about my phobia? She's going to get suspicious if I don't admit to doing anything online. It's the year 149, for Gods' sake.

I sigh. Maybe if I tell her an edited version of the truth. "Well, the truth is… I kind of have a phobia of screens due to what I went through during the Twitch."

"A phobia of…" She blinks. "Really?"

"Really."

"But that shuts you out of so much stuff."

I shrug. "It does, but I manage. Can't hurt if I don't know what I'm missing out on."

"Have you talked to your therapist about that?"

Now it's my turn to blink. That is something I could do. The last time I tried to deal with my phobia was on my own without guidance. With a mental health expert on my side… maybe things could turn out differently.

But should I really take on something like that now that I have my mission of finding a Bringer to worry about?

"I guess I could," I tell her anyway.

"In my opinion, you should," she says. "There's so much fun stuff to do online. Watch videos, look at memes, chat with friends, read fanf- stories, gush about your favorite shows and movies… even the ones they play on TV-TV." She chuckles.

Well, that does sound like it would help kill time… but I have more important things to worry about. "I'll think about it," I say, already looking for the next topic. "Say, have you read anything new and interesting about biology since we met?"

"Oh, lemme think. Well… I found out that, apparently, there's a link between mutations that make coats or skin whiter and deafness. Like, piebald houndoom, for example - that's the mutation that causes white fur with black spots - have a much higher chance of being deaf than regular colored houndoom…"

---​

Well, I think that went well. As Suki spoke, I took a good look at her every now and then and reminded myself that she was a mareep. I don't feel connected to her. That's good.

Now, on to more important matters.

Streetlights pass by as I sit in the nearly-empty bus, illuminating the nighttime city. There's just one other person here besides me, and he just pressed the stop button. Not that I'm that far away from my destination myself.

The bus stops and the guy gets off. Two stops later, I do the same. The air is cool but still smells of exhaust fumes. I head away from the main street and towards the alleyways.

Okay. Here we go again. New streets, old protocol. Just keep walking and keep your eyes and ears open.

Wandering in the back alleys, my mind quickly starts to do the same. What should I say to the candidate once he wakes up? Or should I just bring him straight to HIM? That would be the most efficient approach, but honestly speaking, I'd like to get to be a bit dramatic. 'Welcome, criminal. I've seen what you do, and I'm impressed. As a prize, I give you the greatest opportunity one can ask for - to become a god. What do you say?'

I smile, knowing I'm being silly. I bet the criminal would just think I'm insane. Well, he'd be in for a big surprise. I wonder how HE would show him HIS power. Would HE appear in HIS omastar form? HIS worm form? As Kohath? Or would HE simply be a voice, impossible to resist? Oh, I'm jealous now. I wish I could meet HIM again for the first time. I wish HE would show me this new world all over again, make me HIS own. I'd bow to HIM so deeply, owing HIM my life. And HE would know my unwavering loyalty.

Only… is it unwavering? It has wavered quite a bit lately, hasn't it?

Shivers crawl down my body. Yeah, not so nice thinking about that, is it.

I shake my head. It's water under the bridge. HE and I have a new agreement, and as long as I adhere to the terms, it'll be alright. I won't have the chance to be a god anymore, but I'll get the next best thing - an enhanced body and immortality.

But what if the new Bringer doesn't like me? What if he convinces HIM to destroy me?

More shudders. That's not a nice thought at all. But HE wouldn't break HIS promise, would HE? And even when merged, HE still has the upper hand. HIS wishes cannot be overridden. So… I should be safe.

But He won't be.

Oh fuck. This again. My gut twists, and I hate that it does that. It really would have been better for me to sever my attachment, but I already know that's not possible. Dammit! What am I supposed to do? Just accept that He'll die? No, I can't go through that again. Or… can I? If I'll be a true predator, will I really care?

I take a new turn. I see a woman walking some way ahead of me. She doesn't seem to notice me, and she has no reason to. Plus, I think she's on her phone.

She walks past another alley --

A man barges out from the alley, grabbing onto the woman. She screams, but he clamps a hand over her mouth. He begins to drag her to the alley. I think I can tell what's going on here, and it's heinous enough to signify a predator.

I pull the vial and rag out of my pockets and douse the latter with the former's contents. I run up to the man, who's too preoccupied to notice me, and shove the rag onto his face.

He screams, the sound muffled by the cloth. He tries to pry me off, but I've clung to him like a komala clings to its log. The woman falls down with her own scream but doesn't stick around. She gets up and runs off. No 'thank you'? Okay.

In a few seconds, the man's movements grow sluggish, and they keep slowing down until he collapses. I let him go just in time not to tumble down with him. On the ground, he tries to scream again, but what comes out is just a groan. A few more seconds pass and he goes fully limp, unmoving.

I take a closer look at the man. He is no jackpot. No sign of musculature, a bit chubby, ugly stubble, messy hair. But he looks to be under thirty, so he's viable.

Okay. Now to prepare the circle. I pocket the vial and rag and pull out a piece of chalk in their stead, beginning to draw on the street. My heart beats in my ears the entire time I spend drawing the two-meter-wide circle and its details. Finally, I'm finished and I drag the man into the center. I draw the activating line and the outlines of the circle light up. The light creeps over the form of the unconscious man and engulfs him. Then, it all flashes, and the man is gone.

A sense of triumph grows in my chest. I did it. I captured a Bringer candidate.

But I’m not quite done here yet. I take off my backpack and kneel on the ground. I dig out a sponge and a bottle of water. I open the bottle and pour some of its contents onto the sponge, then take the sponge to the chalk outlines of the circle and begin to scrub. It takes a few minutes, but luckily, no one walks by. I manage to erase the circle well enough to keep the existence of this kind of magic a secret.

Now, I need to hurry back home before that man has a chance to wake up…

---​

I’m relieved to find the man still unconscious on the floor of my secret room. Immediately, I take some rope and tie his wrists and ankles together to neutralize him. Then I take my chair and move it in front of the altar, facing the cloth-covered fossil. I fetch the man and drag his body over to the chair and, with great effort, position him upright to a sitting position. I tie a rope around him and the back of the chair so that he’ll stay there. Now that I’m spending more time close to him, I can smell booze and cigarette smoke. Not ideal at all… but this was just the first criminal I met.

Alright. He’s tied up and fastened. Now all that’s left is to wait for him to wake up.

I walk over to the cupboards and dig out my homemade Helixian textbook. This thing’s actually gonna see some use now… provided HE won’t just beam everything necessary into the candidate’s brain. HE is much more powerful now than HE was when HE first spoke to me… though HE might still prefer not to spend HIS energy so lightly now that ascension is fast approaching.

I open the book and review what I have. It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself - at least for someone with no pedagogical education. I wish I knew how to draw so I could have some illustrations. Just text is pretty dense to read.

“Ngh…”

I become alert. I look at my abductee and see his head beginning to move. He’s still groggy. I walk over to him with a widening smirk. The show’s about to begin.

His breathing is heavy. It doesn’t get any lighter as he gradually comes to and what I imagine is fear takes over.

“What th...” he starts, looking around. “What the fuck? What is this…”

My smirk evolves into a grin. He tugs at the ropes tying him down, but it helps nothing. His stare eventually focuses on me.

“Who are you?” he asks me.

“Well, if things go well, I’ll be your mentor,” I tell him, hands clasped behind my back. “Anyway, welcome to my basement. You’re about to see something great.”

“What?”

I walk over to the fossil. Oh, my heart is pounding. I’ll get to see HIM work HIS magic in real time on the brain of this pitiful scumbag.

“I want to introduce you to my god, the Lord of Predators,” I tell him, grabbing the edge of the cloth obscuring the fossil. “Now, open your mind.”

I pull the cloth off.

The man stares at the fossil. His eyes widen. They widen some more. I’ve never seen a person with eyes that wide. Is it that glorious?

He begins to scream. Well, now. I know HE can be terrifying, but isn’t that a bit --

A cut opens across his forehead, quickly leaking blood. Another opens across his cheek. One slashes through his jacket, then another, then more and more. Red lines form one after another on his face and his hands. They seem to be deepening with each second, spouting more and more blood. There’s scarcely a dry spot on the man’s mutilated face now. He’s still screaming. He’s still screaming. He’s still --

He stops.

Like a paused recording, he stops.

Then, he falls limp.

Desperate for an explanation, I turn to the fossil --

WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT ME THIS FOOL?

I collapse to my knees. HIS thoughts are loud. It hurts.

DO YOU WISH TO INSULT ME?

“N-no…” I get out, but it’s difficult. Everything is heavy. Everything twists, coils. I grab my head, but it does nothing to help.

I WANTED YOU TO BRING ME A PROMISING CANDIDATE, NOT A STREET RATTATA STEWED IN SPIRITS AND SMOKE.

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry --”

YOU SHOULD BE. THIS IS THE MOST DISAPPOINTED I HAVE BEEN IN YOU YET.

Disappointed? No…

DO NOT MAKE THIS MISTAKE AGAIN, HE booms, even louder than before. THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, I WANT TO FIND A PROUD PREDATOR BOWING BEFORE ME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

“Yes, I understand!” I whine, although I know I would have said that to anything just to make the yelling stop.

GOOD. UNTIL WE MEET NEXT TIME, MORTAL.

HE called me ‘mortal’. Just like in that nightmare.

Suddenly, everything lets go. I can hear myself breathe again, and I’m breathing heavily. The corners of my vision are black and stars twinkle all around. I feel like throwing up, but thankfully, I don’t.

I sit up. My surroundings are static again, not in flux, but my head still spins. I count upwards to pass the time I need to recover. At sixty-three, I feel sufficiently normal again.

Alright. So.

HE did not like what I brought HIM. HE thinks I should have brought HIM someone better. That’s fair. The guy was just somebody I’d picked up off the street. He did smell like booze and smoke. He was, objectively, a terrible pick. HE was right to reprimand me.

I look at the man, or what’s left of him. His face is unrecognizable, cut up into skin salad. His blood is dripping onto the floor. I suppose I’ll have to clean that up. I’ll have to clean everything up, including the body. I’ll have to chop it into pieces and smuggle it out of the house without arousing suspicion. It’s alright. I’ve done it before.

It’s alright…

No, no. It’s not alright.

None of this is alright.

My only plan failed.

I have no way left to procure a candidate.

I have six months, but no plan. I have nothing.

Six months are going to pass by, and HE will demand to be returned to HIS cave. I will bring HIM there and leave HIM. And then… then I don't know what will happen. HE might find someone else to be HIS Bringer during my lifetime or HE might not. Either way, I'm going to die, either of old age or some other reason. My body will break down. I will feel myself slip away. I am going to die. I am going to --

My breathing is wheezing now. My entire body is shaking. I am going to die. I will experience nothingness -- I am going to die.

I feel a pain in the back of my head. Something is wrong there. Something is wrong with my brain. I’m having a stroke. I’m having something. Something that’s going to kill me right here and right now. Oh Gods. Oh Gods, oh Gods. Is there no way out of this? Is this how it ends? Is this how my pathetic life will end?

My lungs burn. A sob comes. Tears. I’m crying. I’m crying because I’m going to die. I’m crying because there is no comfort. There is only the cruel fact that my life is over and that nothingness is right around the corner.

The pain gets worse. It’s coming. No, I’m not ready! I will never be ready! No one can be ready to die!

I collapse against the floor and grab my shins. Something tells me that if I make myself as small as possible, I'll be safer. Of course it's wrong. But this is slightly more comfortable than I was before, and if I'm gonna die, I want to enjoy what I have left as best as I can.

I’m gonna die. I’m really gonna die. I’m gonna…

Am I?

Yes, surely. This pain in my head will kill me.

…No, that doesn’t seem right.

How can you say that? Are you in such denial?

…No. I don’t… I don’t think this makes sense.

That’s what you’d like to think. You’re clinging on to anything that would let you survive. But it doesn’t change the fact that…

No, it’s not a fact. It’s speculation. Groundless.

But what if it’s still true?

Now you’re being paranoid.

My crying stops. My breathing still wheezes, though. I’m confused. Am I dying or am I not dying?

Four-seven-eight.

…Four-seven-eight. Four while inhaling, seven while holding your breath, eight while exhaling.

That’s what the therapist taught me. That’s what she said could help calm me down.

I have to try it.

Four in. That’s easy. Seven, holding breath. Okay, that’s not so easy. I feel like I’m choking. Come on, five, six, seven, there. I let my breath out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. I have nothing left in my lungs. I gasp in again. Two, three, four. I gotta hold my breath again? Fine…

I repeat the exercise. Again. Again. The pain… the pain in my head is leaving. And I’m no longer wheezing. I still feel like shit and my heart is pounding in my ears, but I feel… at least a little better.

I let myself breathe normally. It’s still fast, but it’s not hyperventilating. I realize I haven’t sobbed since I began. I guess I’m not… scared anymore. I’m anxious, but I know my fear was unreasonable.

What was I afraid of?

Dying. Dying because of a random pain in my head. That’s stupid. It was probably just some aftermath of meeting HIM. No stroke, nothing like that. Can strokes even be felt in the head? Brains have no sense of touch, right?

But I was also scared of dying later. That I couldn’t bring HIM a Bringer now that HE rejected my plan. But… six months. I have six months. That’s a long time, isn’t it?

Yeah. That is a long time. It's only been, like, a week and I've already tried and failed with two plans. I can come up with something new in that time.

But will I find the Bringer in time?

My breathing quickens again. No, no. Stay calm. Don’t give in to panic. Just… breathe. Breathe. My breathing gradually slows down. My muscles begin to relax. I realize I can move again.

I unfurl from my position and sit up. I sniffle. I catch a whiff of blood. I look over to the corpse. The blood it leaks has now formed little pools at his feet. I'm gonna need to mop that. But first, I need to dismember this guy and stuff him inside some garbage bags.

I think I should start doing that now.

I get up slowly, making sure I don’t get dizzy, and slowly walk over to the room’s table. I undress myself down to my underwear and place my clothes on the chair. I then fetch my raincoat and rubber boots from the edge of the room. I open a drawer and pull out two rubber gloves and put them on.

Next, I go fetch my axe and a bloodstained plank of wood and set them down in the middle of the floor. I go untie the ropes fastening the corpse to the chair and let it fall. I untie its ankles and wrists and put away the rope. I fetch some garbage bags and put them on the table for later. Then, I position the corpse so that its neck rests against the plank and begin to chop. Blood flies as I make my way through the skin, muscle and spine. This is all more familiar to me again. This is how I get rid of the bodies of all my victims. I've never killed a man before, though… no, I didn't do it now, either. HE killed him.

Something about this act is calming to me in the same way picking up trash is. I guess I like labor.

I successfully detach the head and then move on to the limbs. With those done, I stuff the pieces of the man into the garbage bags. But it'll have to wait until tomorrow before I get rid of the bags. It's too dark in the woods to draw the disintegration circle, even if it would be the perfect time otherwise.

I open the door to the room and fetch the mop from the bathroom. It takes me some time to clean up all the blood left behind by the corpse, both from HIS cuts and my chopping, but the room reaches a sufficiently clean state and I'm able to stop. I rinse off my raincoat, boots and gloves and undress from them. I consider putting my regular clothes back on, but I figure I'm going to bed anyway and just grab them and leave the room. I close the door behind me and hide the key as always.

I make my way to the second floor, stopping on the way to do my evening chores, and enter my room. I slip under the blanket and lie motionless.

Okay. What I experienced down there after meeting HIM was certainly… worrying. It was about as bad as the time I thought I'd failed HIM by succumbing to fear when facing the spider-sea illusion back when Joanna was possessing me, but this time, there was no one in my head but me.

I… really should talk to someone about this.

But I can't. The therapist wouldn't understand. She would try to get me to accept my death and tell me that it isn't so bad when I know it is. A primordial god told me so, and HE surely knows better than some mortal.

I sigh. I guess I'm alone with this.

But I'm used to that, aren't I?

I close my eyes.

It feels like I should still think about things, but I’m tired. I can think about them tomorrow. I’ll probably have a clearer head then, anyway.

I take a deep breath and relax. Slowly, sleep creeps towards me. I let it come over and take me like a raikou cub picked up by its mother. No more thoughts circling my head, I sink into slumber.

---​
 
Interlude

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
Hi! Time for the (first?) interlude. Rated mature for sexual references. Enjoy!

---

INTERLUDE

Andre


---​

“And model, please.”

Sakura raises her gaze from her phone and resumes her pose, valiantly staring out the window. Once again, I can perceive a twinge of orange annoyance among the gray of boredom, but she’s too polite to let it show any other way.

I focus on her pixie cut and draw some new lines to shape her hairstyle better. I sculpt away the incorrect ones with an eraser. There, that looks better.

“How much longer?” she asks.

“Oh, we’re only getting started,” I tell her. More annoyance radiates from her.

“I’ve seen you draw much faster than this.”

“Ah, but that was sloppy,” I tell her. “This is a commission. I’m going to do my best.”

She sighs. “Modeling sounded fun, but now I’m thinking I should just give you a photo.”

I shrug. “You can, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be as good. I draw better when I see in 3D.”

A cheerful tune splits the air, accompanied by vibration. I recognize my calendar reminder sound immediately. But what is…

Oh, right.

“Let me get that,” I say, placing down my pencil and picking up my phone. I sigh as the notification shows itself.

May 25th, 17:00
Acrylics


It’s been approaching me these past few weeks like an entei. The end of the four-month period. The time I have to start searching again.

“What is it?” Sakura asks.

“Nothing, just… a reminder to buy more art supplies,” I lie. She’s looking at her phone again. I frown. “Model, please.”

She rolls her eyes and gets up off the bed. “This sucks. I’ll just give you a photo.”

I raise a palm, and she stops. “While we’re here, I’ll take it. I’ll get the lighting I want.”

She sits back down and resumes her pose. “Whatever you say.”

I unlock my phone and open the camera. I take a photo, and another, and another. Can’t ever have too many references.

“Done?” she asks.

“Done,” I say, lowering my phone.

“Great,” she says.

She suddenly gives me an expectant look, and magenta arousal flares around her. What’s she thinking about --

“Wanna have sex now?”

I should have seen it coming, but I burst into laughter. “Really? Just like that?”

She gets off the bed. “Yeah. I’m decently horny.” The strengthening magenta glow around her supports her words.

“You’re always horny,” I tease.

She walks up to me and puts her arms around my neck. “Exactly,” she whispers, her breath warm. I can feel my hairs rising on end.

She lets go and heads for the door. “Coming?”

“Well, not yet,” I say, locking eyes with her.

After two seconds, she snorts, some golden amusement flickering. “Fucking dad joke.”

“‘Daddy’ joke.”

She laughs, leaning in to give me a shove before walking out of my studio room. “Whatever! Just get your ass into the bedroom.”

“Will do,” I say, smiling. I’m about to pocket my phone when I pause, staring at it.

I sigh through my nose, slip the phone into my pocket and follow Sakura to the bedroom.

---​
 
Chapter Six - Idea

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
And we're back to the regular chapters! This properly starts the second arc of the story. Content warning for discussion of sexuality, references to sexual assault and homophobia. Rated mature. Enjoy!

---

CHAPTER SIX
Idea

Red


---​

May 25th, 149

There’s good and bad news. The good news is that I managed to abduct a Bringer candidate yesterday night. The bad news is that HE violently rejected him. HE was really quite furious with me for having brought HIM such a subpar individual, and HE let me hear it. I took it poorly, but I’ve since gotten better, and now I believe I’m ready to begin formulating a new plan to procure candidates.

Unfortunately, I haven’t the slightest clue what that plan would be. After school, where I had the opportunity to get to know my candidates, and the nightly streets, where I could witness predatorship in action, I have nothing in mind that would supply me with worthy candidates.

I have to stay positive, though. I’m sure there has to be something I’m missing. And I won’t be out of things to do until I do discover that something - yesterday reminded me that I still have things I would like to add to the Helixian textbook and that the book will most likely prove quite useful as a teaching tool. I am going to spend more time writing and thinking of new additions to the material. I cannot lie, I am rather excited about this.

I will likely not write in this journal until I have come up with a new plan. That may take weeks, so do not be surprised to see a large gap between the timestamps of entries. Until next time.

Red Akai, High Priest


‘Until next time.’ I’m starting to treat this journal like a TV show…

---​

Over the next couple of days, I thought harder about my approach to seeking candidates. I recognized that I was possibly putting too much focus on quality over quantity, my two plans leaning on finding people with clear potential right away. The other approach that I hadn't given much worth before was to simply try and meet people, any kind of people, and only then sift out the suitable candidates.

Of course, I was kind of out of places to meet people with schools out of the question, and the only option left I could think was bruteforcing, or in other words, going out and talking to people without a cause. I'd done it before when I was honing my socializing skills after killing Joanna - or thinking I killed her when she actually hid away in my mind - so I knew it was possible.

So I took some time out of my days to wander around the city and strike up conversations with people my age. Unfortunately, I got a lot of awkwardness and a few 'fuck off's, and most of them didn't really open up to me, finding an excuse to leave pretty soon after the conversation was started. People my age really aren't talkers, especially the men. It was easier when I approached older people and women last time… but they're too old or too female to be Bringers, so they're out of the game.

I did manage to have a longer conversation with one young man, but he seemed all too cheerful and full of life. I got the feeling that asking him to join a cult would just result in an answer of 'no thanks, I'm happy where I am'. So I didn't give him any contact information - mine would be Abe's, anyway, something that I started thinking about more at home - and we went our separate ways.

On the second day, I went to Abe and asked him something I'd been meaning to ask for a longer time - if they still sold those old button phones that I had no problem using. Apparently they did, and it led to him helping me buy one and set up all the practical matters. I felt like a total fossil, not understanding what was being talked about, but I was ultimately used to it. A phobia of screens does and a solitary lifestyle does lock you into the past. But I like the past - hell, I've devoted my life to the ideals of a civilization from 4,000 years ago - so that's fine.

And speaking of, I've also managed to add some material to the Helixian textbook - some more history, to be precise. What a bitel is and who the most famous ones were. I hope whoever I get is a history buff so all this doesn't horribly bore them.

On Tuesday, after some jackass had made it clear he didn't want to talk to me and that I was a lot of slurs for initiating conversation, I was feeling a bit discouraged. It seemed like I could keep bruteforcing for all my six months and find nothing. It must have shown outwardly, because Fonz saw me on the living room couch and asked me if I was alright. I told him I was. Then I asked how He had been, and apparently He'd been well. That was enough to put a smile on my face - temporarily.

That pensive mood kept up for the rest of the day and followed into Wednesday, which is today. Even this bus trip I've mostly spent thinking about alternate conversation topics I could use to gauge people's fittingness to be a candidate. Views on hunting were an obvious one, but views on refugees was something I surprised myself with. After all, a predator doesn't believe in charity, and neither does he concern himself with what other people think is politically correct.

The bus stops in front of the community center and I get off. I make my way inside and to room 6B. I'm just in time, like always.

Soon enough, Malaya arrives and greets us all. "Hello everyone! And happy Enamorus Day."

Enamorus Day? Oh wow, I'd totally forgotten.

"So, in honor of Enamorus Day," Malaya begins, "I was thinking we could focus a little on all things romantic this week. Does that sound good to you all?"

Everybody nods. I nod with them.

"But before we do that," she says, "I should mention that this is the final meetup that Kaito will be part of! After today, he'll only have four days of community service before his sentence is cleared. How do you feel, Kaito?"

Kaito grins in his usual lethargic way. "Pretty good, pretty good. Tired, but that's the meds." Oh, so that's why he's like that. That hadn't occurred to me.

"What would you say you have learned during your time here?"

"Well, I'm not one for speeches, but I think…"

He says some shit about starting to accept what happened and understanding that it wasn't his fault. I don't really pay attention. Then we clap for him. Sure. Then we actually move on to the romance theme of the meetup, and Kristoff goes first. He talks about his girlfriend and how supportive she's been and how he doesn't deserve her. Whatever.

But it does make me wonder what it would be like for me to have a boyfriend. That's something I've never had because no one knows I'm gay - no one but HIM, who can just straight up see into my mind - and Bringerhood required me to be celibate… but I'm no longer going to be the Bringer. And the celibacy for the position of high priest was just kind of a suggestion, too. Shouldn't I be free to date?

Yeah, I should be. But I haven't felt the need. Why would I, after all, when I haven't even found any real friends? It's a one in a million chance for me to find a likeminded person, and even unlikelier that I'll find someone who fancies me back.

That's not to say it'd be impossible for me to get a boyfriend. I can just fake liking them back like I do with everyone. Though I don't really know why I would. For sex? Well… I don't think I've wanted to have sex in a long while. Most lustful energy I have is concentrated on wanting to kill and devour human flesh. Of course, I am still aroused by certain thoughts, like of Kohath and… some of HIS other forms, but am I really even horny enough to get it up when I need to?

"How about… Red?" Malaya says.

"Huh?"

"Do you want to go next?"

"Oh, sure, I guess." I clear my throat and sit up straight. "I don't have any significant other. I've never had any because I've never really wanted any or thought it would be possible. I mean… I have no friends, even. A partner seems entirely out of my grasp." I'm leaving it ambiguous what my orientation is. I'm still not quite over all the slurs thrown my way in school even if those were pure groundless speculation.

"But imagine that you did find someone you liked," Jamal said. "Would you feel differently then?"

I grab my chin. Someone I liked… well, he'd have to be a predator. And strong. And handsome. And confident. Like a Helixian. I'd really respect him. I'd want him to like me. I think I'd want him to hold me, to be close to me.

Well, there's that arousal I was missing.

"I guess," I answer, "but it's like I said. I don't think I'll ever meet a guy like that, so it's pointless to look."

Suki flinches. "Wait, you're gay?"

What? What did I say? Oh -- 'guy'. Fucking grand, Akai, now they know what you are!

"Oh, no, no, it's not a problem," Suki rushes to say, apparently having seen my reaction. She nails her gaze to the floor. "I just didn't know. But I also shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"I -- It's alright," I get out. Is it? I didn't want her to jump on me like that. But I suppose we're technically friends or something, so I have to be nice. "I just… try not to tell people."

"That's understandable," Malaya says, "with all the prejudice. But you're accepted here, just as you are."

I wouldn't be if you all met the real me, but… maybe they are okay with gays here. Maybe it is fine that they know… as long as they don't blab. "Alright," I say. "But… don't go around telling people, okay?"

"We won't," Malaya says. "If someone does, they'll have to answer to me."

Wow. Support. Where were these kinds of adults when I was at school?

"Would you like to talk more about this, or would you like to move on?" she asks.

"...Move on, please."

"Alright. Who's next? Suki?"

"Um… sure," Suki says, then sighs. "Well, I have no boyfriend, and I don't know how I'd go about getting one. I have no friends because I'm socially anxious and probably autistic, so the chances of finding a boyfriend seem pretty nonexistent."

"But would you like to have a boyfriend?"

"I would," she says. "I mean, I've had crushes. None of them have ever led to anything, but the fact that I've dreamt about relationships and even marriage clearly means I must want it."

Her shoulders slump. "But, like I said, I have no chance of bagging anyone. I could go out into bars and try it, but I'd probably just scare people away… or get targeted by some sexual predator."

Wait.

Hold on.

"It may be smart to stay away from bars if you're alone and not too confident," says Malaya. "You're right in that."

Sexual predator. Of course. Why didn't I think of it before? It combines my two previous plans in an all-new way - hanging around someone and watching them commit a crime. I could go to a bar and search for date rapists!

And searching for regular people could work, too. A date forces people to spend time with me, so I'll have time to gauge them and possibly find someone suitable for Bringerhood.

Of course, if I'm going out on dates, I should be prepared to have sex… and I need to figure out how people signal to one another which role they prefer to take. I'm not going to receive from anyone less than a Helixian, fuck that. Even if their size would probably make me seriously sore. It would be worth it, though, I'm sure.

Maybe if I tell the person I'm going out with that I'm new, they'll show me the ropes. I am only eighteen, after all.

Yes, this is the new plan I've been hoping for. This is how I'll find the Bringer.

I return to the present. Now Kaito's talking. He had a girlfriend but broke up with her, apparently. Well, I'm glad Suki and I aren't the only ones single.

The group meeting goes on, and I think up details to my plan…

---​

Picking up trash went about the same as it did the previous two times, with the difference of my not talking to Samson this time around. I still had nothing to say to him after what he did last time, and he thankfully didn't butt in to try and apologize again.

Two things were on my mind when I returned home - I needed to find a gay bar either in Pallet or Viridian, and I needed to make sure I could… perform despite my lacking libido. Since no one seemed to be home - I vaguely recall both Abe and Fonz mentioning something they had today - I decided to focus on the latter first.

It's been months since I last jacked off. Possibly years, I'm not sure. In any case, I did my routine, and to my annoyance, it did not work. I think it's because I simply did not have the arousal to start it with. Well, I tried to think of other things - instead of just the standard Helixian concubine fantasy, I thought of someone I would dominate. Graceful form, lean body, a little muscular, hairless, flowing hair, just made to be manhandled --

Okay, why am I getting so flustered thinking about these things? As a Helixian, I shouldn't be ashamed of my sexuality.

Anyway… I also tried some fantasies of HIS forms, and to my shame, those kind of worked. I'd rather not rely on them, though, as they feel… sacrilegious. Even if I know HE has historically approved that kind of behavior, if the works of Mad Poet Kalev are anything to go by. 'If only I was a parasite in YOUR intestines.' Sure.

Something unproblematic I managed to get heated to was replaying that dream in my mind where I transformed into a skinless version of the beast. I removed Michi, of course, and replaced her with some random woman who resembled my victims. I played the fantasy further and found myself tearing apart and eating that woman, and the little Red downstairs - well, not little, it's average-sized - really seemed to like that.

Still, it wasn't like the performance was perfect. That's why I left for Thompson's Natural Remedies. I did not enjoy telling that rattata of a man that I was looking for an aphrodisiac, but I got over myself and asked for what I needed. He gave me some salazzle pheromones, ridiculously overpriced, of course, and I headed home to test them out. Unfortunately, I was stupid and didn't listen to Thompson's instructions, instead huffing it like a junkie huffing glue because I didn't think it would work, which led to some unwelcome results. To sum up, I ended up being dangerously horny for two hours. It sounds like a fun time, but it really wasn't. I was restless and shaking and pacing around all the while I was hard as steel. I tried to jack off, but I couldn't finish. I had to lock myself in my room as the others arrived home to avoid accidentally giving my lord an unsolicited lesson in mammalian anatomy.

In the end, I decided to bring a vial of the pheromones - responsibly diluted - with me to a date whenever I would go on one. I could always simply choose not to use it.

Now with others home, though, I can finally ask Abe to help me with that gay bar thing. I just… hope that he'll be supportive. He probably will, since he wouldn't dare begin to mock me, but… still.

I wait ten extra minutes just to be sure that the effects of the pheromones are over before going downstairs. I'm greeted like I usually am, and I greet back.

Abe is at the kitchen table, browsing his phone. I sit next to him and look around. It seems that Fonz and my lord aren't present. Must be out on a walk or in the bathroom. Good - this way I don't have to whisper.

"Listen," I start, "I gotta ask you a favor."

"Sure," he says, raising his gaze from his phone. "What is it?"

I take a deep breath. Here goes. "I need you to find me the nearest gay bar."

He freezes, expression befuddled. "Gay… bar?"

"Yeah, a gay bar." Come on, don't be weird about it.

He shrinks in apprehension. "You're not planning on committing a hate crime, are you?"

"What? No. I wanna find someone." Hate crime. Really? You think that little of me?

"Oh," he says. He pauses. "So… you're gay?"

"Yeah."

He's silent with a strange look on his face. My heart starts beating faster. But why does it even do that? What the fuck does it matter if Abe doesn't like the fact that I'm gay? He's worthless. A mareep. A real predator wouldn't have a problem with homosexuality. A real predator understands that it doesn't matter whether you like dick or pussy or both. The rate of homosexuality is low enough for it not to be a problem that they can't procrea-

"Congratulations?" Abe suddenly says.

I frown in confusion. "What?"

"I mean… I don't know. I don't know what you're supposed to say to that," Abe says. "I'm sorry. I-I don't have anything against this or anything, I just literally don't know what the thing I'm supposed to say is."

I'm quiet for a bit. I'm not actually sure what he should have said, either. 'That's cool'?

"I wanna support you," Abe quickly adds. "I do support you. I just… didn't expect that."

"Well…" I slowly start. "What if we just move on from this and you help me find that bar?"

"That works," Abe says. "Uh, let's see…"

He returns to his phone and starts tapping. My eyes start to wander around the room. Fonz and my lord are still away. Good. I don't want my lord to know what I am. He might tell someone at his school and get targeted.

"There's one in South Viridian," Abe says. "Antlerlock. Wanna see some pictures?"

"Sure."

He shows me the phone, and while I flinch at the screen, I manage to keep my anxiety in check for the duration of checking out the images. The front of the building has a sign with two sawsbuck locking antlers and looking at each other amorously.

"Looks good," I say. "Can you find out how to get there by bus?"

"Sure." He taps some more. A minute later, he shows me the results on his bus app. I fetch a sticky note and write the directions down on it before folding it into my pocket.

"Thanks," I say.

"Anytime," he says, now smiling. "I hope you, uh, get lucky."

“Y-yeah.”

Next, I head to the bedroom of Fonz and my lord, which used to be my parents’ before one of them decided she’d rather live at a friend’s than spend any time around her son. The other one is probably dead. I find myself a clean shirt and some nice jeans and try them on. Just like before, they fit perfectly. Good. I change back into my regular clothes and carry the clean ones upstairs to wait for my first excursion to the bar.

Alright. I’m all set for Friday night - the time I’ve decided I’ll go out. A bar should be packed on a Friday night, and that means a better likelihood of attempted druggings. Until then… I guess I’ll work on the textbook or something.

Oh, right. I should make a journal entry…

---​

May 29th, 149

I have great news. I have devised a plan.

Starting this Friday night, I will be going into a gay bar to try and spot sexual predators. Their actions speak to their lack of morals and their willingness to hurt others for personal gain, which are both qualities that suit a Bringer well. I will also try again what I tried at the high school and attempt to find individuals that could be willing to convert to Helixism through conversation. I imagine I’ll find fewer people who are insecure at a place you can only go if you’re alright with the world knowing your marginalized identity, but it cannot hurt to try.

I will return to write my next journal entry on Saturday, writing down however my first night went. It might not be in the morning, however - there’s a chance I’ll be waking up in someone else’s apartment.

Red Akai, High Priest


---​

Friday came all too slowly. It left me with plenty of time to worry about how I’ll do at the bar and with whoever I may be leaving with. I’ve gotten alright at casual conversation, sure, but now I’m going to be in a situation where I’ll possibly get thrown out if I’m not properly entertaining. And, well…

Red Akai, as far as people are allowed to know him, is boring. He has no hobbies besides working out, watching TV and doing crosswords, and he can’t go online to watch the content everyone else is watching. He doesn’t go to school or work. He could be interesting if he talked about his Twitch days, but those are too painful for him. His opinions are absolutely milquetoast on account of the fact that if he gave his real opinions, he’d be carted off to jail or perhaps a mental institution. What the hell do I have to offer to anyone?

I sigh. Maybe it’s fine. I do still look good, after all, and a lot of the people there are probably only there to meet someone to fuck anyway. I just have to sit there and look pretty and not let them know that I like killing women in my basement and taking their tongues as trophies.

The door to Sonya Belova’s room opens, and the woman calls me in. She asks me how I’ve been and what I’d like to talk about, and I hesitantly bring up the gay bar. She thinks it’s a wonderful idea for me to meet new people, but reminds me to be careful and stay safe. Yeah, as if I’d ever let myself be taken advantage of.

She goes on to ask me how I feel about being gay, and I tell her that while I'm apprehensive about sharing that with people, I have no problems with it myself. In fact, I could have told her that I was actually glad I was gay because it meant I didn’t need to have anything to do with women, but she was obviously the wrong gender to hear that remark. She asks me to tell her more about why I'm apprehensive, and I do.

"Kids at school were always looking for excuses to be shitty towards me," I say, "and it didn't matter if they had any proof. So, they called me gay and all the other nice words for it and made jokes about how much I like cock in my ass."

"Sorry to hear. Kids can be cruel."

"Well, I certainly was cruel as a kid. A lot of people would say I deserved what came my way."

"No one deserves to be humiliated or made to feel small."

I refrain from rolling my eyes. People always say this - 'No one deserves' this or that bad thing. But they don't really think that. No one is that pure, not even the most mareep of mareep. Really, I suppose it's a good thing that the prey aren't completely spineless. Or maybe not. Spinelessness would allow the predators to rule even more effectively.

Sonya leans in. “Can you tell me in more detail what kind of bullying you faced?”

I sigh again and elaborate on everything I had to deal with at school. The name-calling, the screen-flashing, the gossip, the fights. Getting in trouble for standing up for myself because the way I did it was to punch before they could punch me.

“They’re the reason I left,” I tell her. “I had to leave before I did something worse and got myself arrested.”

She nods. “It seems like you had some problems with anger.”

I grab my chin. Right, this was another thing I wanted to get help for. “I did. And I feel like I still would if I had to face them again. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course,” she says. “Remember what we did last time with your mother?”

“Yes?”

“Well, I wanna try something similar with your bullies. I want you to imagine a scenario where they’re teasing you. What do you do?”

---​

The rest of that session passed by similarly to the one last week, although it felt a lot harder to think calmly when faced with such obnoxious people, even if they were only in my head. Still, I felt like I could start thinking more clearly about it. I didn’t think it would actually help me with the people I would encounter as I’d probably still try to solve things with my fists, but at least I wouldn’t be completely blinded by anger.

Therapy over with and one bus trip later, I arrived at the community center, but I didn’t see Suki. I asked about it and apparently she was sick that day. I found myself somewhat sad at that, but quickly reminded myself that whether or not she was present was irrelevant to me because she was a mareep. I would survive the pokémon shelter well without her.

And now I’m right outside, the car that brought me here leaving behind me. I enter the shelter and Shiho notices me from the counter.

“Hi, Red!” she greets. “I guess you must know about Suki already, huh.”

“Yeah,” I answer. “Shame. Does that mean I’ll be alone today?”

“No, actually,” she says. “Eric was kind enough to come in and cover for her today.” She turns around. “Eric, come over!”

A pale boy soon emerges from the back. Something about him immediately rubs me the wrong way. Must be his well-groomed blond hair, his neat clothes and his friendly smile - they paint a picture of an annoying goody-two-shoes. Like a little version of Samson, almost.

“Hi!” he says, walking over to me. “You must be who I’m working with today.” He offers a hand. “I’m Eric. What’s your name?”

“Red,” I answer, taking his hand and shaking it even if I feel like it’s far too formal for two volunteers working at a pokémon shelter.

“Well, nice to meet you, Red,” he says, that sickening smile still on his face. “Let’s head to the back and get ready to walk some mon, shall we?”

“Sure.”

We walk past the counter and enter the area with the cages. He begins to gather the mon to walk, and I stand by the side, waiting.

“So, what made you come and volunteer at this shelter?” he asks, attaching a leash to Cinder the vulpix, who still seems offended at this.

“Oh. Uh, actually, I’m here on community service.”

“Really?” He looks back at me, still crouching, seeming shocked. “What did you do?”

“Threatened to kill someone while possessed.”

He stares at me like I'd just put a knife to his throat.

"What?" I say. "The ghost's out of me now. I'm not gonna do anything."

Eric lets out a nervous laugh, standing up. "Well, that's good. Although…"

I sigh. "Although what?"

"Have you been blessed afterwards?"

"Blessed by… who, exactly?"

He tenses up further. "By a priest. Preferably Arcean."

Arcean? Oh, fucking fuck. He really is a little version of Samson.

"I dunno, maybe?" I say, shrugging. "An Arcean priest exorcised me. He probably blessed me afterwards."

"This priest wouldn't be… Mark Samson, would it?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"That man is a wraith sympathizer."

"Huh?" Like… someone who likes ghosts?

"Surely you know that wraiths are servants of the Violent One," he says. "One who dances with them, well, dances with the shadow-dragon herself."

Hm. If that's true, then Samson's pretty badass. But I have a feeling this guy is just a nutjob. Really, it never occurred to me before that Arceans could have infighting… but I suppose all religions do. Even Helixism had some straying sects that HE had to straighten out by force.

"...Alright," I say. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll go get a blessing from a real Arcean as soon as I can." I am most certainly not doing that, but it should get him to shut up.

He sighs in relief. "Okay. That's good. That's better, anyway…"

"Can we move on with the walking thing now?"

He glances at Cinder as if he'd forgotten the entire point of why we're here. "Yes. Certainly."

He comes out of the cage and, with my help, gathers up the rest of the mon. Sirius still isn't big on me, but for whatever reason, he isn't big on Eric, either. Yeah, you tell 'em, big guy.

We leave the building and begin our walk. Eric's been quiet for a while now. Hopefully, he'll keep that u-

"Can I ask you something?" he says, turning his face to me.

I sigh through my nose. "What is it?"

"What is your… religious affiliation?"

I think I know where this is going. All Arceans are the same in this regard. Still… some part of me wants to lean into this as a kind of challenge. I'm supposed to get better at tolerating obnoxious people, right? Let's see how much I can take.

"Family's got Ho-Oh as our patron god," I say, deciding to be honest, "but we're not very devout. Like, personally, I have a hard time seeing the Phoenix really caring about what I do. Especially since, you know, no one's seen her since the Burning."

"Hm. Alright," Eric says. "I do think that the Phoenix's importance has been exaggerated. She is holy, yes, but she is not a being to be worshipped. That glory is meant only for the Creator."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes!" he says, smiling. "The Creator is who we owe everything good in the world to. Clear skies, birdsong, the wind in the trees, need I go on?"

"Huh. Yeah, when you put it like that, I guess you're right." He really isn't. Not only was Arceus merely copying the previous world he lived in as a mortal, but he also recreated storms, parasites and diseases. Thanks for that, o Creator.

Regardless, Eric's smile widens. "Exactly! So, would you like to show your appreciation? Say a prayer with me?"

What? Oh, no, that's really going outside of my comfort zone. I shouldn't poke the beedrill's nest when I'm doing things the goat would really disagree with. "Uh, I'd prefer not to."

Eric looks vaguely angry for a moment, but then relents. "That's alright. But you know Arceus is always ready to receive you, right?"

"So I've heard."

"It's true! Arceus loves us all. If he wasn't so busy protecting us from the Violent One, he'd come down and cure all that ails us… but he still soothes and strengthens our hearts through his grace!"

Yeah, whatever you say. Of course, in reality, the goat is just sitting on his ass waiting for the Third Being to come back, appearing to people every few thousand years to get his attention fix. The one time he might have done something actual was the fall of the Helixian Kingdom, but HE doesn't even consider that too likely as the fall came from the neighboring kingdoms attacking instead of the very heavens themselves opening up and blasting the Palace to bits.

Although… I guess HE didn't have any knowledge about Giratina. She could be real, and Arceus could be holding her back from ravaging the world or something. Though Arceus would have to be pretty fucking stupid to create something that could rebel against him. Well, if he really is guarding the world, I should wish the goat luck. Can't have this planet be destroyed before the HE has a chance to ascend.

"Something on your mind?" Eric asks. Oh, right. I guess I got lost in thought.

"No, sorry, got distracted. Anyway, uhh, sounds great. I'll have to ask that Arcean priest for more info when I get myself blessed."

Eric nods, smiling again. He loves doing that, just like Samson. Only Samson is way less pushy with his goat business. But Eric hates ghosts, and I hate ghosts too. Oh, who cares. Who cares whether I'd rather have syphilis or gonorrhea.

The walk continues with Eric speaking up every now and then about how great Arceus is. I actually manage to take it well and keep him talking, feigning interest. The only thing I won't budge on is the prayer thing. I am not letting Eric call Arceus' attention on me when my heart must be blacker than a shedinja's back. While being smitten by the Creator Himself would be a cool way to die, it would still be a death.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. That's paranoid. Prayer probably doesn't actually do anything to reach Arceus' ears. If it did, Arceus would probably be on to me already - surely Samson has made me the subject of a prayer or two since we've met. No, it's more likely that the goat just isn't listening and all his followers are just falling for a placebo.

After the walk comes the rest of the shift, and there are no further surprises there. I make it through just like I made it through the walk and feel pretty satisfied with myself once I walk out the shelter doors. Yes, I am a predator. I am able to fool the mareep. I am able to restrain myself until the time is right to strike. I am worthy of immortality. I will achieve it.

That good mood stays with me through the bus ride home and shatters once I've entered my house.

I heard a whimper. His whimper.

I make my way to the living room as quickly as I can. He and Fonz are on the couch, the latter with his claws gently placed on the former, who has retreated into His shell almost completely.

"What is it?" I ask, shuffling between the couch and the table. "What's wrong?"

He emerges a little from His shell, just enough to see me and for me to see His sorrowful eyes. My heart is skewered. Who did this to Him?

"Bullies," He says, voice cracking. "They… tipped my wheelchair. And laughed."

Anger quickly ignites in my core and spreads to my head and limbs. My hands close into fists. "Who were they? I'll…"

"No, I don't wanna say," He says. "If you tell on them, they'll bully me harder."

I want to argue, but He's right. I've dealt with enough bullies of my own to know. Still…

He retreats into His shell. "Why are they so mean? I didn't do anything to them…"

"Some kids are just pathetic and want to pick on others to make themselves feel better," Fonz says, stroking His shell with his claws. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"What if they do it again? I'm helpless…"

I exchange a look with Fonz. He seems disheartened.

"Maybe you should try to pair up with someone else in your class," he says. "Safety in numbers and all."

"Like Lily?"

"Yeah, like Lily."

He sighs. "I guess I can try that."

I sit down on the table and try to think of some advice of my own, but I can't. Maybe words of encouragement? Fonz is right, those bullies are just pathetic, picking on the weak --

But isn't that exactly what predators are supposed to do?

I freeze. But that's right. Those bullies are the predators here, and my lord is the prey. There is nothing wrong with this situation as far as Helixism goes.

But --

But wouldn't that mean that the people who bullied me were also predators? And that I was the prey?

…No. HE took my side, so it couldn't have been that way. I was always a predator. I was always strong. It was them who were weak, relying on social power instead of physical. Looking for approval from their peers. That's mareep behavior. They were prey oppressing a predator, which is what society at large is.

But what about Him? He isn't strong. He isn't amoral. He's just a kid in a wheelchair. Does that mean He deserves to get bullied?

My gut is twisting. I don't like this at all. I don't like to see Him in pain, and I certainly don't like thinking that it's justified. I gotta get away from here. But not before saying something. I think of something neutral and obvious and let it fly.

"Well, my lord, whatever the case, know that we both love you." I get up. "Excuse me."

I make my way to my room upstairs. The shirt and jacket I picked out for my planned gay bar escapade still await on the desk. Fuck. I'm still supposed to go there tonight. I'm still supposed to be able to focus on finding a Bringer after this…

I sigh and drop down onto my bed. The room is silent, but my mind certainly isn't, doubts circling me like sharks.

I'm not gonna be able to rest much before I have to leave again, am I.

---​

Upon further consideration, I came to the conclusion that the bullies bullying my lord were wrong on account of Helixian law. A Helixian - equivalent to predator - shall not steal or harm another Helixian's property unless another law specifically allows it. Property for Helixians includes their children, and He is essentially my child in practice. Bullying is doing mental harm, and therefore the bullies are breaking Helixian law, which means going against the will of HELIX, and that's quite bad.

Then again, the bullies didn't know that He belonged to a predator. They don't even know they're predators themselves, unfamiliar with the Helixian worldview. So that puts me back at square one, doesn't it?

Well, at least it gives me a justification for being pissed. My property has been damaged, and now I have to try and fix it. Well, Fonz and I. Probably just Fonz. I'm not good at comforting due to my lack of connection to other people, which is a good thing for a predator, don't get me wrong, but it's posed problems for my relationship with Him on quite a few occasions.

In any case, it's about time I stopped thinking about this. The bus stop I need to get off at is approaching.

I press the stop button and the chime rings out. In about a minute's time, I step off the bus and head to my destination, which isn't far. Soon enough, I find myself standing in front of Antlerlock with its sign depicting gay sawsbuck and all.

I take a deep breath in and let it out. I tap my back pocket and feel the shape of the little plastic vial I've put the salazzle pheromones in. Good, that’s still there.

I straighten my jacket, grab the door and pull it open. Here we go.

---​
 
Chapter Seven - The Stag

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
Hi again! This time, we've got the chapter where Red and Andre first meet. The old version of this had a pretty rough scene, which I think I've replaced with a better one here.

Content warning for references to sexual assault, transphobia (mostly transmisogyny), misogyny and violence.

---

CHAPTER SEVEN
The Stag

---​

I step inside and take in the view. Everything… is wooden.

I mean, I guess that makes sense, sawsbuck and all, but I kind of expected this place to be… sleazier? Is this really a gay bar?

Of course it is. There was a rainbow flag outside, those sawsbuck were most definitely fucking, and all the pairs I see talking in this bar are fully male. I’m in the right place. It’s just that TV lies.

I take a deep breath - smelling alcohol, wood and someone’s cologne - and walk further in. Some pop rock is playing over the radio, weaving in with the sounds of lively conversation. This place is packed. I think I underestimated the amount of people that would be here on a Friday night. This might turn out to be a problem - I’ll have to keep an eye on a lot of pairs to find the predator.

I should get a drink, or I’ll look suspicious. Hmm… the counter is full, but those two gentlemen seem like they’re going to leave soon - and they’re leaving. Perfect.

I slide up to the counter, and the bartender - one big motherfucker - comes to me.

“Can I see some ID?” he asks.

I show him my ID. He nods. “So, what are you having?”

“Well, what do you recommend for a beginner?”

“A beer.” He doesn’t miss a beat.

Ah. Right. Figures. “Then I’ll take one.”

He steps away to fill a glass, then returns it to me. I pay for it and thank him.

Alright. I better find a better vantage point to scout for ongoing crimes. I take my glass of beer and step away from the counter. I wander around a little before settling on a corner near the stage with a good view of a bunch of tables. I start to watch them, waiting for the moment any of the men would turn around or leave, giving a predator the opportunity to slip something in their drink.

I take a sip of my beer -- this kind of sucks. But, well, I guess it’s drinkable. And I am somewhat thirsty.

I resume watching the other men, and while I do fine in that for about thirty seconds, on the thirty-first, thoughts of Him and His problem with bullies return. As soon as His whimpers echo in my mind, that twisting feeling is back…

Gods. Is this really what mareep have to deal with every time someone close to them is hurting? What a horrible design flaw. A creature should not feel pain just because some other one does, even if it's social. It should be able to make its decisions based on rational thinking, using the best strategies for the survival, wellbeing and evolution of its species. Like a Helixian.

…Does that mean I'm not a Helixian?

No. I must be a Helixian. I have devoted my everything to HIM. I have learned their language, I have pored over every single one of their surviving documents. I've fucking jacked off to HIM! Does that not show how dedicated I am?

I'm about to go on when someone suddenly swoops in front of me from behind, startling me. They're… what? What the hell are they? A man in a dress or a masculine woman? Well, I think that's a wig, and -- yeah, that throat settles it.

"Heyyy!" the guy says, his painted lips pulling back to flash his white teeth. His wig is blonde, long and wavy. It doesn't match his eyebrows, though he's at least gone to the trouble of plucking them. "You new here? Haven't seen you before."

Well, what do I say? I don't want to interact with this clown any more than I have to. I'm just gonna make him leave.

"Fuck off," I reply. "I'm not looking for guys in drag."

He looks surprised, then dispirited. He leaves. Okay. Back to watching. Wait, that's that guy looking at?

Another man across the bar, quite elegant with his wavy, cinnamon brown hair, large round glasses and feminine features, looks back to his partner in conversation as soon as I notice him. Did he hear what I said? There's no way. He's all the way over there. Our eyes must have just met by accident.

It's a shame, though. He looks really nice. But, well, he's occupied - someone beat me to him. And, really, he doesn't seem like Bringer material, which is what I'm primarily supposed to be looking for, anyway.

I resume my monitoring of the pairs of the bar and their drinks. It occurs to me that I don't actually know what I'm supposed to do once I spot someone attempting to drug someone else. If I were to go in and expose him, he'd surely be angry and want nothing to do with me. If I let them go and continue their night, though, I'd have to track them, and I don't have the car to do that. Fuck. Ugh. I really should have figured this out beforehand. I was just too caught up in the glee of having some semblance of a plan again…

"Hey, jackass!"

I turn around. What now?

"Yeah, you!" a short bearded man says. "Did you seriously tell Emi to fuck off?"

"Who the fuck is Emi?" I ask before I put two and two together. "Oh, him? Yeah. What of it?"

"Her," the man corrects. "And I have a problem with that."

"What, are you his boyfriend?" I ask mockingly, realizing two microseconds later that I'm in a fucking gay bar. While being gay. Have I really not mentally updated my responses since my school days?

The man stares at me like I'm some kind of fucking idiot, and while he's correct in this case, I don’t appreciate it. "Are you sure you're in the right place, bro? Did you miss the flag outside?"

Fuck this. I'm not taking this shit from a midget, even if he's got muscle. Time to show him who's boss.

I place my beer on the table next to me before stepping closer to the man with my chest forward. "I'm exactly where I wanna be," I say. "But I think you and your friend might wanna go elsewhere."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks. He puffs his own chest. He seems overly confident in his strength. "You think so?"

It would be as easy for me to win this fight as it would be for a persian to win against a skitty. I can just put my paw on his head and his claws won't even be able to reach me.

However… it might not be a good idea to fight.

I look around. People are eyeing us, and they're gonna eye us a lot more if we start tussling. And then the bartender is gonna know, and I'm gonna get thrown out. I don't want that. I can't imagine there are infinite gay bars in Viridian I can just keep getting banned from.

So, as much as it hurts… I'm gonna have to let this go. And I can do that, right? I practiced with my therapist. Yeah.

I take a deep breath through my nose to ground myself and then sigh it out. "Whatever," I say and begin walking off.

"Pussy," the man says.

Something just clicks in me, and I can't stop what comes next.

My hand balls up in a fist and I turn around, swinging it in one arc that ends at the man's gut. My knuckles absorb the impact, and I recall exactly what it was like to fight, whether in the material world or in the training visions HE gave me.

It feels fucking good.

The man recoils with a wheeze, then scowls at me as he clenches his fists in turn and throws the most telegraphed punch in the history of mankind with his left hand. I sidestep and prepare to --

Someone grabs my wrist from behind and I realize it's all over.

"Out," says the voice of the bartender.

The short man mercifully doesn't take the chance to deck me as I'm restrained, but that smug look on his face isn't much better.

"What, is he not gonna get thrown out?" I ask the bartender.

"Tetsuo's a good guy. You're a stranger."

I huff. "I see how it is."

I turn around and make my way out of the bar, the bartender on my tail. Outside, the sky is still bright despite the sunken sun. It was like this when I went in. I sure lasted long…

I'm about to leave when I notice someone leaning on the metal railing separating the sidewalk from the road. It's that brown-haired man with the glasses I saw before. And he's looking at me.

He smiles. He does it in such an elegant, alluring way that I almost flinch. I'm really not used to seeing people I find attractive.

"Rough night?" he asks in a gentle voice. There's a hint of a Galarish accent to it. Matches his pale skin.

I think for a second how to respond. He still doesn't seem like Bringer material. It's not like I'm gonna get anyone else tonight, though, having been kicked out of the only gay bar I know the location of. And I am not going up to people to ask them where to find another.

So… I could just pursue this man regularly instead. If I have any kind of chance. He's clearly quite a catch.

"You could say that," I respond, slowly walking up to him and leaning on the railing myself. "How about you?"

"Eh, could've gone worse. But it looks like I'm out of company for the night."

I want to make some kind of comment about how I'm available, but that doesn't seem very tactful. "Sorry to hear."

"Mm." The man pauses for a moment. "I saw you talking to that dress-wearing man earlier. Seems like you made him upset. What did you say to him?"

He's saying him and not her. Good to know there's another one here with some sense. But I should probably leave out that part about telling the guy to fuck off. That was pretty rude. Not that I care, but this guy might. "Told him I wasn't looking for guys in drag."

He huffs, amused. "Only that? The way he reacted, I would have thought you called him a slur."

"What? No, no, I wouldn't do that."

"Come on," he says, playfully poking me with his elbow. "You don't need to hide it. I don't like those freaks either."

He doesn't? Well, that's good to hear. I feel a smirk rise to my lips. "Well, now I wish I would have. But no, just told him to fuck off. And then his friend got up in my face about it."

"What'd you do then?"

I try to gauge whether this guy approves of violence or not. His appearance belongs to someone who doesn't, but that face he's making… it's like he wants me to say I got physical.

I decide to take the risk. "Might have, you know, tried to rough him up a little."

He laughs. It's like a chime. "Even better. It's great to see there are still guys out there that aren't scared to fight."

"There's a lack of them?" Well, I know there is.

"You haven't noticed? Men are soft these days. Bad news for someone like me who likes them rough."

Rough… am I rough? Yeah, I kill people, but is the Red I can afford to show people rough? I mean, I guess he is. He fought at school a lot. I've just been trying to keep that hush-hush since I don't want the government to think I'm a risk or a suitable suspect.

Regardless… "Now that you mention it, yeah. I can see it."

"You fight often?" he asks.

Uh… I guess he wants to hear a positive. Alright, cool, that's fine by me. "Yeah. Got in trouble at school a lot. But those guys were asking for it."

He smiles. "I bet they were." He takes in a breath and turns the rest of his body to me. I feel like that's a good sign. "So… is it just you out today?"

"Just me," I say. "I'm a bit of a… lone houndoom." Boy, am I ever. "How about you?"

"Friends couldn't make it," he says. "But, well, that's alright. They'd just slow me down."

I nod, then look at the bar. "What happened to that guy you were talking to?"

He crosses his arms. "Psh. Bona fide limpdick. Great example of one of those softer men. He liked to knit in his spare time. Gods have mercy."

Oh, yeah, that's pretty unmasculine. But… so is this guy, at least by the way he looks. Is he aware that he's a walking contradiction?

Well, he's a real sexy contradiction, so it's not like I care.

He unfolds his arms again, placing one hand on the railing and the other on his hip. "So… the city air's awfully dusty. How'd you like to come over to my place? It's a real nice apartment."

Oh. Oh my Gods, it's happening. He's actually asking me to continue the night.

I can't yell 'hell fucking yeah', so I tune down my excitement to a non-virgin level and respond. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

"You come here by car, or…"

"Taxi," I say. 'Bus' just makes me sound poor.

"That's cool. Less hassle." He bounces off the railing. "My car's this way. Come on."

I follow him as he takes me round the building and to the parking lot, where his silver car is. I don't know anything about cars, so I can't tell if it's fancy or not. But I guess it looks nice. Just like him.

After we've seated ourselves, I speak up again. "Didn't catch your name yet."

"Andre," he says. "Andre Duval," he says. "And you?"

"Red Akai."

"Red Akai," he repeats, frowning. "Doesn't that mean --"

"Yes," I say quickly. "It's a nickname."

"Ah. Fair enough."

He starts the car and we're on our way.

"So I take it you're from Viridian?" he asks.

"Pallet, actually," I say.

"Ah, I see. I live in Viridian," he says, "so this ride will take a dozen minutes or so. I'm not from Viridian, though - I'm Galarish."

"I do hear that in your accent."

"Yeah. I was born in Circhester, but I lived for a long time in Wyndon before I decided to come to Kanto."

"What made you come here?"

Andre shrugs. "I've been studying Tohjoan since I was in third grade, so I might as well get some use out of it. I was also here before for an exchange program in high school and I kind of fell in love with the place. How about you? Do you travel?"

Well, during my journey, I… "Been around Kanto, but no further." I leave out Mt Silver on purpose. "And that was with family. I'm not much of a traveler."

"What do you do, then?"

Aw, shit. Here comes the hard part.

"Well, I read." Encyclopedias. "I watch shows." On TV, where no one watches them anymore. "I like to go on walks." I can't anymore now that Michi's friends are after me. "Sorry, I'm kind of boring."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," Andre says. "Tell me more about those books! What are you reading right now?"

"Uhh…" Quick, lie! "Well, there is this one book about… vampires."

"Vampires?"

"Yeah, and this psychic girl with a compulsive need to read minds who accidentally finds out the conspiracy they're upholding."

Andre laughs. At me? No, with me. "That's an interesting synopsis," he says. "I like that in a book. So, you like urban fantasy?"

"...Yeah, I do," I say, feeling the pieces of a lie lock into place. "I find it pretty interesting."

"What's your favorite story?"

Ah, fuck. I can't use Suki's story again. However… "Well, there's this one about a serial killer who worships an ancient god."

"Giratina?"

His eyes on the road, he luckily can't see the flash of disgust on my face. "No, a more powerful god. The gods we know are just puppets to another ancient god."

"Oh, ballsy. What else is in the book?"

"Well, the serial killer finds that the victim of his latest ritual killing has come back as a yamask, and he has to figure out how to kill her again before she can expose his crimes."

"I like it! What's it called?"

"Uhh --" Shit, shit, I should know! Think of a title! "Uhh, The Killer." Good one.

"Hmm. Author clearly isn't as creative with their titles as they are with their plots," Andre comments. "Who's it by?"

"Uh, Kazuki Tanji." Kazuki Tanji was my math teacher. He just popped into my head.

Andre shakes his head. "Haven't heard of him, sorry."

"Yeah, he's not that well known." Eager to move on from the lie, I decide to ask about him. "So, what do you do?"

"Oh, I'm an artist," he says, taking a turn. "I do portraits as a living. And, like all artists, art is how I wind down, too. Outside that, I like to watch shows, too, and a lot of movies."

"Artist, huh? That's pretty cool."

I used to think art was nice to look at but ultimately a waste of time before HE taught me how it can inspire men and unify them under the Helixian insignia. And I have to admire the skill that goes into projecting something three-dimensional onto a flat surface - a sign of a developed brain.

"I wish I had a skill like that," I add.

"Oh, I can get you started in it if you want," Andre says. "Might be something you end up liking."

"Oh… thanks, but no. I'd be too embarrassed."

"Have it your way, then," he says. It's quiet between us for a short while. "So, do I have it correctly if I assume you're a student?"

"Uh, yeah. High school senior."

"How are things going on that front?"

"They're fine. I… get satisfactory grades."

"Got any frien-" He stops. "Oh, Gods, listen to me. I sound like your dad. Sorry, you're just pretty young." He pauses. "You are eighteen or over, right?"

"Yeah, I am. I can show you my ID if you want."

"Nah, no need. You must have shown it back at the bar, anyway."

More silence. I'm beginning to feel like it's a bad thing we're having these pauses. I really am uninteresting…

"So, why did you decide to go out today, specifically?" he asks. "Just had your birthday recently?"

"Oh, no, my birthday's in January. I actually…" Go on, tell him. It'll be something at least a little bit interesting about you. "I got the idea from my rehab group."

"Rehab?"

"Not for drugs. Or, well, some of them did drugs. It's a program for people that committed a crime under the influence of drugs, psychosis or possession. I was the last."

"Uh-huh?"

"Yeah, I apparently held a guy hostage while possessed. I don't remember anything about it, though. I'm told that sometimes happens."

"I see…"

Oh, wait. Did I scare him? Damn it. That plan backfired…

"I-I swear I'm not dangerous, though," I add, as if that's gonna help. "You don't have to worry about me."

Andre looks over briefly and gives me a smile. "Hey, it's alright! I don't judge. Especially victims. You sound like you were one in that scenario."

Ugh, victim. That title should only go to the people I've killed, not me. "I guess so."

"So what's that rehab program like?"

"Well, it's called the Ducklett Program - I know, very lame - and it's a combination of community service, group meetings and therapy. There are five members beside me there, and only one had a possession-related crime like me. On Fridays, we two have pokémon shelter duty, where we…"

I continue talking about my experiences in the program for the rest of the ride. Andre appears interested, but I don't know if he's faking it to be polite or not. At least I'm managing to keep away the silence.

We arrive at an apartment building. Andre parks the car and we get out, still talking, until we've made it up to the door to Andre’s apartment on the second floor. I decide that's a good spot to let the subject rest, quieting.

Andre opens the door and we go inside. On first look, his apartment is spacious, neat and modern in decor. There are paintings on the wall that are landscapes rich in color, richer than natural - I'm sure there's a term for it that I don't know - and I wonder if they're painted by him. Regardless, this place seems like it takes some money to have. More than you'd make with portraits, unless you overcharged ridiculously.

"So, this is my apartment," he says. "Here, lemme give you a tour. He gestures to the kitchen that's in the open. "This is the kitchen and dining area," he says, then stops forward. I follow. "This is the bathroom, if you need it," he says, pointing at a door with an old-timey sign reading 'WC' hanging from a nail. I get the feeling he likes decorating. Next, he opens a door on the adjacent wall. "This is my bedroom…"

It has more paintings, a computer desk and a sizeable bed, and I wonder how many people he's fucked on it - until the crimson-black frilly dress hanging from the full-size mirror catches my attention fully. Is that…

"Oh. Uh, that's not mine," Andre says with a chuckle. "It's… a gift for a friend."

"Oh, I see." That makes sense. While I'm not a fan of women, Andre having a woman for a friend is better than Andre being the woman and just lying to me about hating those kinds of people for some reason that eludes me.

"Anyway…" Andre closes the bedroom door and moves to the next one on the wall. "This here is my studio," he says, opening the door. It shows a sizeable room with an empty easel, newspapers spread all around and a bed with a plastic cover on it. Must be for models.

He closes the door. "And finally, this is my living room." He gestures to the rest of the open space with a couch, a TV and a table. "Make yourself comfortable."

I do as asked and take a seat on the couch. Soft.

"Want something to drink?" Andre asks from the kitchen.

"Uhh, just water," I say.

"Two waters coming up." He fills up two glasses and brings them to the table before sitting down beside me. "So," he begins. "What would you like to talk about?"

“Uhh…” I have nothing interesting to tell him. “How about you tell me some more about yourself?”

Andre tilted his head, but shrugged. “You’re the guest of honor,” he said. “Well…” He leaned back on the couch. “Like I said, I was born in Circhester. I came from a pretty wealthy family, so I didn’t want for much…”

I nod and sip on my water as he continues his life story. I’m not horribly interested in what he has to say, but I enjoy watching him talk. He’s so… lively. He emotes and gestures so readily, and all of his motions are graceful… and his eyes, his brown eyes - they sparkle under the lamp’s light. His wavy hair shuffles and bounces as he moves…

By the Gods. He’s beautiful.

“...and that’s about it, really,” he says. “That’s my life story. How about you?”

“Huh? Uhh…” I got distracted! “I-I don’t really have a story to tell,” I say. I really don’t want to get into the Twitch. “Do we have something else to talk about?”

“Hmm…” he rubs his chin. “Well, after talking so much about myself, I’d rather we talk about something about you… but you already told me what you like.” He tilts his head. “So how about… what you dislike?

“What I dislike?”

“Yeah!” he says, leaning forward. “I love to hear people rant. Really air out their grievances. Especially if they’re problematic.”

“Problematic?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes mischievously narrowing. “And I get the feeling you have lots. Like with that guy in the dress. You wanna tell me more about how you feel about him?”

“Oh, that…” I don’t know. Is he really ready to hear my opinions? Raw Red Akai opinions? “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure.” He waved a hand. “It’s not like I like them either. Go ahead.”

I glance around, as if someone would hear. “You really want to know?”

He smirks. “Come on, get to it already.”

It seems he really wants to hear. Well, here goes, then.

I take a deep breath. “Well, I just don’t know why you’d want to be a woman, you know?”

Andre grins. “There we go. Keep going.”

Alright. “Let’s be honest here. Women are weak. They just can’t do everything men can. I know we’re supposed to pretend that’s not the case, but it is. So why the hell would you want to be one?”

“Exactly,” he says.

Huh. He's… really agreeing. He's agreeing with Helixian rhetoric. Could he actually be… Bringer material after all?

I clear my throat and continue. “See, I wouldn’t have a problem with changing genders if it wasn’t a clear downgrade, you know? Like -- women that want to be men? That I respect. They’re never gonna be as strong as men, but at least they’re going in the right direction.”

Andre chuckles. The sound warms my heart. “I like this. This is good stuff.”

Really? “I’m glad to hear it,” I say. “I’m happy I get to finally say this stuff to somebody, you know. No one else understands. They just want --”

“Everything censored? Sanitized?”

“Exactly!”

“Everyone is so hung up on not offending anyone,“ Andre said. “I say people just need thicker skin. The ability to handle criticism, you know?”

“Yeah! When I say anything that’s slightly out of line, I just get this look. ‘Ooh, you’re supposed to know better.’”

“I know! It’s not as if you’ve killed someone.”

I pause. Does he know? How would he know? Is he --

He bursts into laughter. “Gods, don’t freeze up like that! You’re gonna make me think you’ve actually killed someone.”

I force a chuckle out of myself. “Yeah, no, you just caught me off guard. I haven’t killed anyone, don’t worry.”

He tilts his head. "So, what else? What else do you have to rant about?"

I think about the things that have pissed me off the most and settle on the bullies at school. "Well," I start, "I also think that schools shouldn't punish kids for fighting. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten shit for fighting back against some guys that talk shit."

"Absolutely! Fighting only makes you stronger, doesn't it?"

This guy fucking gets it. "Yes!"

"I can tell it's made you strong," he says, eyeing me. Being appraised like that, by him… fuck, that's hot.

I smirk. "Yeah. I take my training pretty seriously."

"Who do you train with?"

"Uh, a… private instructor. A very good one."

"Could you beat him?"

I let out a laugh. "Gods no. No one can."

"Well, he sounds like quite a man."

"He is." Well, HE isn't a man, strictly speaking.

"Who can you beat, then? Who have you beaten?"

Well… have I really beaten any of my bullies? I've hurt them, but I've never won. But that won't impress Andre. I'll have to lie.

"I don't keep count," I say. "But… I beat two guys at the same time once."

"Wow! Were they strong?"

"Pretty strong, yeah. But I was stronger. More agile. Better trained."

"Damn." He grasps his chin. "Not to be weird, but that's hot."

I can feel my heart beat more quickly. I can feel blood rush into my face and… other places. This could seriously happen.

"Tell me…" he continues, looking into my eyes. "Did you ever beat up someone just because you felt like it?"

Just because I felt like it. Not out of defending my honor or property… but just out of a sadistic urge.

This guy has to be a predator.

"As a matter of fact, I did," I say. This next part isn't even a lie. "Since I had a… predisposition for violence, it was important that I, you know, let off some steam so that I could keep my fists in check during the schoolday. So there was this kid, Tamaki - total pussy, which made it better - who I paid to let me beat up." I lean back. "Of course, I told him to fight back to make it more interesting, but he was never any good at it."

Andre's smile was growing the entire time I spoke, and now it's reached its peak in a grin. I can see myself in that grin. Finally, finally, there is someone else like me.

"Did you ever… fight someone in your own family?" he then asks.

Oh, wow. This guy's hungry for transgressions. I'll unfortunately have to disappoint him this time, though. "Nah. I would've gotten into too much trouble. Would have loved to hit my mom, though. What a bitch."

"Oh? What did she do?"

"Only never took my side," I spit. "She just thought I was a violent maniac."

Andre chuckles. "Well, aren't you?"

I pause. Then, I smirk. "Fair point."

I go for a sip of my water, but realize the glass is empty.

“Oh?” he says. “Need a refill?”

“I could use one, yeah,” I say. “But I think I’m gonna hit the bathroom first.” I get up. “Excuse me.”

“I’ll have it filled by the time you get back,” he says as I enter the bathroom.

Man. What a fucking fantastic date. I could never have imagined things going this well.

…Wait a minute.

Isn't it going a bit too well?

Let's think about this. Andre… really seems to find my violent tendencies hot. He also wanted to hear me rant about things I have a problem with, and he agreed with everything I said. He hasn't really properly challenged my viewpoints at any stage. People tend to avoid conflict, yes, but the way Andre is acting… it's like he's trying to appeal to me as much as he can.

He's doing it to get me off guard. He's doing it so he can drug me. And I fell right into his trap - I've exited the room and given him the perfect opportunity to slip something into my drink.

Fuck.

No, wait. This is exactly what I was looking for, right? A sexual predator? I didn't want to be targeted by one myself, but now that that's happened…

Well, what's next? I can't just bring up how I know about his plot. He'd likely want to throw me out since I wouldn't be his victim anymore. No, I should play along instead. Play along, but use his own drug against him. I just need the right opportunity…

I finish my business quickly and return to the living room. As promised, Andre has refilled my glass. I return to the couch and sit down. For a moment, there's a strange look in Andre's eyes, but it's gone as soon as I notice it.

“Anything else you want to rant about?” he asks.

I smile. Oh, you think you're so sneaky. “How about… how people should raise their kids?”

“Sounds good to me. Let me hear it.”

I raise a hand to punctuate my point. "Alright, so, I think hitting your kid should be fine. I'm not talking about a rib-breaking beating, just a firm slap or something. Something quick and easy that hurts to use when they're being a brat so that they learn to behave…"

He watches me as I rant, smiling and nodding, and sips from his own glass of water. I don't touch my own. At some point, he pauses me to refill his drink and comes back. This would be the perfect time. The amount of liquid in each glass is the same now…

Chaotic jazz suddenly bursts out of his pocket. His phone is ringing. He takes it out.

"Hold on, lemme take this," he says. "It won't be long, I promise." He moves on to the kitchen to take the call. Now is the perfect chance. Now!

I make sure he isn't watching and then switch the two glasses in place. I look back again, and his back is still turned to me. He didn't see me. Good. I can't help the smirk that crawls on my face. I'm so clever.

He ends the call. "Just a friend," he says, turning back to me and heading my way. "Where were we?"

I sigh. "Well, I don't know," I say. "I feel like I'm all ranted out. Are you sure you have nothing you'd like to rant about?"

"Well…" He frowns, sitting by me. "I do have a lot of gripes, but they're pretty specific. If you don't watch the media they're about, I'm not sure if they will mean anything to you."

"Try it anyway," I suggest, taking my glass - formerly his glass - into my hand and taking a sip. I swear I could see a gleam in his eye. "I've been raging for so long that it's only fair you get to do it too."

"Alright, well…" He stares at the ceiling. "Do you know the show Into the Cosmos?"

That sci-fi space show? "Yeah, it comes on TV a lot. I watch it every now and then. It's an alright time waster."

"Question. Is the captain named Harvey?"

"Yeah, he is."

"Then you're watching the old ItC, also known as the good one."

"They made a newer one?"

"Yes, and a far worse one at that," he says. "What used to be a really heady show with philosophical dilemmas is now an action-oriented power fantasy. Beloved old characters have been dragged back and massacred. Do you remember Milo?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, he sold out to the Trudgers and is a snivelling servant to their leader now."

"What? Milo? The ladies' man cook?

"Yes, exactly! It really feels like the new writers hate him just because he acted in kind of sexist ways in the old show, and they want everyone else to hate him too. I mean, sure, some of the things he did were kind of problematic --"

Andre pauses. "...Not that it bothers me, no," he said. "I'm just used to pretending since everyone expects me to be outraged."

"Of course," I say. No, he definitely let his real self slip there. He's very socially conscious, but he wants me to think he isn't so that I spill all my harmful opinions. But for what reason? Is this really the best way to appeal to me? Well, it kind of is. But how does he know that?

Nevertheless, I keep listening to his rants. Some of the changes they made for the new version sound kind of badass, but I don't let it show. Maybe I'll check it out online once I get my fangs and claws - it's reasonable to assume that I'll also get over my fears, then. Though I don't know if the internet is going to survive the transition into the new era. HE said that existing vital infrastructure should be preserved, but I don't know how vital the internet is. I've fared just fine without it for a good portion of my life.

Fifteen minutes later, though, something changes. Andre's sentences become fragmented and he seems to have trouble remembering what he was supposed to say.

It has to be the drug. So it really existed. And I managed to swap it successfully! He's the one who's going down, not me!

Andre finally pauses. He brings a hand to his forehead. “Oh, this isn’t good.”

“What isn’t good?” I ask.

“I thought this was a normal headache that was going to go away, but now my vision is blurring and I’m getting nauseous…” He sighs. “This is a migraine.”

Migraine? Really? The same excuse I use when I need to get out of a scenario? “Sorry to hear that. Are you gonna be alright?”

“I am, but I’m probably gonna start throwing up soon, and that won’t be pretty,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I think we should call this off. You can get home on your own, right?”

Well, it’s obvious he wants me to leave. But I’m not going to. Not now when I’ve finally found a predator.

“I don’t know, man,” I start. “I don’t think I should leave you alone.”

He knots his brow. “No, really, I’m fine. This happens every now and then. I just need to rest.”

“What if you get some complication? You could die.”

“I’ve never had any complications. I’ll be fine this time, too,” he says, noticeably annoyed by now. “Could you please just leave now?”

“I’ll leave once you take an ibuprofen and go rest in your bed,” I tell him. Oh, this is so funny.

“No, dude, I gotta make sure you won’t steal any of my shit or anything,” he hisses. “Start leaving, or I’ll call the cops.”

I lock eyes with him. I think it's safe to show the real me by now. “Oh yeah? Try it.”

He pauses, then begins to totter. “Ugh… what are you doing?

“I know you tried to drug me.”

“What? That’s ridic… ridiculous.” His breathing becomes ragged. He’s struggling to keep upright.

“Don’t worry about it, though,” I tell him, smiling. “I’m glad you did that. It means you’re the person I’m looking for.”

“What are you… talking… ab-”

He collapses onto the couch. I get up, shuffle next to his face and sit down on the table. His glasses are crooked, and he’s giving a murderous glare through them.

“You…” He breathes heavily. “You…”

I keep up my smile. This feels great. One predator outsmarting another, establishing his dominance. And this guy… there’s no one I’d rather dominate right now.

Andre’s eyes begin to droop, and in seconds’ time, they close all the way. His labored breathing and desperate twitches calm down as he loses consciousness. After that, he looks peaceful.

My smile evolves into a grin.

He’s gonna wake up to a hell of a conversation.

---​
 
Chapter Eight - Tension New

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
Hayyyyy guuuuurl. New chapter. Catch it below.

Content warning for references to sexual themes including assault and grooming, references to drugging, description of wounds and talk of mental illness and schizophrenia. Enjoy.

---

CHAPTER EIGHT
Tension

Andre


---​

My back hurts. It stings. It’s like it’s been cut up, then bandaged. But why would it be cut up?

It doesn’t help that it’s against something hard, like a wooden chair. I’m in a chair… and my wrists are tied behind it. And my mouth is duct-taped shut. That’s… that’s not good.

There’s someone here in the room with me. I can sense their aura. It's mostly a bored gray, but there are tinges of amber excitement and lavender apprehension. They must be waiting for me to wake up.

I take a deep breath through my nose and try to open my eyes. They’re extremely heavy, and what I do manage to see is still blurry… but I recognize my painting studio. And someone’s on the bed. Matches up with the aura.

They move. They get up.

“Oh, waking up?”

It’s… him. The guy I brought home, Red. So he decided to stick around until I woke up… and tie me down to a chair. That really isn’t good. But hey, maybe he just wants to give me a scolding? That’s what I’d do in his place…

But his aura has grown in amber - there's even yellow, the yellow of joy. Shouldn’t he be mad? Shouldn’t there be even a shred of red anger?

My vision sharpens as I gradually shed my fatigue. I can see clearly enough to recognize his face now. Matching up with his aura, he’s smiling. It raises my hairs on end.

He leans in and tilts his head. “Yeah, you’re awake,” he says. He clears his throat. “Well, welcome back. I have a lot to talk to you about.”

So a scolding it is? That’s better than the alternative…

He crosses his arms and towers over me. His smile disappears. “You tried to drug me,” he says. “That means you’re prepared to ignore the rights of others for the sake of your own pleasure.”

He thinks I was going to take advantage of him. Of course he does - he’d have no reason to assume I was going to do anything else.

His smile returns. “That means you’re what I like to call a predator, and that means I’m very, very interested in you.”

…What? Does he… does he have a kink or something?

“There’s a position that my master would like filled, and it requires a predator. I’ve been searching far and wide to find a suitable one, and you seem very promising.”

His master? Okay, this has to be some sex thing.

“For the sake of my own safety, I can’t disclose every detail about this position, but I can tell you roughly what’s in it for you - incredible power, immortality, and more pleasure than you could ever imagine.”

…Immortality? Is it… a sex cult? Has this eighteen-year-old been groomed by a sex cult? Gods, that’s terrible. I had it all wrong. He’s a victim of abuse.

“So, are you in?”

I don’t know what he’s going to do to me for refusing, but I can't agree to this. I shake my head.

He just laughs. “I thought you might say that,” he says. “But that doesn’t matter. You don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. I’m going to test you regardless. If you fail, you can go free, but I have good faith in you succeeding.”

I think he’s talking about forcing me into some kind of sex ritual now. I am not doing that. The moment he unties me, I’m going to the cops and telling on this guy. I’m sorry that he has to go to jail, but it’s for the better. People will be safe from him, and he can get the help he needs there. Tohjoan prisons are rather progressive, if what I know is right.

“Now,” he says, smile wilting, and all my muscles tense. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I’m prepared to answer them if you promise not to scream.” He grabs a knife - the same knife I use - off the shelf and points it at me. “Otherwise, I’ll hurt you.”

His aura inverts. Intent to deceive. He’s lying. He’s not actually prepared to hurt me in the way he’s threatening. But I really, really, don’t want to take that risk, so I should just behave for now.

“Do you understand the terms?” he asks. I nod. He smiles again. “Good.”

He shelves the knife, grabs my face and pulls away the duct -- ow! Well, regardless of the pain, I’m glad to breathe through my mouth again. I need the air.

“So,” he begins, “what would you first like to ask?”

I take a moment to catch my breath. I don’t really know what to ask -- oh, of course.

“What did you do to my back?” I ask.

His smile widens. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

I feel a little less bad for him. It’s still clear he’s a sadist.

Okay. What else… well, might as well try to negotiate. “Is there any way for me to get out of this?”

He laughs. “Well, like I said, if you fail, I’ll let you go. Provided you don’t die.”

“Die?”

“Yes. The last candidate I brought my master was killed. But don’t worry - I like you, and I want to keep you alive. Not to mention it’s better if I don’t have to get rid of another body.”

So that intent to deceive I sensed when he said he hadn’t killed anybody was correct. Or maybe it wasn’t, strictly speaking - he didn’t say he was the one doing the killing. But he still knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth, which is where that change in his aura could have come from.

Either way, this sex cult sounds pretty dangerous. I can’t believe I’ve heard nothing about it, not even rumors. It must be a well-kept secret. But… if it is a well-kept secret, how come he’s telling me so openly? Is he… going to kill me if I try to go to the cops? Well, I guess I found my next question.

“Will you… kill me if I try to tell anyone about this?” I ask.

He huffs. “I wouldn’t try speaking to anyone about tonight. Wanna know why?”

“...Why?”

“Pretend I’m the police. Try to tell me about tonight.”

…Weird request, but I’ll humor him. He’s the one with the knife, after all.

“Okay, officer,” I start. “Someone came to my house and…”

And I tried to drug him. I tried to drug him. I tried to drug him.

“...Someone came to… my house… and…”

And I tried to drug him.

I take a deep breath. “Someone came to my house and I tried to drug him --”

I stop. Why do I want to say that so badly? Why can’t I say ‘someone came to my house and knocked me out’?

Red looks positively giddy. “Are you getting it?”

It’s like I… “I can’t lie,” I tell him.

“Exactly. And that’s what I did to your back.”

“Excuse me?” How does doing something to my back make me unable to lie?

“Just one proof of the power my master provides,” he says. “It’s a seal of honesty. Whoever bears it finds themselves unable to deceive another.”

…Something like that exists?

Well, I guess it does. It was just proven to me.

“I hope you understand what that means,” he says. “If you try to tell anyone about this, you’re going to have to try extremely hard not to incriminate yourself. And, really, I haven’t done much of anything to you yet.”

“You carved something into my back and tied me up in my own apartment.”

“And is telling someone else that worth being outed as a rapist?”

“Hey! I wasn’t going to take advantage of you!”

He quiets. Orange surprise overtakes his aura.

Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said that.

“...If you weren’t going to take advantage of me,” he starts slowly, “what were you going to do?”

I turn my head away. I can’t tell him.

He steps closer. “Tell me.”

The lie I would like to tell is that I would have tied him up and lectured him about his terrible opinions and violent behavior, but it does me no good. I won’t be able to tell it.

He grabs the knife and brings it to my neck, his anger flaring. “Tell me!”

I can still sense his intent to deceive, signalling to me that he wouldn’t actually dare to kill me here and now, but the primitive fear response is too much. I have to tell him the truth.

“I…” I start, “was going to kill you.”

Surprise engulfs his aura again. Wide-eyed, he takes away the knife.

Then joy explodes out of his aura. He begins to laugh. It brings a chill down my spine. Why is he… why is he happy about that?

“Oh Gods,” he says. “You’re perfect.”

“Perfect for… what?”

"Well, that position I offered." Right. "A rapist is one thing, but a killer is entirely another. You may have just guaranteed your Bringerhood."

“Bringerhood?”

His aura flinches, and then he hums. “I don’t think I should say that much yet at this point,” he says. He shelves the knife again and leans closer. “So you wanted to kill me… just for your own pleasure?”

I glare at him. “No. I wanted to kill you because you’re a bad person.”

He tilts his head, a little confusion coming through. “So you only want to kill bad people?” he asks. “I won’t lie, that takes some points away.”
This philosophy of his is really starting to bother me. “I’m not what you think I am,” I tell him. “I’m not a psychopath. I kill people for the good of everyone else.”

He grabs his chin. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I find people who are abusive and I take them out.”

Without even realizing it, I’ve told him of my other murders. Fuck. I need to be careful with this honesty spell.

“Tch.” He frowns and looks away, emitting indigo disappointment. “Should have known there was something wrong with you.”

Something wrong…? Killing people for a good reason is wrong? Not the 'killing people' part, but the 'good reason' part? Fucking hell… that cult has really fucked this kid up.

He smiles again. “But I’m not gonna give up on you. Fact is, you still kill people, and that makes you a predator. That makes you something I want.”

“A predator? What do you mean by that?”

“Ah!” He perks up, as if I’ve just gotten him to talk about his special interest. “Well, you see, the world is divided into predators and prey. Houndoom and mareep. The people who are able to rise beyond primitive social instincts, like you and me, are the predators. They prey on the rest of humanity, known as the prey. The ones that still cling to their outdated morals.” He crosses his arms. “There will come a time, soon, when the predators will rule once again. And that is what I need you for.”

I pause. I better pop the question now. “Listen… I gotta ask. Is this thing some kind of sex cult or what?”

Surprise and indignation blasts from his aura. “Sex cult? Where did you get that idea?”

It’s not one? “Well… you seemed to be very happy to find someone you presumed to be a rapist, and then you talked about your master...”

He raises his palms. “No, no, not at all. There’s no sex.” He pauses. “Well, no sex for you, to be specific. The Bringer has to be celibate. Me, I could have sex if I wanted. That’s partially why I was out today. I was looking for…” He sighs. “No. Not a sex cult.”

I raise a brow. “But it is a cult?”

He inhales through his nose, crossing his arms. “It all depends on what you consider a cult,” he says. “Is it religious? Yes. Is it untraditional? Yes. Is it evil?” He laughs. “I’m sure many would say so, but those people are mareep. Their opinions hold no weight.”

‘I see,’ I think of saying, but realize that's a lie and thus immediately become unable to say it.

“I know it must sound intimidating,” he says, “but I guarantee you that it’s worth your while. And if you end up failing - and you don’t get killed, which I don’t think you will - I’ll just erase your memory with another seal. You’ll get some strange scars and you’ll have many blank days, but you won’t remember anything incriminating. I’ll undo the seal of honesty, too, and you’ll be able to lie and kill in peace again. I won’t get in your way. Sound good?”

“No,” I mutter.

He frowns. “Right. I knew this wouldn’t be so easy. I’ll just have to convince you.”

I stare at him from underneath my brow. “And what does this ‘convincing’ entail?”

“I’m gonna be hanging out with you for a while. After all, you might need help doing things without revealing your dark secrets to people.”

The thought of even more time with this guy is terrifying. “Is there no other way?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Aside from my master, I’m currently the only member, and my master has far more important things to do than converting people.”

Wait. “You’re the only member?”

A hint of annoyance comes through. “Yeah, what of it?”

“Well, I just thought… I thought this was some big underground thing.” That explains why I hadn’t heard of it.

He glares at me. “It is big. It’s far bigger than you can imagine. It’s just been dormant for thousands of years, and it’s waking up slowly.”

Thousands of years…?

“Can you… tell me more about your master?” I ask.

“I can’t tell you everything. I have to protect him, you see. But I’ll let you know that he isn’t human. He is an ancient god who predates even Arceus. He is the one who has given me knowledge of all these seals. He is the one who has trained me, taught me the ways of his ancient kingdom.”

“Ancient… kingdom?”

“Yes, there was an ancient kingdom he led, but almost everything it produced was systematically destroyed by its enemies once it fell. From what there is left, you might know it as Civilization X.”

Civilization X?

It all makes sense now. “You’re giratinist?”

He scowls, and a gale of green indignation hits me. “No, absolutely not,” he says. “I’m a Helixian.”

“Helixian?”

“That’s right. Helix is my god’s name.” He points a finger at me. “And don’t you say his name lightly.”

“Okay… I won’t.” I pause. “Um, how exactly does this god speak to you?”

“Well, I can’t reveal the details --” Sudden anger takes over. “You think I made him up, don’t you?”

I want to say ‘no’ to calm him, but again, it would be a lie.

He sighs. “He is real. There is proof of that beyond my words, too - he gave me these spells, and he gave me all sorts of archeological evidence.”

“Can you… show me this archeological evidence?”

“No.” He glances elsewhere. “You haven’t earned the right to see it yet.”

“...I see.”

Okay, new theory. It’s not a sex cult. This guy is just schizophrenic and badly needs some help.

“So… about the seal of honesty,” I begin.

“Yeah?”

“You have to take that away at some point, right? I mean, otherwise I’ll be a risk for your whole operation.”

He takes in a breath. “Well, I haven’t actually told you anything incriminating yet,” he says, “and I’ll keep it that way until I know I can trust you.” He smiles. “After that, we’re gonna have a lot of fun together.”

“Uh-huh.”

He huffs. “I know it sounds crazy now, but once you learn more, you’re gonna be on board. I’m sure of it.”

Intent to deceive.

“In any case, if you just do as I say and let me help you, there’s nothing to worry about,” he says. He does seem to be honest now.

But what the hell does he mean ‘nothing to worry about’? I’m gonna be stuck in my own home, relying on some psychopath who carved some blood magic seal on my back in order to keep me from lying. I can’t talk to any of my friends - unless he helps me write text messages that lie. I’m probably gonna have to ask him to do that.

He looks up at the clock, and so do I -- it’s nearing midnight. “It’s getting late,” he says. “We can pick this up from tomorrow.”

He walks past me, crouching behind me, and begins to undo the ropes.

“Unless, of course, there’s still something you want to tell me?” he asks, stopping.

Well… he still doesn’t seem to know I’m aura sensitive. He might want to know that, given it means I can tell when he’s lying.

Then again, I don't want to tell him. Could I work with that?

The lie is just one word, 'no', but as I get ready to say it, it won't go through. Fuck. So I guess this spell looks at the intention of the words you're trying to say rather than whether they're technically true in a literal reading. In other words, it blocks things said with intent to deceive.

"Oh, there's something, I can tell," Red says. “Now…” He grabs my shoulders like a corviknight. “What is it that you’re keeping from me?”

Well… I could still just stay silent. There is a big tactical advantage in not letting him know I’m aura sensitive…

“Let’s see,” he says, letting go and beginning to walk around the room. “What’s something that you value a lot…?”

What?

“It wouldn’t be in this room, probably, since paint might spray on it…”

He goes into the closet at the back of the room. “Huh, how about this?” He pulls out one of -- oh, no, not those.

The painting he's holding is one of my acrylic paintings, specifically the first one of them all, the one with the stabbing. Violet lightning shoots from the pitch-black man's eyes as red magma bleeds from his stab wound. It's rougher than the others. I was less experienced. Less certain of myself.

Red walks over to the shelf with the knife and takes it. "Tell me your little secret, or I'll shred this painting."

I have to do it. I can't let him destroy that painting.

"Don't," I say, stopping Red as he brings the knife closer to the fabric. "I'll tell you."

He smiles and steps closer. "What is it?"

Gods. I guess I'm telling him. Here goes my edge. "I'm aura sensitive."

His smile wilts away. Shock, then annoyance. "I can't fucking believe it," he whispers.

"What's wrong?"

“How rare is aura sensitivity?”

“Uh… around one in 10 000?”

“And of course I meet two…” He shakes his head. “Never mind. So, that means you can tell when I’m lying?”

I nod.

“Well,” he says, smiling. “I guess that makes us even, then.”

He returns the painting to its place in the closet and shelves the knife. He circles behind me again and unties my ropes, this time completely. I slowly pull my freed hands up to my lap. Red marks encircle the wrists.

“I’m gonna head home,” he says, walking out of the room, “but I’ll be back tomorrow. Be here then.”

“It’s not like I can go anywhere with this seal on my back,” I mutter.

He laughs. Gods, the gall. “Good. You’re getting it.”

I get up and walk after him. He’s at the front door.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Andre,” he says. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have the kind of night you wanted. But, well, stick around with me and you might have more of those nights than you could imagine.”

I don't know what he means by that, but I don't like it.

He opens the door. “Goodnight,” he says.

I sigh. “Goodnight.”

With that, he slips out. I wait a minute or so to make sure his aura is actually leaving.

After he’s gone, I walk to the bathroom and take my shirt off. I turn my back to the mirror and look over my shoulder. The bandages are slightly bloody around my back.

I sigh. I guess I should leave them be. I can’t imagine putting them on by myself to be easy, even if I’m dying to know what’s underneath.

Did he really have archeological material on Civilization X, and that’s where he found those spells? Strange seals were part of what was found of it. But what about that god that supposedly gave them to him?

…Okay, theory. He stumbled upon some Civilization X material including magical seals that actually worked, but the god thing is the product of his own delusions. Or maybe it’s some ghost talking to him just to fuck with him. He did mention having been possessed earlier…

Well, either way, I know I’m not gonna sleep well tonight. I’m apparently going to have to spend an indeterminate amount of time with a nutcase who thinks morality is for the weak. Am I really gonna be alright?

…I guess there’s nothing I can do but find out.

---

Red

---​

June 1st, 149

Fantastic news - I have found a very promising candidate.

Last night, as I was visiting one gay bar as I’d planned, I ended up in an unfortunate altercation and was thrown out. However, this stroke of bad luck then turned good as one attractive man chatted me up outside. This man's name was Andre and he seemed interested in me, so I decided to join him as he went home. I found him to be entertaining company, though that would end up being all based on lies as I found out he had only lured me there to be drugged.

This, however, was a stroke of luck even better. I had found a predator after all. So, I then switched our glasses and caused him to consume his own drug and pass out instead. I carved a seal of honesty on his back as a form of blackmail to keep him quiet, then tied him up. Once he awoke, I questioned him and found out that he had actually been planning to kill me instead of simply taking advantage of me, which made me even more excited. I told him about my lord and what HE had to offer, and while he did not seem to believe me or be interested yet, I am sure he will come around.

I am going to go back to his apartment today right after I finish this journal entry. I will be bringing my Helixian textbook with me alongside some less important document to help assure Andre that what I am speaking really is the truth. The next journal entry will be an update on his progress in learning the Helixian way, provided nothing unexpected happens to disqualify him as a candidate.

Red Akai, High Priest


---​

I press the doorbell. Its chime lingers for a few seconds, and it’s silent for a dozen more before the door is opened. Andre looks… well, I'd like to say that he looks as beautiful as last night, but he doesn't. His hair is messy, his eyes are tired and he's wearing a white rag of a shirt with multicolored stains.

He notices the piece of wood hanging from my neck and sighs through his nose.

“You got yourself an amulet,” he says. “And now I can’t sense your aura at all.”

I nod, grabbing the amulet. “I have secrets I need to keep.”

“So do I, but you don’t care,” he mutters, moving away from the door. “Come in.”

I slip in and shut the door behind me. I look at his shirt again. “Were you painting?” I ask.

“Yes.” Andre pockets his hands. ”But I guess I gotta stop that now that you’re here.” He notices what’s on my back. “What’s in your backpack?”

“Well, you seemed to be skeptical about the existence of that archeological material I mentioned, so I brought some with me after all,” I tell him. “Do you wanna see it right away?”

He sighs. “Why not?”

I take off my backpack and place it on the kitchen table before pulling out a large, flat plastic container from it. I place it on the table and open it to reveal an old booklet bound together with leather strips. Its writing is foreign to Andre.

“What is that?” he asks.

I point my finger to the title and read it out loud from right to left. “Everyday Exercise Guide,” I translate.

He quirks a brow. “Exercise guide?”

I open the booklet, and series of drawings of faceless men in various poses show themselves. “It was a booklet meant to guide a Helixian through an everyday workout routine.”

Andre crosses his arms. “How old did you say this civilization was?”

“I didn’t yet. Four thousand years.”

Andre laughs. “And you say they had workout guides?”

I frown. “Fitness was a very important ideal for Helixians,” I say, “and they were very advanced for their time. The quality of life was much better than any other kingdom at the time, especially with hygiene, thanks to my lord introducing germ theory to them --”

Andre scoffs. “You’re saying they had a god give them information that wasn’t going to be uncovered in millennia? How would you even explain germ theory to someone in the Bronze Age?”

“Patiently and with metaphors,” I answer. “And a lot of new words. They didn’t have the word for ‘pathogen’ or for ‘cell’, so they used ‘dirtlet’ and ‘lifelet’. Or that’s how I’d translate them. They used diminutives. A diminutive is --”

“I know what a diminutive is, thanks.” He sighs yet again. “Where did you find all this again?”

”In a sealed chamber in Mt Moon.”

“Right…” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, dude, but you’ve been had.”

“What?”

He gestures to the booklet. “This is clearly fake, and you fell for it.”

My hand balls into a fist. “No, it’s not. It’s proof of the Helixian Kingdom --”

“There was no Helixian Kingdom!” he says, throwing his arms up in the air. “There’s just you and your delusions and this prank someone pulled on you. This might even be some weird advertising trick of some company. You need some media literacy in your life.”

I clench my teeth. I expected him to doubt HIS existence, but I didn’t expect to get this angry at it.

“If we gave this to a professional,” I slowly say, “he would tell us that this is genuine.”

“Well, let’s just ring up my buddy Johnson the Archeologist and ask him,” he mocks.

I groan. “Did you already forget about the seal of honesty on your back? It was the same place that I found this material in, and it was on the same kind of paper in the same writing and language. This is just as real as that is.”

Andre rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

“I got you there, didn’t I?” I say.

“I don’t know how to explain the magical seals, that’s true,” he says, “but I’m not going to just believe you when you talk about ancient gods and gymrat kingdoms.”

“That’s fine at this time,” I say, but don’t know if I mean it. “You’re allowed to be skeptical. But, whether you like it or not, we are going to look at material like this and learn from it.”

“Learn what from it?”

“The Helixian language, for example,” I say and dig my hand into the backpack, pulling out a brown book with the symbol of a spiral shell on it. I carved that with extreme care. If this guy mistreats this book, I’m gonna wring his neck.

“What’s that?” he asks as I place the book on the table.

“That’s my Helixian textbook. I made it myself for a situation like this.”

I open the book and show him the first opening, showcasing the Helixian alphabet.

“Get yourself some damn paper and a pencil, because we’re gonna be learning all of these,” I grumble.

“Fine,” Andre spits back, going to his painting room. “It’s useless information, but you’re blackmailing me, so there’s not much else I can fucking do.”

“I’m glad you understand that.”

He returns with a pencil and some papers. We both seat ourselves by the table. I move my backpack off the table and under it.

“Alright,” I start, clearing my throat, and point at the first symbol - on the upper left this time, to make things easier for beginners. “This one is alap. It makes an ‘ah’ sound. Think of it as equivalent to the letter ‘A’. Let me show you how to draw it.”

I draw the three lines that make up alap.

“Now you do it.”

He does as asked. His copy of mine is impressively similar. I guess that should be expected from someone who recreates what he sees for a living.

He looks at the alphabet and squints. “This just looks like modified Copper Valley script,” he says.

"You're not totally off," I say. "Copper Valley script, or Nechoshet script, is based on Aava script just like Helixian is. Though Nechoshet and Aava both differ from Helixian - well, Later Helixian - in that Helixian script has vowels. My lord added them to make the writing system more flexible."

He raises a brow. "You know your Bronze Age writing. Okay. That still doesn't mean what you've got here is genuine."

“Or maybe it does and you’re just being a stubborn ass.”

He rolls his eyes. I move on to the next letter.

After about twenty minutes or so, we finish going through all the letters. I give him some short words to write out using them. He’s getting them all right. Of course he is, he’s a four-eyes.

“I think that’s enough for today,” I tell him, and he sighs in relief.

“Finally.”

“Oh, come on, it couldn’t be that bad,” I say. “I can see you have books on archeology in your shelves. You’re into this kind of stuff.”

“Maybe when I’m not being forced to do it,” he says. “Now, are you gonna leave or what?”

I huff. “No, I’ll be here all day. This was just the work I had for you. I’m still gonna stick around.”

“What? Why?”

“We need to bond,” I tell him. “We’re part of the same brotherhood now, and we’re the only two members. We need to get along.”

“So we need to be friends?”

“Yeah, essentially.” I'd love to be more, but if Andre's going to be the Bringer, he'll need to stay celibate. Unfortunate, but I'd rather see the Helixian Kingdom return over having sex a couple of times.

“That’s fine," he says. "Just undo the effects of the seal and I’ll get right to it.”

I frown. “You know I can’t do that. You’d go straight to the cops if I did that.”

“I know. It’s almost as if you’ve committed crimes.”

I cross my arms. “So have you.”

He glances elsewhere, uncomfortable. “My crimes… have meaning,” he eventually says.

“Really?”

“Yes. My crimes are for good reasons,” he says. “Whereas you… I don’t even know what you’re doing this for, but I’m sure it’s nothing good.”

I scoff. This is ridiculous. “You still kill people, Andre,” I say. “You’re not a good person. Don’t try to trick yourself into believing that. You’re a predator, just like me, and you kill because you like it.”

He stares at me with his mouth agape. It’s like… what I said surprised him somehow?

“You’re wrong,” he finally says, leaning in. “The people I kill are bad people, and the world is better off without them.”

“But you do like killing them.”

He flinches, but steels his gaze. He opens his mouth to say something… but he can't say it, and as he realizes this, he begins to look more distressed.

"What?" I ask.

"I…" he tries. "I…"

I'm confused for a moment until I get it. "Oh," I say. "You like it, but you don't like that you like it."

"No, I -- aaghh!" He grabs his head. He must have gotten that through before he realized he was lying again, and the seal is punishing him for it.

"Hey, take it easy," I say. "Stick to truths."

"I don't… I don't want it to be true…"

I feel a bit… strange. I feel… bad for him? Is that allowed for me?

Well, predators are allowed to bond with other predators. They're allowed to be invested in them and their situations. Feeling bad is… allowed, even if it is the mark of a lower predator.

Or maybe I don't feel bad for Andre. Maybe I feel bad for my past self, who had to struggle with these things at one point. And that would be entirely allowed - one is naturally concerned with themselves, and should be.

In any case, what should I say?

Well, I should tell him the things HE told me.

"I get it," I say. "You've been told all your life to be a good person. That wanting to hurt others is evil and something you shouldn't want to do. Something that makes you a freak, sick in the head. But that's not true."

Andre looks at me as I speak, still distressed.

"It doesn't make you worse than others," I continue. "It makes you better. It makes you strong. It makes you further evolved."

"Further evolved?" His distress gives way to confusion.

I nod. "Social instincts like empathy are outdated. They served us when we were nothing but apes, but now… we're smarter. We're self-aware, and we can solve problems through logic. We can choose what is good for our communities through careful thought, not emotions. Social instincts can only hold humans back - they tell us to have mercy on our enemies, they tell us to care for lost causes. We would be so much freer without them."

The distress returns. "That's… terrible," Andre says. "That's inhuman."

"And what is so important about being human? Why shouldn't we let that go? Why should we cling to a lesser form?"

"Are you sure you've thought this through?" he says, taking his hands off his head. "You say we shouldn't care for lost causes. What if the people in charge would consider you a lost cause? Or their enemy, on which they would have no mercy?"

"That's why it's important for the right kind of people to be in charge," I say. "That's why the Helixian Kingdom must be brought back. HE - HELIX - will judge who is worthy. And HE has already appointed me as one of HIS own."

"So… what, it's just an exclusive club you need to be part of, and everyone else will be killed?"

"Killed, enslaved, it depends on how useful they can be. But, Andre, it's really not as arbitrary as you make it sound. HE will accept any predator who is willing to bow to HIM. Race, gender, sexuality, it doesn't matter."

"Oh, that's so wholesome. The psychopath cult isn't racist."

I sigh. "Why do you have to resist this so badly?"

"Because I want to be a good person. I don't want to be some evil utilitarian yet also sadistic motherfucker."

"Why do you want to be a good person?"

"It's the right thing to do."

"And why does it matter, doing the right thing? It doesn't serve you. You would gain so much more benefit from allowing yourself to manipulate and cheat. Hell, I already know you're capable of that!"

Andre glares at me. "If everyone manipulated and cheated for their own personal gain, society couldn't function. People would simply stop trusting each other, and they'd no longer want to work together, and then all infrastructure would collapse. Is that what you want?"

Kind of, I think, but my primitivism isn't necessarily part of Helixism. "You aren't listening to me. In a society of predators, people would still cooperate. They'd simply evaluate the situation and come to the conclusion that there's much more to gain from cooperation than solitude."

"You're telling me two different things. You're telling me that I should cheat, but also that this perfect society, which you want me to be part of, wouldn't cheat."

"That's because this current society is run by mareep. It is not run by us, it is not meant for us. We are entitled to abuse it to our own benefit until real civilization arrives."

He sighs. "This is stupid."

I frown. "It's not. You've just been conditioned to think it is. But you can break free from that. You can see things for what they really are."

"What I'm seeing right now is that there's a fucking lunatic in front of me trying to get me to learn a Bronze Age language and bow to a god that most certainly isn't real."

I bang my fist on the table. "HE is real!"

Andre recoils. I realize what I've done.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I just… if you were in my position, you'd understand why that makes me angry."

"No, I understand," he says, still shaken. "You're… you're unwell. You don't understand that what you're saying is crazy."

I sigh deeply. I'm reeeeeaaally going to have my work cut out for me here. But maybe I should just let this rest for now. I don't want things to get too heated.

"Alright," I say. "I can tell this conversation isn't going well. Let's let it go for now, do something else. Maybe you should… continue your painting?" I say, gesturing to his paint-stained shirt.

He blinks, then looks at what he's wearing. He gets up without a word and goes back to his studio. I follow him, smelling turpentine or some other thinner as I enter. I’m excited to see what masterpiece is on his canvas, but I just see blotches and shapes.

“What are you painting?” I ask.

Andre glares at me, looking like he really doesn’t want to tell me.

“Something expressive?” I ask, since it’s the most likely answer and I want to show him that I wouldn’t make fun of it. I should really try to be nicer in general. I’m trying to befriend this guy.

“Could you leave me alone while I do this?” he says. “You can still stay at my apartment. I just don’t paint well with people watching me.”

That’s my first opportunity to choose a friendlier act. “Sure. Have fun.”

I exit the studio and close the door behind me. I don’t need to be aura sensitive to tell he must be relieved.

Having nothing to do, I decide to go through his bookshelves. There’s a lot of books on drawing and anatomy - anatomy, maybe we can bond over that - and there are a lot of novels. Many are thrillers, by the looks of them. Then there are books on history, and… hey, a book called Lost Civilizations. It has to have at least something Civilization X. If I read what’s there and I’m able to explain something, maybe Andre will be more inclined to believe me!

I take it out and open it up, checking the index to get to the part on Civ X. As I open the right page, I’m greeted with images of incomplete seals and letters with code in them. I sit down on the couch and read the text. It seems they still think the code is a natural language, unknowing that it was designed to be that way to preserve information and save some documents from the kingdoms that wanted to destroy the Helixian Kingdom’s heritage.

Only I don’t know how to crack the code either. The instructions were present in the materials HE gave me, but they were too complicated to learn by heart. Hence, it’s not something I can impress Andre with. Damn.

I read on and find the same things that I remember finding when I read about them when I was still learning about Helixians. I guess not much new has been found during the last few years… or is this book old? Yeah, it’s from 143, six years ago. Though I don’t expect them to find anything new they haven’t found in the last 4,000 years.

I hear the studio door open. Andre steps through.

“Finish your painting?” I ask. “That was quick.”

“There wasn’t much left to do,” he says, walking to his bedroom. “Not that I was in the best state of mind. You knocked me out of my flow when you arrived.”

I shrug. “Alright.”

He closes the bedroom door behind him. A minute later, he emerges with a new, clean shirt and brings the old one back to the studio. Once he’s done, he looks at me and sighs, probably thinking about how he’ll need to deal with me again now.

“Found yourself a book?” he asks.

“Yeah, I was looking for Civilization X stuff,” I answer. “Since that and the Helixian Kingdom are one and the same.”

“So you say,” he mutters.

“Look, I can prove it,” I say, getting up and stepping to his side. I show him one of the first openings and point to the photograph of an old piece of paper with a faded piece of a seal on it. “That’s part of the seal of honesty,” I tell him. “If you let me take a picture of your back, we can compare.”

He pauses, hesitating. “I guess that’s something I’d like to see,” he sighs. “But you’re gonna be the one to bandage me up again.”

“I was already going to,” I say. “They need to be changed daily.”

He removes his shirt, revealing his bandaged back. Immediately, my primal self awakens. It's telling me to seize the moment. Whether that means to embrace Andre or kill him is unknown to me, but it's not like I can do either. I worry for a bit about how I must look to Andre through his aura sense until I remember I've got the amulet on. And that’s for the better. He should feel as safe with me as he can.

I place the book in my hands on a nearby dresser and begin to take off Andre's bandages.

“Right," he begins, "I guess I should take it off every day for a shower, and put new ones on after, I forgot to shower this morning. Everything with you fucked up my sleep schedule and therefore my routine.”

“You slept poorly?”

“A psychopath drugged me and carved some blood magic seal into my back. Wouldn’t you?”

I wouldn’t let myself get drugged in the first place, but if I want us to have a good relationship, I’m gonna have to cut down on the snark. “Fair enough.” I finish removing the bandages, noting that the wound seems to be healing as it should. It's also still quite arousing to see these wounds on his skin, wounds I gave him, but again, I ought to just ignore that. “Okay, now I need your phone’s camera.”

“What’s wrong with yours?” he asks over his shoulder.

“It’s… broken,” I lie. “Just give me your phone.”

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the camera. He hands it to me. I push aside the anxiety caused by holding a modern screen in my hands and take the photo. I hand the phone back to Andre, and as he navigates to the photo, I fetch the book again and show it to him. He compares the photos and sees that, indeed, the picture in the book shows part of the seal.

“Well, yeah,” he says, “I guess it’s the same.” He pockets his phone.

“Now do you believe that my artifacts are real?”

He sighs. “It doesn’t prove everything you have is real, but I guess I can go along with that theory for the time being,” he says. “As for your master, though, I still have no reason to believe HE exists.”

"Hm." Well, all in good time.

Andre heads for the bathroom. “I’m gonna take this opportunity to shower,” he says, “unless you’re gonna try and tell me your master wants you to watch.”

“I’m going to have to evaluate your body eventually, but that can wait.”

He stops and gives me an incredulous look. “Fucking hell,” he says and enters the bathroom. The door locks very quickly.

I wait for him to finish showering, going through some other civilizations listed in the book - they’re not as interesting - until he steps out again, hair wet, wearing just his jeans and a first aid kit in his hold. Another primal feeling comes over me, but this time I can tell it's just regular sexual attraction. Man. You know, if Andre isn't the Bringer yet, it's still okay for him to have sex. Should I -- no, I should not ask him. Think with your brain, Red, not with your dick.

“Come on over to the couch,” I tell Andre. “I’m gonna go wash my hands.”

He nods. I go wash my hands and return to him sitting on the couch. I sit by him, open the first aid kit and get to work. I have a pretty good time doing so. I've always liked patching up wounds. Doing that every day and seeing the wounds heal makes me appreciate the body's self-repair mechanism and gives me reassurance that sometimes things do get better.

“There we go,” I say, the gauze and bandages in place. “All patched up.”

“Well, well,” Andre says. “You’re good at this. Maybe you should be a doctor.”

I sigh. He had to say that. “I’d like to, but I can’t.”

“Too much work?”

“I’m not lazy,” I spit. “I…”

I sigh. Maybe honesty is the best policy. I mean, he would find out anyway once I kept spending time here on weekdays.

“I’m not in school anymore,” I confess.

“How come?” he asks, putting his shirt back on.

I glance away. “I had… trouble with the other kids.”

He gives me a curious look, but then realizes something. "Yeah. If you really liked to fight as much as you said…"

"Well, I was usually just defending myself."

"Usually?"

He's trying to guilt trip me, but I have no guilt. "Yes. I told you about Tamaki before. It was something I had to do to vent frustration."

"You could have just, I don't know, gone to fucking therapy."

I frown. "It's not that simple."

"Really is, dude. Besides, didn't you say that therapy was part of your rehab program?"

I sigh. "Yes." I start to put the first aid supplies back in the bag, not really wanting to have this conversation.

Andre turns to me fully. "Has it been any help?"

I think about the practices Sonya had me do. “I don’t know.”

He pauses. “I hope they manage to help you,” he says quietly.

I freeze. "Really?”

“Well, I can’t lie, can I?”

"I guess you can't."

I sink into thought for a while. Andre just expressed concern for my wellbeing. It's not, like, super predator-y, but as stated before, bonds between predators are allowed. And it's better that we have a bond. Things will go more smoothly. And, well, I can't deny that I have my own rapidash in the race. I like Andre, and I want to be close to him. Even if he'll need to shed any stronger attachment once he becomes Bringer.

"Thanks," I decide to say, quietly as well.

"But, well," Andre speaks up again, "don't mistake that for me thinking you're just a poor little victim who needs help. You've still done terrible things."

Ah. I guess the moment is over. "You don't even know what it exactly is I've done," I mutter.

"How could it be anything but terrible with the rhetoric you've been giving me?"

Hm. Fair point.

He gets up and visits his bedroom to fetch himself a shirt and puts it on. Aw, shirtless Andre time is over.

He looks at me and sighs. After a moment of silence, he speaks again. "Have you ever considered - you know, just considered - turning yourself in?"

"Ha!" That'll be the day. "No, never. What, you have?"

He looks a bit despondent. "On occasion."

I quirk a brow. "Why? Why would you ever want to do that?"

He sighs. "While I maintain that the people I've killed so far have deserved it… I've still worried sometimes if I'm gonna be able to keep that up. If I'm really going to be able to stick to my morals and verify everything properly. And now that I've apparently found out that I like killing…" His expression becomes pained. "I have to consider the damage I may someday do if I go free."

"Well… you know what I think. I think you should just kill and not care."

He glares at me. "You know, I would have killed you if you hadn't switched those glasses. You probably wouldn't have liked that, huh?"

I flinch. I didn't even… consider that. I came very close to death. Close to infinite pain. Gods. That's terrifying.

"Yeah, not nice, is it?" he says. "That's what I've been doing to people. That's what I'm pretty sure I know you've done to someone at least once."

"What? How?" I don't think I've ever let him know about my crimes… or, well, I did mention my master killing someone and my getting rid of the body. But that's not me killing anyone, is it? Is he just making assumptions?

"Yesterday, when we were talking, do you remember what I said? I said 'it's not as if you've killed someone' or something to that effect. And your aura flinched. You had something to hide."

Fuck. You really have to be careful around aura-sensitives.

Andre crosses his arms. "So, who was it? What were they like? Were there more than one?"

I look him in the eyes. He can't know. The more he has confirmed information about my crimes, the worse the consequences if he ends up telling the cops despite the risks. Though it's not like he doesn't already have shit on me already - I did knowingly drug him and then carve something on his back and then tie him up and then refuse to leave his apartment. If the justice system found out about any of this, so would the rehab program, and I'd surely be taken back to court. And I'd get nothing short of prison time.

So, what do I tell Andre? I guess I could think of a lie…

"I've killed just one person," I begin, "and it was an accident. There was an old guy that pissed me off on a bad day, and I yelled at him. The guy got a heart attack and died. So, I basically killed him. But it wasn't a crime."

Andre stares at me. "Take off your amulet and say that again."

I clench my teeth. "No. The amulet stays on."

He exhales through his nose. "So you're lying, then."

"Like I said, I'm guarding my secrets," I say. "Just like you do every day."

"You already know my secret," he says. "It's only fair for me to know yours." He throws his hands in the air. "It's not like I can tell the cops - you made sure of that. And you're telling me you're gonna wipe my memory anyway if you find me unsuitable, which you most definitely will. So, why don't you just tell me the truth?"

I take a moment to consider it.

"...No," I say. He wouldn't take it well. "The answer is no."

He sighs, a hand on his hip. "Then I'll just have to assume the worst."

"And what's that?"

"I don't know specifically, but it means I consider you insane and dangerous. I don't know how much your schizophrenia ultimately affects your ability to make moral choices, but talking to you, it's pretty hard to see you as anything but an irredeemable piece of shit."

"Schizophrenia? Come the fuck on."

"It's either that or some kind of psychic or spectral mind control. Regardless, you're not fully sound of mind."

I sigh heavily. "Look, I'm not crazy. I understand that a person coming up to you and saying they know an ancient god that's giving them orders sounds like something a crazy person would say, but --"

I hear what I'm saying. Should I… be worried?

No, not at all. I have tons of proof of HIS existence. And if I was insane, would I really have been able to keep all this secret for so long? Don't think so.

Andre speaks up where I haven't. "Well, I also understand that people can be very adamant in their delusions, so I suppose I can't expect to convince you very easily. Or even at all. But if you're not going to change your mind, then I don't know how you expect to change mine. You might as well just wipe my memory now and leave me alone."

"I'm not gonna do that. You're too valuable."

He rubs the bridge of his nose. "How long is it going to take you to get it? I don't want to have anything to do with your murder cult."

We frown at each other in silence. Internally, though, I'm beginning to worry. Is Andre right here? Is it really fruitless to try and convince him?

Well… I'd be an idiot if I just went and gave up after knowing him for less than twenty-four hours. I have to keep trying.

I take in a deep breath. "We'll just have to see, Andre. Be patient."

"'Be patient'," he mutters. "Fuck off."

I cross my arms to show I'm not going anywhere, but then reconsider. Maybe it would actually be better if I let this cool down.

I sigh. "Alright, I'll fuck off. But only until tomorrow. We'll continue studying the Helixian language and the Helixian way until I'm absolutely sure you're incompatible."

"Gods, fucking… whatever. Just go."

I get up wordlessly, gather my things and head out. "Bye," I say as I'm leaving, but Andre only gives me the stinkeye. As I shut the door behind me, I sigh.

Looks like my lucky find wasn't so lucky after all.

---​
 
Chapter Nine - Philosophy New

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
And we're back. It feels like it's been a while, but apparently it hasn't been much more than a week. Probably has something to do with the fact that I've been having some doubts about the new direction I'm planning (or improvising, in some respects). However, I have freshly also kind of just decided that I need to stop listening to about 90% of my doubts because they're about shit that really doesn't matter as much as I think it does.

Feedback is still welcome and desired! I'd much rather hear people's real opinions instead of the hypothetical worst-case scenario ones I keep making up.

Okay, now on to the chapter itself. Content warning for references to mutilation and schizophrenia, discussion of metaphysics and death, a depiction of a panic attack (or something similar enough) and a violent threat. Enjoy!

---

CHAPTER NINE
Philosophy


---​

Andre didn't seem to be any more excited to see me than he was yesterday. He let me in with as little resistance, though. First thing we did was take off his bandages to let him shower, and I patched him up afterwards like yesterday. After that, I took out the Helixian textbook. We continued to work on the alphabet, and by the end I had him reading out short words, albeit slowly. I was amazed at his immediately perfect rah. He told me it was because he was part Kalosian. I figured it made sense.

For the archeological document of the day, I brought HIS announcement of germ theory since the topic had come up yesterday. He'd moved on from being incredulous to being sort of interested. It was a development I was happy to see. He asked me if I had any more documents on modern knowledge being announced to an ancient audience, and I told him I knew there was a book on mechanics and that some level of atomic theory had been recorded, but that I was told that firsthand by my lord and had no physical evidence of it.

“Well, could I meet this lord of yours?” he asked.

I thought of what happened to the last guy I brought to HIM. “No. HE might kill you.”

“Suit yourself,” he sighed, and I knew he was thinking again about how I was making HIM up. I clenched my teeth, but couldn’t do much else.

Done with Helixian stuff for the day, I asked him what he wanted to do. He said he wanted to go online and take care of some stuff, alone. I let him, and he went on his computer in his bedroom. In the meantime, I read more of his books, trying the ones on drawing this time. It’s interesting to see how they create something so true to life through just lines and basic shapes. A part of me itched to try it myself, but I knew it’d turn out laughably bad and my pride would not be able to take it.

Some time later he emerged from his bedroom and settled on the couch. I put away my book to see him browsing Natuflix for something to watch.

“Can I watch with you?” I asked.

“Only if you don’t give any commentary,” he said.

“My lips are sealed.”

He then chose a movie. It was a thriller named The Raikou. It was set in some foreign country whose name I’d maybe heard once during geography class, and it was about what the police thought was a man-eating raikou but turned out to be a serial killer with a particularly brutal way of dispatching his victims. There was also a lot of drama about the corruption and brutality of the police force, but my main attention was on the serial killer. Even if I knew the writers of the story would have never truly understood how a predator like me thinks, I felt a sense of kinship with the character.

It also reminded me of all the times I’d fantasized about leaving some evidence behind. Taking the corpses of the women I've killed and displaying them in the woods. Maybe carving some writing onto their skin in Helixian. What would they say? Would the detectives be able to decipher the language, maybe with the help of some linguistic expert? Would they piece together that the name of the god SLIL means 'helix'? If so, I'd be in trouble. Everyone in my neighborhood knows that I worship Helix, even if that's just the omanyte.

Well, this is all just a fantasy, anyway. In reality, I can't leave anything behind. My DNA would be all over the corpses from the touching and licking and biting I like to do. If I wanted to get away with the murders after that, I'd have to go off the grid. And while that's another fantasy I've had, it has to stay as just that. I can't abandon HIM. I can't abandon Him, either.

Still… wouldn't it be just amazing to have my crimes go so public that they made a documentary about them? Oh, I would pay good money to see that. I would pay them to make it if it didn't incriminate me and wasn't out of my budget.

Anyway - when the movie ended, I spoke up. "So how'd you like it?"

"What did I say about commentary?" he said in response.

"But the movie's over."

"I still don't want to talk to you about it."

Wanting to keep relations friendly - well, as friendly as they were - I didn't argue further. I asked what Andre was going to do next, and he told me he'd be starting a new painting. I'd already read enough for that day, so I decided I should leave. He seemed relieved that I did.

The next day went similarly. The archeological document I brought him was a speech written for Kohath II to read to troops going to war. Andre took notice of the mention of death and asked me what Helixians thought happened after death. I told him that they were taught they'd only disappear. He expressed his surprise, saying he'd expected my lord to tell them they'd have a good afterlife in exchange for serving under HIM. He hadn't expected HIM to be 'truthful'. I knew HE actually wasn't, as HE had left out the part of infinite suffering, but I didn't want to bring it up. I didn't want to stress Andre out.

Just like the previous day, I let Andre decide what we would do after studying. He just wanted to paint alone, though. I allowed this and mostly just read some more books. Around lunch, I asked him if it was okay if I made omelettes. He said he didn't give a fuck as long as I didn't burn down the apartment. I made two cheese omelettes with some veggies I found in the fridge, then, and called him out to eat. He ate in silence and then thanked me for the food, though I could tell it was humiliating for him.

I left soon after that, figuring that I shouldn't overstay my welcome. It was Monday, so there was also community service later in the day again. Nothing of note happened there. Then Tuesday came and I visited Andre the same way - first tutoring Andre, then reading by myself, then making lunch, then leaving.

Right now, it's Wednesday morning, and it's time I air out my grievances in yet another entry of my journal.

June 5th, 149

I have now visited Andre five times. I have taught him the beginnings of Helixian language and brought him several ancient Helixian documents to help him understand what Helixian everyday life and philosophy were like. Progress on this front has been steady, but I have another worry on my mind.

Andre, as a person, has not warmed up to me. In fact, he wants very little to do with me. To an extent, this is understandable as I do have him under blackmail, but I would have expected him to be glad to meet another one of his kind, one that would not reject him knowing his habit of murder. Instead, he seems to be the one that has rejected me. He has told me that he 'only kills bad people', which is worryingly moral, and he seems to shun me for my crimes, whose exact nature he does not even know yet.

I do not know how I am going to get him to understand that he is supposed to be a predator and view others as undeserving of mercy and compassion. He seems as stubborn as a mareep when it comes to this, but he surely can't be one if he butchers people like a houndoom. Granted, I have not been pressing him on this as strongly as I could have been. I have tried to keep his discomfort to a minimum, hoping to build trust and understanding to aid in the conversion process later, but… perhaps there is simply no time.

No, I do not mean the six months given to me by my lord. I am talking about the seal of honesty expiring. Once the wounds on Andre's back have faded enough, the honesty spell will be broken, and he will be able to tell the police on me without consequences - well, mostly, anyway. I must either convince Andre to join my side or wipe his memories before that has a chance to happen. From what I've seen of Andre's wounds, I estimate that I have only a few days left.

This in mind, I believe I will attempt to push Andre a bit harder. Try to convert him more actively. Bring up the boons of Helixism and especially Bringerhood. Ascension. If he cannot be convinced to abandon his morals based on cold reasoning, perhaps bribing will do the trick. Not ideal, I know, but better than nothing.

Red Akai, High Priest


---​

Telling him about ascension did not make him come around. Instead, he only laughed.

"Sorry," he said, "I don't mean to disrespect your religion" - he most certainly did - "but I don't buy a word of that. It's basic doomsday cult shit I have less than no reason to believe, and even if I did believe it to be possible, I'd never want to take that offer. You want me to bring about a world where psychopaths rule and kill indiscriminately? How would anyone ever feel safe in that world, the psychopaths included? What prevents them from turning on each other? How would anyone work if you'd just get killed in the street? And for the love of the Gods, if I had claws, how would I even wipe my own ass?"

I tried to remind him about the Helixian Code and how Helixians treated other Helixians and tell him how my lord's design would take care of all other problems, but he wasn't listening. He just laughed and asked if I realized that the destruction of infrastructure would mean there would no longer be indoor plumbing. I told him that basic infrastructure would be protected and he told me that a violent takeover was incompatible with that and that I needed a reality check. He then quieted and earnestly apologized because that was offensive to say to a schizophrenic, which just made me even angrier. All of these documents I'd brought him and he still dismissed everything I said as the ravings of a lunatic. I had to cut things short and leave because I didn't want to say or do something in my rage that would come back to bite me in the ass later.

I still had a few hours until the rehab group, so I had time to think of a new approach. It took some time, but I settled on actually leaning on the resources I had and asking them for advice. I would have to be vague and lie in a couple of places, sure, but surely their suggestions would apply at least to some extent? Right?

Well, I'm about to find out, considering I'm at the rehab group right now and I can sense an opening approaching.

"Okay. Who would want to go next?" asked Malaya, and I raised my hand immediately. "Yes, Red?"

"I need some advice," I tell them.

"Well, tell us what the problem is and we'll give our own opinions."

"Yeah, our final wisdom," Kristoff says, referring to the fact that this is his and Jamal's last time.

I nod, then take a deep breath, ready to unload the lie I've been constructing for the past half hour. "So… I met this guy," I start, "at a hobby I do. We talked, and it turned out we had a lot in common. I'd really like to be friends with him since I can talk to him about stuff I can't talk to anyone else about. But then I brought up a topic that I like to think I'm pretty knowledgeable on, and he started disagreeing about something I know to be true. He got really mad, too, like what I posited was fundamentally opposed to his worldview. So, after we argued for a while, I left so that the situation wouldn't get worse."

I cross my arms. "But, like, I really like this guy. He's unlike anyone else I've ever met, in a good way. I can't let this disagreement get between us, but I also can't compromise on my views. It would be against my moral compass. So… any advice?"

There's a short silence. Then Jamal speaks up. "What was this argument about?"

"I… don't wanna say. It's kind of a touchy subject."

"Well, it's kind of hard to give advice when we don't know what exactly is being argued about. Was it political? Religious? Just some general fact about the world?"

"It was… kind of all of those."

"Hm. Well, I don't think you're gonna be able to change his mind. I think, as unfortunate as it is, you're gonna have to let him go."

No. I can't do that.

Jamal sees my expression. "Sorry, but it's for the better. Even if you managed to smooth things over by never bringing that subject back up again, you'll have to walk on eggshells every time you're around him. That shit's stressful. You don't want that."

I sigh. This isn't what I wanted to hear. "Well…" I start. "What if doing that allowed for me to develop a bond with him, and for him to get attached to me? Then he'd feel bad about disagreeing and try to see things from my perspective to understand me, and maybe come around that way?"

"No offense, but that seems like wishful thinking," Kristoff says. "People will stick to their beliefs to the bitter end unless something really major happens to them to cause them to reevaluate their views. A buddy having a different opinion doesn't really cut it."

"I'd like to try for longer before I give up," I say. "I promise I'll let it go if he doesn't come around in a week." A week is about how long I figure I have time with Andre before his wounds heal, anyway. "In the meantime, though… how can I build a connection? How can I build trust?"

"Well, first of all, you gotta be honest," says Mei this time. "Show you're worthy of being trusted. One way to do that is to open up about some personal experiences - but you should only do this if you believe he's not gonna betray your trust."

Being honest… ngh, that's difficult in this scenario…

Or is it? Is there really a good reason for me to keep my crimes a secret from Andre anymore? I kept them from him before because I wanted him to be comfortable, but that hasn't really worked out. I mean, he's gonna have to find out about the gorier parts of being a Helixian at some point anyway since my lord will want him to be able to kill for HIM. Besides, he's already thinking the worst of me, right?

If I tell him the truth about my crimes and he says he's going to tell the cops despite the danger that it poses to him - or he's unable to say that he won't - I'll just cut things short and wipe his memory then. No need to waste any more time with him. Yeah, I have limited time to search for the Bringer, I keep that in mind again.

"I could try that," I say. "Thanks for the advice. Someone else can go now."

The room quiets for a moment again, but Mei soon speaks up, something about her studies. I sink into my thoughts, preparing for tomorrow…

---

Andre

---​

I look at the corner of my phone screen. 11:56. He's late. Part of me dares to wish he's not coming. That he got hit by a car and died or something.

The doorbell rings. I sigh. No such luck.

I get off my bed and go to answer the door. He's on the other side, smiling a greeting as usual. I don't smile back.

"Come in," I just say, and he comes in. I close the door behind him and follow him into the kitchen, where he sits down by the table and takes off his backpack… but he's not taking out his book. Instead, he's staring at me.

I sit down opposite him. "What's with the stare?"

He breathes in and out. "I was thinking we could start today a little differently." He grabs the amulet around his neck. “If I were to take this off and let you ask me anything, you wouldn’t go to the cops about anything I said, would you?”

I blink. He’s actually open to taking it off?

“I wouldn’t,” I say. “No matter how horrible your crimes, I can’t go to the cops without endangering myself.”

I wonder briefly if I should endanger myself. If this guy’s crimes really are that reprehensible, my duty would be to get him off the streets even if it meant getting locked up myself. It’s not like I can kill scumbags when I’m unable to lie anyway.

…But let’s find out his crimes first.

“Good,” he says. He takes off the amulet and hands it to me. “Ask me anything, then.”

"Hold on a sec, I need to take this further away," I tell him and get up to hang it on the coat rack in the hall. I return and take a seat. His aura, now perceptible, is quivering in pale violet apprehension.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask.

"I want you to trust me."

"Trust you?" I laugh.

"You can trust what I have to say if you can see my aura, can't you?"

"Hm. I suppose so."

He sighs. "Just ask me some questions."

"Fine," I say, thinking of my most burning questions. "Have you killed people?"

"Yes."

So he has. "How did you kill them?"

"I stalked them, abducted them and tortured them until they bled out."

Fuck. That's even worse than I imagined. This guy is… a complete and utter psychopath. A sick bastard. And he's right in front of me, in my home. How could I have thought, even for a moment, that I was safe?

"Come on," he says. "You've spent several days with me by now, and I haven't hurt you in any way."

"You cut up my back."

"While you were out cold. Trust me, it's much nicer that way."

I swallow. Gods, what a horrible person.

And I'm the same.

“Now that I’ve told you this, do you intend to go to the cops?” he asks.

I’d like to. I’d really, really like to. But I know that if I say ‘yes’ he’ll forcibly put me under somehow and wipe my memory, perhaps even kill me. I have to commit to not going to the cops if I want to be able to say ‘no’ truthfully and make it past this point. I can't change my mind after, either, or I might get that horrible headache I got before when slipping past a lie.

His apprehension grows. I can see him tense up. I better answer fast.

“No, I won’t go to the cops," I say.

His tension deflates. “Good.”

I take a moment to decide on my next question. Part of me doesn't want to know any more about his atrocities, but that's a cowardly part. I need to know. I owe that to his victims.

"Do you feel any guilt about your actions?" I ask.

"No."

"Stupid question," I mutter. "Why does your lord want you to kill?"

"It is his way of making sure I value his will more than the lives of the people around me."

He really is committed to this lord of his. I need to find out more about him while his amulet is still off.

"How did you meet your lord?" I ask.

He takes a deep breath in. "It's a long story. Do you want the short version or the long version?"

"Long version. I don't want you to try and abstract away any secrets."

He nods, then blinks slowly, staring past me. "Do you know about the Twitch?"

The Twitch? Oh, that might explain some things. "I've heard of it."

He crosses his arms. "In any case, it's a phenomenon where a group of spirits possess an individual and take control of his body. Through some distortion they bring, they change the world around them, shifting the perception and opinions of other people to keep up a narrative, such as a journey through a trainer circuit. No one knows where they come from and why they do what they do. My theory is that it's just for their entertainment."

His apprehension flares up a few times as he speaks, like a sputtering tailpipe.

"Did you…" I start.

"Yes," he says. "I had it. When I was twelve."

So that's it. The Twitch must have triggered his schizophrenia, if not caused it through some brain damage. I hear possession victims can succumb to psychosis afterwards.

"Did the spirits tell you to worship Helix?"

"Yes and no. They told me to worship his mortal incarnation, an omanyte I had revived from a fossil, later an omastar. I kept this up for three years until…" A lash of blue sorrow. "Until he died in a battle. But then my lord spoke to me, telling me he could be reincarnated. I tried it, and it was true. The omanyte remembered me."

So he cloned his omanyte friend again? And he claims he could remember him? It had to be desperation that convinced him so. He had already heard his lord's voice, after all. His schizophrenia was fully in action.

Oh Gods, this kid. What a miserable story. Mind broken at such a young age, leading to a life of delusion…

But does that excuse the crimes he’s committed? He’s still together enough to plan his killings ahead and execute them. He understands their consequences and he feels no guilt… but that could also be part of some mental illness. He might be disassociating from his environment so deeply that he doesn’t feel like the people he’s killing are real.

For anyone else, I’d say his crimes warrant death, but… I don’t know. The mentally ill have been historically persecuted to inhumane lengths, and I’d hate to contribute to that. What this guy needs is to be put in a mental hospital where he can get the help and medication he direly needs and society can be safe from his violence.

Or you could perform a mercy kill.

No. He deserves help. Besides, I can’t kill him with this seal on my back. If the cops came asking about him, I wouldn’t be able to lie.

Oh, actually --

"How do I neutralize the seal of honesty?" I ask.

He huffs. "I'm not telling you that."

"I thought I could ask you anything."

"It doesn't mean I'll answer." He sits up straight. "Can I finish my story?"

"Go right ahead."

He sighs. "Alright. My lord continued to speak to me after that. He told me he knew I was not like everyone else, with how I didn't feel guilt, and he explained that it was because I was further evolved, a predator. He told me about the Helixian Kingdom, and he told me how I could attain godhood. He had me murder and cannibalize eight women --"

I grimace in disgust. "Cannibalize?"

He rolls his eyes. "It's really not that weird in the end. Plenty of animals cannibalize each other."

"Don't you get diseases doing that?"

"Not when you have a god looking out for you, preventing you from contracting any."

I bring my fingers to my forehead. "Okay. Cannibalism. What else?"

"He also had me train my body to be the Bringer." He frowns, and more sorrow flares. "Until I found out I wasn't fit to be the Bringer."

"Why is that?"

Green. Embarrassment. "Because I had an attachment I could not sever."

"What attachment?"

He unfolds his arms and fidgets with his fingers. "The omanyte. My… my obsession never faded. I still…" He quiets, embarrassment strengthening.

"You still what?"

He looks at me, then looks away. "Love him."

Love?

"So you do love someone."

His jaw tenses.

"So much for being above primitive social instincts," I mutter.

He screws his eyes shut. "Yes, I know."

"Well…" I cross my arms. "I have bad news for you. I have plenty of attachments and I'm not giving them up. I'm even worse a fit for the Bringer than you."

He sighs. "I was worried you might say that."

There's a brief silence. I can sense turbulence in his aura. He's thinking hard about something. And now his aura's turning a deeper violet. A familiar violet. Silky smooth and cool. Fear, mortal fear. It's beautiful as always. I didn’t expect to see that today…

Red then looks into my eyes. "There's something you should know."

"What's that?"

His aura lashes. "Death isn't disappearing."

I raise a brow. "Oh?" What crazy shit is he gonna try to convince me of now?

"A soul does not disappear when it dies," he says. "It keeps existing after its connection to the body is severed. It keeps… experiencing. But it has no eyes or ears to sense with, no brain to think with. Nothing to filter raw existence. And it…" The violet deepens again. It sends a wave of pleasure through my body. "It's forever."

I blink to reorient myself. "Right…" I start. "Sorry, but I don't believe that. I don't even believe in souls. Death is nothing, not 'raw existence'. Without a brain, you can't experience anything."

"No," he says, specks of red anger amidst the violet. "This is the truth about death. He told me… my lord told me so, and he is a god that's been there since the beginning of time. He knows souls, and he can see them persisting after death."

I tilt my head. "Okay, where do the souls go after death, then?"

"That's just it. They aren't anywhere. Their location is… undefined. Yet my lord can still sense them. They're in some kind of limbo."

"...I'm not sure I understand this," I say. "How exactly do you define what a soul is?"

"A soul of a person - or any animal with a sophisticated enough nervous system - is their internal experience. Only beings with souls can feel things, experience things. Beings without souls have no one inside. They would be nothing more than machines made of flesh."

"So… consciousness?"

"Almost. A soul still exists and is active when its vessel is unconscious. However, this is distinct from death as the vessel still provides explicit non-experience. In death, there is no such buffer. It is…" Another surge of fear. "Horrible."

"...Right," I say. "Well, I already said it, but I don't believe in souls. I think we are just machines made of flesh, but that doesn't prevent us from having internal experience. I think consciousness - or unconsciousness - is just an emergent property of certain neural structures. And I think that it's impossible not to have internal experience in a body that is materially the same."

He sighs. "Really? You think a bunch of chemicals can create something as infinite as the human consciousness?"

"We might not understand how, but yes. It makes more sense to me than assuming there's some kind of nebulous energy that's responsible for it instead."

He doesn't respond. He seems deep in thought. Somehow, though, I get the feeling he's not seriously considering what I've said, but is rather contemplating his next move.

"I suppose you think ghosts are lifeforms made of spectral matter and energy, then," he then says.

"Yeah, pretty much. Do you disagree?"

"Well, how the hell do you explain them retaining memories from their past lives?"

"That's a mystery to science, yes, but it doesn't prove the existence of souls. Memories are well established as being stored in the brain, anyway. The ghosts must simply be able to copy them over somehow."

"Memories are usually stored in the brain, yes, but the reincarnation process attaches them to the soul temporarily. This can only happen if the soul is captured before it loses location upon death, though. It is placed in a sort of… virtual vessel before its spectral body has formed and is able to receive the soul alongside its memories. And then, for metaphysical efficiency, the memories attached to the soul are deleted."

I blink. "You've lost me."

"I can draw a diagram."

I raise a palm. "No need. I… already know I'm not going to buy it."

He sighs again. He leans onto one elbow, then another, sticking his fingers through his hair. His aura is growing turbulent again.

"Are you… okay?" I ask.

It takes a while before he responds, still staying in the same position. "Are you really never going to believe me?"

"No. I'm sorry."

He's quiet for some time again.

"Sorry, I'm just…" he starts. "I… don't wanna die."

I frown. "Well, not many people do, but we just have to make peace with that. But, well, with what actually happens, not this nightmare scenario you've convinced yourself of."

"No, I have a way to avoid it," he says. "If I bring my lord a new Bringer, he will reward me with immortality. But if I don't…"

The violet storm strengthens. I can see him beginning to shake. I can hear his breathing getting more frantic.

I've loved to see many a bastard in this situation. I've breathed in their pain. I've also seen innocents in panic mode, and the aesthetic pleasure their suffering gave me made me sick. Which one is happening right now… I can't tell.

"Hey, uh…" I begin. "I'm sorry. I can tell this is really distressing for you. We don't have to keep talking about this."

"How else am I gonna make you understand?" he says, voice breaking. "I have to make you understand. I have to… bring him a Bringer. Otherwise, I'll wither… and die… and spend eternity in…" He's out of breath. His aura is out of control. I think he's having a panic attack.

"It's okay," I say. "Just breathe. Deep breaths."

He takes his hands off his head and looks at me. It's such a pitiful look. If I didn't have my aura sense, I'd think he was just pretending to try and manipulate me, but… this emotion is genuine.

He then closes his eyes and forces his breathing rhythm to change. He's slowly taking in the air, holding his breath, then letting it out even more slowly. It seems to be causing him pain, but he's pushing through it.

I watch as he repeats this many, many times. I don't want to break his focus, so I don't say anything. Gradually, the violet in his aura fades to a paler tone, and the wrinkles on his face smooth out.

After a few minutes, he swallows and opens his eyes again. He lets his breathing become normal again. He looks at me, still vulnerable, but no longer suffering.

"Thanks," he says quietly, "and sorry. I don't… I don't usually get like that. I think it's because I was possessed recently. I'm told things like this can happen…"

I suppose that's one subject we can move on to that isn't as upsetting to him. "What's the deal with that possession thing, anyway? How did you end up possessed?"

He pauses, then lets out a hollow laugh. "It's kind of a funny story. You see, one of the women I killed came back to life as a yamask and I put her mask on my face in order to kill her. I thought I managed to off her right after, but that was just an illusion. She stuck around in my head until I got lucky and had an exorcism performed on me. In fact…" He shows his left hand and faint scars that read 'EXORCISM'. "This is what made the difference. I carved it into my hand to remember to research exorcisms, and this priest guy noticed it and put the pieces together."

"Ah, I see," I say. For just a moment, I'd forgotten he was a murderer. Then, I frown. "Wait a minute. Why does that story sound familiar?"

He chuckles. "Because I lied that I'd read a book like that the night we met. 'The Killer'. You said the writer wasn't creative with titles."

"Ah, right. I remember now."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out. The violet is even paler now.

"Listen…" I start. "You already know I think you're schizophrenic, right?"

He nods. "Yeah, unfortunately."

"Is there any way I could get you to talk to a psychiatrist about all this?"

He shakes his head. "No. I'm not crazy. I have seen proof of what my lord has told me, so I know he is real. And I can't tell anyone about him. They'd lock me away."

I sigh. "See, that's the thing," I say. "I think you should be locked up. It would not only be for the good of everyone around you, but you yourself."

He sighs as well. "I really wish I could prove to you somehow that my lord exists," he says. "But the only way I can think of would be to bring you to him, and… I have a feeling you wouldn't survive. Not with the attitudes you have now, anyway."

Silence falls upon the room.

“Well, what are you going to do now?” I ask. “Are you going to nullify my seal of honesty and make me forget like you said you would if I wasn’t suitable?”

He stares at me for a while. “No,” he then says.

I glare at him. “Why not? You’re just wasting both our time.”

He leans in. “Look, you’re the only one I’ve been able to tell all this stuff,” he says. “I don’t wanna go back to being alone with this.”

I hold my glare. “So, what, you’re just gonna keep me like this forever?”

He sighs again. “No, you’re right, I can’t do it forever. I just want… a little longer. A little longer with someone like me.”

I clench my teeth. “Your aura tells me that’s as good as indefinite. And I already told you, I’m not like you.”

“You’re more like me than anyone else I’ve met,” he says. “While I still don’t understand how you can kill and still cling to morality, you still kill. That means we have something in common.”

I sigh.

“Look, Red…” I start. “Why don't we come at this from a slightly different angle. You believe your god is real. Let's assume he is.”

"He is," he mutters.

"How do you know he's telling you the truth?" I ask. "About anything?"

"Well, I told you. The archeological --"

"Okay, sure, let's assume his kingdom really existed as well. But what about the promises he's made you? What about this 'truth' he posits to you about death? How do you know he's being honest?"

Red frowns. "He is not lying to me."

"How do you know that, though?" I say. "Isn't it very convenient for him to tell you death is this unimaginably horrible thing that you simply can not afford to let happen to yourself when the only way to avoid it is to do exactly what he wants?"

His expression wavers, but then it returns, though it's… off. "He is not lying to me."

"Are you really thinking about this?" I continue. "Are you really looking at this situation with a healthy amount of skepticism, or are you --"

Something in his eyes and aura cracks. He stands up with such force that it knocks over the chair he was sitting in.

"The Lord of Predators does not lie to his high priest," he growls. "You will still your tongue, infidel, or I shall tear it out."

What?

What the fuck?

New plan. I'm not going to point out how this 'Lord of Predators' gave his followers a different story about death before. I'm going to still my tongue because I like it and I want to keep it.

Realization flashes in Red's eyes. "I'm sorry," he says, seeming normal again. "I shouldn't have said that. I don't wanna hurt you. I just… I don't like to hear him insulted like that." He closes his hands into fists, but still appears abashed. "I'll… I'll just leave."

He grabs his backpack and makes his way to the hall. He grabs his amulet off the coat rack and puts it back on, cloaking his aura. I wonder if he’s ever gonna take it off for me again.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” I ask. I need to know what to prepare for.

“I… don’t know.”

“Surely you’ll be back at some point?” I raise a brow. “I can’t live with this seal forever.”

He pauses. “Yeah, yeah,” he then says. “I’ll be back within a week.”

“And will you nullify it then?”

“...We’ll see.” He opens the door. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” I respond, and he leaves.

I listen to his steps recede down the stairwell.

I sigh.

This kid is fucked up.

---​
 
Chapter Ten - Doubt New

canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Premium
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
  6. omanyte
  7. hizzap
Two weeks? Yeah, that's fair enough. I do have somewhat of a backlog now, by the way - I'll probably be uploading mostly when I'm motivated. Since I don't believe there are up-to-date readers either way, it probably won't be a problem for anyone.

Anyway, here's Chapter 10. Since I estimate this story to be under 20 chapters, this means that we're most likely past the halfway point now. Content warning for violence, talk of mental illness, drugging, transphobia and a reference to sexual assault. Enjoy.

---

CHAPTER TEN
Doubt

Red


---​

'The Lord of Predators does not lie to HIS high priest. You will still your tongue, infidel, or I shall tear it out.'

That's what I said. Those are the words that left my mouth.

Why did I say that? Why did I say it like that? I know I've had thoughts like that before, but I've never… lost my filter like that.

I was just so angry. But in some kind of cold way. It felt like the most important thing in the world for me to defend HIS honor. Well, I mean, it's pretty damn important, I know, but…

But what?

It just feels like… like that wasn't me. Like that came from somewhere else.

Where would it have come from?

Well, where do you think?

Are you suspecting HIM of having tampered with your mind?

I don't know what else it could be.

Yourself. You are highly loyal to HIM. It makes sense for you to get defensive.

Yeah, but… 'still your tongue, infidel'?

You can be dramatic sometimes.

I suppose that's true.

It is. This is nothing to worry about. Forget about this.

Fine…

I sigh and look out the window of the bus. I hold that gaze and watch as the buildings of Viridian grow sparser and sparser until the buildings of Pallet come in and become more numerous again. What occupies my mind, though, is the exact thing that I was supposed to ignore.

And that continues for the rest of the day. Trip to the grocery store, community service, traveling on the bus, spending time at home. All pass in a haze as my mind paces in circles.

At eight in the evening, I decide enough is enough and slip downstairs to write in my journal. I pick up the pen and begin to put down the letters.

June 6th, 149

I regret to say that Andre will not be the Bringer.

This may seem like a hasty decision after writing only yesterday that I would keep trying, but I swear that I have given this the appropriate amount of thought. Andre simply does not want to submit to my lord no matter how wise of a decision it would be. Not even death scares him into wanting to do it. He staunchly believes it is only disappearance and will not listen to me when I tell him it is much worse.

This, I suppose, means that I will have to resume my search for Bringer candidates. I will continue to visit bars and seek out predators. I will also have to wipe Andre's memory at some point, but I still want to spend some time with him before that.

Now, this would seem like a good place to end the entry, but… there is something else on my mind.

Dear journal, I ask you not to judge me too harshly for what I am about to write.


I stare at the paper. The pen in my hand subtly shakes. I reconsider. But then I press on.

I have begun to have doubts.

I have not doubted HIM since HE saw me through my first murder. I have been able to put my trust in HIM time and time again, and I have always found that trust to be well placed. Yet something about that strikes me as disconcerting. Why has the notion of being cheated not even occurred to me in the past three years? Why have I been so gullible?


I pause again.

…Perhaps I am overreacting. Perhaps this trust is simply normal. After all, I doubt I have ever suspected Him of tricking me. Or Fonz. Or Abe. But those people… are simple. Forgive me, my lord, but You are. It is one reason I am so fond of You.

I try to think of what to write next.

Anyway… I suppose this is something I will be ruminating on for a while. I know I cannot go ask HIM directly - HE made it clear HE did not want to see me before I had another Bringer candidate to bring HIM. And I do not know if asking the one who I am doubting is going to solve anything anyway.


I sigh.

Well, that is all I have for now. I hope that, by the next time I write an entry, I will have found a replacement for Andre.

Red Akai, High Priest


Yeah. That's good enough, I think.

I'm just gonna go watch some TV now. Get my mind off things. Escape into another world. A clearer, more certain world.

---

Andre

---​

His eyes stare deep inside me, even from all the way over there. It reaches past my barriers, reaches my very core. What he says next is addressed to the real me.

Only I can't understand it. It's in Helixian, more advanced than what he's managed to teach me so far.

His aura is cold, colorless. So unlike how it usually is. No joy, no fear, no anger. Just… purpose. It's creepy.

And then he's right in front of me. And then his hands are around my neck, squeezing. A grin splits his face. He speaks again, this time in Tohjoan. There is a dark resonance in his voice.

"You will be ours."

I wake up, breathing heavily. I stay like that for a while. Then, when my pulse has normalized, I roll over and check the clock. Nine minutes before the alarm in my phone would go off.

I get up and remove the alarm from my phone. Might as well get up now. I sure as hell don't want to go back to that dream.

As I go through my morning chores, I sink into thought.

I don't really think that Red's being controlled by something else, do I? The simpler explanation is just that he's delusional and prone to outbursts. Even if his latest outburst had him talking entirely differently…

You know… yeah. On second thought, he very well could be possessed. It could be that the ghost he talked about possessing him never left. Plenty of books and the internet say that ghosts possessing a living vessel have their auras hidden and are shielded from the warding off effects of aura-neutralizing objects, so that explains why I wouldn't be able to sense the ghost and how it would be able to possess someone who's worn an amulet afterwards.

Is there a way for me to tell, though? I don't recall any options outside of an actual exorcism. Should I convince Red to let me perform an exorcism on him? Would I really be able to do it right? Could I get an actual exorcist to do it without spilling my secrets?

And then there's the issue of Red saying he'll wipe my memory once he's done with me. At first, I thought that would have been a relief, not having to remember this terrible past week, but now… I can't just let this go. I can't let Red get away and continue killing. I have to keep an eye on him, even if I ended up not being able to do anything about it. I owe that to the potential victims he'll have.

But wouldn't it be better if I just went to the cops and got him arrested despite it likely revealing my secrets as well?

I think about how my family would react to news of their little Andre being exposed as a serial killer. How shocked they would be. How horrified. How broken. I… I can't do that to them. And, regrettably, I also have to admit that I'm just simply not done living a free life.

Ugh. Is there any way for me to keep Red from killing more?

Well… he's very attached to me. There's no denying that. I'm not blind to the subtle waves of magenta arousal coming off of him whenever he's bandaging my back, either. So… oh, this is disgusting, but… could I actually offer myself in exchange for…

No. I don't want it to come to that. I'd rather… I'd rather just ask him without providing anything in return. Or maybe say that if he kills someone and I find out, I might go to the cops. I actually might. I'm too much of a coward to do it now, but if he kills someone, the guilt may very well push me over the threshold.

I sigh. How the fuck did things go this wrong? Is it karma for my murders? For enjoying them, as I've been confirmed to do by this bloody seal?

The doorbell rings. What? It's way too early for Red to show up. Unless he decided to change things up… if I wasn't even sure he'd come back in a while, I suppose anything's possible.

I make my way to the door and look through the peephole. Not Red, but Sakura? She seems to be in good spirits…

But I can't talk to her. I might reveal that I'm being extorted, and then she wouldn't let that go, and then she'd end up finding out about the real me… fuck. Could I pretend like I'm not here? No, she's already heard my footsteps, I'm sure. Damn it. I have to get her to leave with words.

"Hi, Sakura," I say through the door. "What are you doing here?"

There's confusion on her face and in her aura, probably because I haven't let her in and given her a big hug yet. "Oh, I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to drop by to say hello. Is this a bad time?"

I want to say it is, but would that be a lie? I have plenty of time on my hands. I have to think of something else…

"Uh, well…" I start. "I'm just… I just can't really see anyone right now."

"Oh." She pauses. "Are you okay?"

Am I okay? No. Not at all. But… "I don't really want to talk about it."

She frowns with deepening concern. "Are you sure? You know it's not good to isolate."

"I know." Believe me, I'd like nothing more than someone I could talk to. "I just… need you to respect my decision right now." And in the future. I don't even know how long this situation is going to last.

She stands there for a moment, not saying anything, until she responds again. "Okay. I'll, uh, get out of your hair." She pockets her hands. "I hope you feel better soon."

"I hope so too," I sigh.

"Well, goodbye."

"Goodbye."

She leaves.

I lean my forehead against the door.

Gods, if you actually do exist, have mercy on me.

---

Red

---​

I press the doorbell, and the chime rings out. Some time later, Andre comes to open the door with a tired expression. I feel like he could stand to try to appear even a little bit happy to see me, but I suppose I can't blame him with everything I've done to him.

"Looks like you did come back," he says. “Good. I’d begun to worry that you wouldn’t be returning.”

"No, I wouldn't leave you hanging like that," I say, stepping in as he gives me space. I take off my shoes before pausing. Do I want to take off my amulet as well? Well, it would make Andre more comfortable. And I want him to be comfortable with me.

I take off the amulet and hang it on the coat rack, then bring my backpack to the table. "So," I begin, "I should let you know that I don't have any document to show you this time. There's no point in teaching you Helixian now that you're no longer a Bringer candidate. I'm gonna need my textbook back, too."

“Right. Let me get that.” Andre fetches the book from one of his shelves and hands it to me. I slip it into my backpack.

"So," he continues, "if we're not going to study, what are we going to do?"

"Well, first off, I should let you shower," I say. "You probably didn't do so yesterday since I wasn't there to replace your bandages."

His eyes widen in realization. "Oh. Right. Honestly, the whole thing slipped my mind… I'll go do that now."

He heads to the bathroom, and I wait until he comes out, hair wet and messy and a towel around his waist. He retreats to his bedroom, and I seize the moment to fetch his first aid kit from his bathroom. We then make our way to the couch, Andre with his towel replaced by a pair of jeans. I take a good look at his wounds. They really do look like they'll make the seal expire soon. Damn. Maybe I should have made the wounds deeper originally. Though then Andre would have liked me even less.

I finish bandaging him up and let him put on a shirt. He returns to the couch, now wearing his glasses again, and looks at me.

"Red… I think we need to talk," he says.

Talk. About… my outburst yesterday, surely. Or maybe something else? Regardless… "Okay. What's on your mind?"

"We've both probably been wondering just what the hell happened yesterday."

I sigh. "Yeah."

There's a brief pause before he continues. "That exorcism you had… are you sure that it worked?"

"Huh? Of course. The ghost is gone."

"Where is she now?"

"Dead. Something in a seal I'd drawn on my wrist made the process go wrong."

"So… she just disappeared?"

"Yeah."

"You don't think she might have… stuck around somehow?"

I raise a brow. "You think she might be the reason I acted the way I did?"

"Yeah, I mean… it's worth considering, right?"

I huff. "Nah. She hated my lord. If anything, she tried to convince me that HE wasn't real. That I'd made HIM up."

Andre holds a stare at me.

"Well, she wasn't fucking right. She was just trying to get under my skin."

"Of course," Andre mutters. "So… okay. Let's say that ghost really is gone. Couldn't there be another? Couldn't this god of yours have been a ghost all along?"

"That makes no sense. How would HE have survived that exorcism? HE had been with me for three years before that."

"Right…" Andre pauses. "Could it be some kind of… advanced ghost? One that isn't exorcisable just by a basic ritual?"

"HE isn't a ghost. HE is a god. HE allowed my omanyte friend to reincarnate with His memories intact. Just a ghost wouldn't be able to do that."

"Hm. What memories does your omanyte remember? Are you sure He couldn't just be trying to please you by saying He remembers the things you expect of Him?"

"I've tested this. He remembers things only He could. I'm not stupid, Andre. I made sure my lord was telling the truth about HIS powers before I started trusting HIM."

"...Hmm. Okay." Andre sighs. "Well, you're not gonna like this, but I think the only option left is that you're just schizophrenic."

I groan. "Again with this?"

"Well, try to see this from my perspective," Andre says. "You know this person that no one else knows. You claim that HE's a god. You describe witnessing things that shouldn't be possible, like a clone remembering their predecessor's life. And you're painfully adamant about it all."

"Andre, come on. This insistence on my insanity is insulting."

"But you already know you're not normal," Andre says. "I'm not normal either. We're both able to kill. Premeditate it, then execute it, then dispose of the evidence. We're serial killers, Red. We don't have healthy minds."

"Well, how would you feel if I insisted you were schizophrenic?"

"If I was talking about things that seem counter to reality, I'd understand it."

I sigh. "Look," I say. "Do you know what a black swanna event is?"

"No?"

"It's when a long-held assumption is proven wrong by a new discovery. It's named so because people used to think all swanna were white. But then the continent of Ulimaroa was discovered, and there were black swanna there."

"Okay. How does this relate?"

"You think something like my lord can't exist. But what if HE did? What if your understanding of the world was simply incomplete? Can't you entertain that thought even for a moment?"

Andre quiets. It seems that he actually is thinking. "I can't, Red," he then says, and I deflate. "Someone could just as well say that swanna can evolve backwards and we just haven't seen it happen yet."

I take a deep breath and let it out. Andre just doesn't get it.

"Well," Andre continues, "what do you think that outburst you had was, then?"

I think about my response. "Either it was just me being weird," I say, "or… or HE has…"

Heretic. Heretic. Heretic.

"Done something to you?" Andre suggests.

"...Maybe."

"If that's the case… how do you feel about that?"

I grasp my hand. How would I feel about that? I feel like I've been stuck just denying it so much that I haven't really explored the possibility. And that one… aspect of me doesn't want me to think about it, either…

Heretic. Heretic!

No. I have to process this. I have to let myself doubt, even just for a while.

"I… I would feel…" The words come slowly, but they do come. "Betrayed."

"Well, you can hardly be blamed. No one wants to be lied to. Well, in most situations."

"It's just that I… I thought… I thought HE would never do that to me. You know, 'the Lord of Predators does not lie to HIS high priest'. That's what… I thought."

I pause, staring at the coffee table.

"Then again… I don't know if I've ever directly asked HIM if HE has tampered with my mind."

"Red…" Andre begins, concerned, but I cut him off.

"If HE hasn't promised that HE wouldn't, then HE hasn't lied, has HE?" I look to Andre. He looks… disappointed.

"There is such a thing as 'lying by omission'," he says.

"I guess, but… isn't it my own fault that I've never confronted HIM about it? That I haven't specifically disallowed it?"

"It's not, Red. Sapient beings have the right to psychic autonomy. No one is allowed to manipulate your mind without your explicit permission."

"I mean… ages ago, HE asked me for permission to enter my mind in order to show me visions. Maybe that counts?"

Andre shakes his head. "No. Receiving visions isn't the same as one's cognitive processes being altered."

I cross my arms. "People change each other's cognitive processes all the time," I mumble. "You're trying to change mine now."

Andre sighs. "You know that's not the same thing."

I wish it was the same thing. I wish I could excuse what HE has done. I wish I didn't have to be upset, to feel betrayed, to… to fear what else HE might do.

He has the right. You belong to HIM.

I… I do. That's right.

Did you really think the Lord of Predators would be above manipulation? You already know that is a desirable trait in a Helixian. Of course their god makes use of it as well.

I just didn't think…

You were a fool. But that is alright. HE wanted you to be.

But what does that mean for death? Is it really as HE says? Or is it what HE told HIS kingdom it was like? What is the truth?

The truth is meaningless as long as you get your immortality.


But how do I know I'll get my immortality?

Oh. Oh Gods. I shouldn't have thought that. No, no. Now I have another deadly worry to deal with.

"Are you okay?" Andre asks. "Your aura…"

Right. I guess he must have sensed a spike in terror.

"I just…" I swallow. "I just started wondering if HE really will make me immortal."

Andre gives a sympathetic look. Even though he must hate me, even though he thinks I'm crazy. It strikes me how odd that is.

"Well…" he begins. "If HE only promised you that to manipulate you, then doesn't it seem likely HE would have also lied about the nature of death? To make immortality something you simply must have?"

I guess… at least, I hope so. If HE lied about immortality but death also really was eternal torment…

"Take it easy," Andre says. I notice I've begun to tremble.

I look into Andre's eyes again. I look down at his hands. I grab the one nearer to me. He flinches, but allows it.

I meet his gaze again, squeezing his hand. "Please," I say, my voice almost a whisper. "Tell me that death is peaceful."

He blinks, then gives a sad smile. "It is, Red. You don't have to fear it."

He sounds so sure. He sounds so convincing.

But he's wrong.

The infidel is wrong.

Andre pulls away his hand and recoils in alarm. What?

His expression calms slightly as the seconds pass and I don't do whatever he thought I was going to do.

"Why did you do that?" I ask.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Your aura just surged the same way it did when you had your outburst. I was scared that you'd…"

I frown. "Attack you? Andre, I wouldn't do that."

He gives me a doubtful look. Well, I guess I did cut up his back.

Oh, wait. Right. The wounds. The expiration of the seal. I sigh.

"What?" Andre asks. Nothing gets past him, I swear.

"Well…" I start. "I just think… I should wipe your memory soon. I should let you get back to your life." My intentions aren't that pure, but maybe Andre won't mind a little deception in my aura.

"Oh." Andre shifts his position. "Well, I did also want to talk to you about that."

"How so?"

"I don't want to lose my memories," he says. "I want to keep knowing about you. About your crimes."

I frown. "That's not possible."

"Why not? Just keep the seal of honesty active. I've survived with it so far. And you said the Helixian Kingdom was going to return anyway, right? After that, it doesn't matter if I expose your crimes or not, so you can nullify the seal without worry."

That would work otherwise, Andre, but you don't know that the seal just expires when the wounds have healed enough. If I wanted to keep myself safe until ascension, I'd have to keep retracing the seal, and you surely wouldn't agree to that. Even if I managed to strongarm you into it, you could just flee and hide until it expired again, and then go to the cops.

"What are you worried about?" he asks. "I haven't told on you yet. I've promised I won't, and you know that was truthful. I can just promise you again and again."

It is true that if I managed to make him promise not to flee after I told him the real mechanics of the seal, I could be moderately confident that he wouldn't expose me.

I can already test that now.

"If I told you how to nullify the seal of honesty, would you promise me that you wouldn't do it?" I ask.

He pauses to think. He thinks some more. Then, he replies. "Yes. On one condition."

"What's that condition?"

"That you'll promise me you won't kill anyone else while the seal is active."

That… does seem like something that Andre would be willing to sacrifice his ability to lie for. And I don't think I really need to kill anyone during my Bringer search. The only person that has died because of it so far was that one rapist, and he was killed by HIM. And HE essentially told me that he wanted the next one to be worthy of life.

If HE ends up ordering me to kill, though, I can just forcibly wipe Andre's memory. It won't be nice, but it'll have to be done. And since I'll be nullifying the seal of honesty then, anyway, it will honor Andre's condition.

"Okay," I say. "I can promise that."

Andre smiles, pleased, but then his face resets. "Why did you ask for that, though? Are you planning on telling me the nullification method?"

Well, I guess this is when I drop the big reveal. "There is an active nullification method, but telling you that is pointless - as there is also a passive nullification method."

"What do you mean?"

"Once the wounds have healed enough, the spell will be broken on its own."

Andre blinks. "...Huh."

"So," I say, "now that you know that, will you promise me that you won't flee and wait for the seal to expire? Will you promise me that you'll let me retrace the wounds whenever they've gotten close enough to healing?"

Andre frowns. "Fuck."

"Is that a yes?" If it's not a yes, I'm gonna have to wipe his memory right away. And I'll likely have to knock him out for it. Choke him unconscious. I don't want to hurt him, but my safety comes first. HIS kingdom comes first.

Wait… should I really still be serving --

Yes. HE is your lord. HE is your master. You owe HIM everything. These doubts are only weakness.


…Yeah. You're right. HE is… HE is so much mightier than me. HE knows what's best for me. What's best for the world.

"Fine," Andre groans. "Fine, you piece of shit. I suppose having scars for the rest of my life is a small price to pay for the safety of any potential victims."

Okay. "Good to hear." I pause. "I should probably retrace your seal soon, then."

"How soon?"

I shrug. "Now?"

He flinches. "Really? Right now?"

"Why postpone it? Better to get it over with."

Andre looks at me with pleading eyes, but then sighs as I refuse to relent. "Fine."

"You should probably knock yourself out, then," I say. "With whatever drug you tried to use on me."

"Fine, fine."

He gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. He fetches a zip lock bag with fine, white powder in it.

"What is that, anyway?" I ask.

"Sparkles," he says. "Nervous depressant originally developed from morelull spores. Sexual predators' go-to roofie. Soluble, odorless, flavorless. Takes fifteen to twenty minutes to work." As he speaks, he pours himself a glass of water and adds the drug into it before stirring the liquid with his finger.

"Well, you know your shit."

"Kind of have to. What, you don't?"

"I do. Just about paras spores rather than… that."

"Suit yourself." He then grabs the glass and downs it. Wow. Just like that?

He turns to me with a sigh. "Well, what are you so surprised about? I've already survived being unconscious near you once."

I suppose that's true.

He walks back over to the couch and sits down. He looks at me. "We've got fifteen minutes. Is there something you want to talk about? Something not that important?"

I try to think of some lower-priority subject. One comes to me. I don't know if this conversation will be pleasant, but it is something I'm curious about.

"Was that dress actually yours?" I ask.

"What?"

"The dress in your bedroom." I point to the room, though its door is closed.

Andre looks over. "Oh, that." He looks back to me with a defiant expression. "Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

Well, after everything else going on between us, I really can't bring myself to be offended by Andre pretending to be a girl sometimes. "Not one you need to worry about."

He stares at me, annoyed.

"But, uh," I continue, "when exactly do you… wear it? And… what for?"

"I crossdress every Saturday," he says. "Well, I used to, before you came along. I do it because I just think I look really cute like that. And… heh."

"What?"

He gives a wry smile. "Well, there are a lot of bad straight men in the world. I've had to stick to gay ones so far because you can't really get a straight guy to go on a date with another guy, but…" He shrugs. "If I managed to look enough like a woman, I could branch out."

This kind of changes everything. Disguising oneself to lure and trap prey… well, doesn't get much more predatory than that.

"But, well," Andre says, his smile melting away, "the optics aren't great. I'm already a bad stereotype by being a gay serial killer, but they'd be even worse if I was a gender-bending one."

"You give a shit about optics when you're killing?"

He pauses. "Right. You're not someone who would understand."

We're quiet for a while.

"How do you kill your victims?" I dare to ask.

He groans. "You'd love to know, wouldn't you."

"Well… yeah."

He looks at me, then sighs. "Fine. I'll tell you. It's not like anything I say will make you any more likely to tell on me."

"You've got that right."

He draws in a breath and briefly closes his eyes. "Well, here we go. What I do is that I find a person to dispose of every four months. When that time comes, I go to my less visited bars and seek out a person with a bad attitude. I strike up conversation and evaluate their personal story and their aura - if they’re just acting out because of personal issues, or if they feel any shame towards their actions. I ask them to come back to my place and continue evaluating them. When I’m sure they deserve to die, I drug them. Then I tie them up in my studio bed and take out my acrylics - a type of paint that doesn’t require ventilation when working with it. Once they wake up, I tell them what exactly made me choose them for death, and then I… "

“Paint with their blood?”

He frowns. “No. Blood makes terrible paint, not to mention it’s evidence. I’m not that dumb.”

“Right, okay.”

He sighs. “I cut them. And I listen to their aura. When people are afraid for their lives, and they produce… intoxicating aura.” He looks into my eyes. “You produce the same kind of aura when you're freaking out about death.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for not just… sitting and enjoying it, I guess.”

He glances elsewhere. “It's the decent thing to do. I mean, I’ve already decided you don’t deserve to die - don't make me regret that decision, by the way - so you're just another person to me in that regard."

Hm. “So… then what do you do? Regarding your victims, I mean.”

“Well, once I’ve cut them, I start painting. I paint a man dying and bleeding lightning and magma. Violet and red. Those are the colors of fear and anger - I’m synesthetic, you see. I perceive color in auras.”

Bleeding lightning and magma… “That sounds like the painting I threatened to destroy on the night we met.”

He nods. “That was one of them. I have seven others. They’re… important to me. Destroying one would feel like erasing the act. And I never want to forget what I’ve done.”

“And once they’re dead, how do you get rid of them?”

He huffs. “Money,” he says. “There are some circles that will happily take payment to get rid of a body and perhaps a car, too, if you’ve got the cash.”

“I get rid of mine by chopping them up, taking them to the woods and drawing a disintegration circle. The body vanishes without a trace.”

He winces at ‘chopping them up’ and quirks a brow at ‘disintegration circle’. “Yeah… chopping people up is exactly something I wouldn’t have the stomach for. I leave that for the criminals.”

“You’re also a criminal.”

He avoids my gaze. “Not that kind of criminal.”

I don’t want to argue, so I move on to my next question. “How did you start killing?”

He sighs. “It started off as just conspiracy to commit murder. My sister had an abusive boyfriend that was blackmailing her. I paid some people to take care of it, and they burned down his apartment with him in it.”

“Oh, come on, that doesn’t count. What’s the first time you killed someone yourself?”

“I was getting to that,” he said, annoyed. “It was one night I was in a bar. I heard a group of men brag about doing horrible things. I took my leave, and then so did one of the men. I noticed that he had a knife, and I made a quick, partially drunk decision to grab it and shove it into his neck. And that’s when… I sensed his aura. I had to flee quickly, but I remembered how that aura looked, sounded, tasted.” His face wrinkles - is he disgusted at himself? “Where there was supposed to be shock, there was pleasure. That's… what made me realize that I really was able to kill, kill without that immediate sense of horror that others would get. And then… it became my duty.”

“That’s fascinating.”

“If you say so,” he sighed. “I’d ask you about your killing next, but I really get the feeling I don’t want to know.”

”Yeah, you probably wouldn’t.”

We pause.

"I think I wanna listen to some music now," he says.

"Go right ahead."

He gets up, and I get up, but he raises a palm. "I'd rather do it alone," he says. "You can enter the studio in about fifteen minutes, probably a little more. Make sure I'm entirely unresponsive. I don't wanna feel any of it."

"Of course," I say, sitting back down. He nods and makes his way to the studio and closes the door behind him. After a while, smooth jazz begins to play.

I make a note of what time it is and then fetch myself another book to read. I make good progress in it, but fifteen minutes and an extra three are up soon enough and force me to put it down. I take the first aid kit with me and enter the studio.

Andre lies on the plastic-covered bed. His face is smooth, no wrinkles to be seen. His breathing is slow but steady. The boombox in the corner is still playing.

It feels wrong to disturb this scene, especially in such a bloody way, but I have to.

I make my way to the boombox and stop the music. Silence fills the room.

I walk over to Andre and touch his hand. Tap on it. No reaction. He's out cold now. I sit by him on the bed. I just watch him breathe. So peaceful. So beautiful.

It occurs to me that Andre is no longer a Bringer candidate, and thus he does not need to be celibate. I don't need to be celibate, either. So, if we wanted it, we could be together.

I sigh. No, he doesn't want that. I want that - Gods, how I do - but there's little I can do if he doesn't like me back. While there are options to Helixians in these scenarios, I don't want to hurt him. More than I already have, anyway.

I sit down next to him, placing down the first aid kit. I reach for his face and stroke his cheek. For a moment, I pretend like everything's different. That we were together. That he was simply asleep. That he would wake up from my touch and smile. That he would fill my heart with that emotion I was only ever able to feel with Him. Love. I wish I could have love, honest love, love unconditional. Love I could rely on.

That love is what the Arceans say Arceus has for them. Is it a wonder they have convinced so many of that lie? Everyone wants that to be true. Everyone still human. And as much as it pains to admit, I'm human too.

You're human yet.


Yeah… if I manage to find another Bringer and he ascends, I'll get my fangs and claws and immortality. Or so HE claims…

HE speaks the truth.

Yes, he must. Otherwise… otherwise, I'll have no way to avoid death, and… that just can't be true. It can't. HE promised.

Exactly. Stop thinking about this. Get to work.

Alright.

---​

Around an hour later, I hear noises from the studio. I look up from my book and wait. A little while later, Andre emerges, looking tired.

"How do you feel?" I ask, setting down the book.

"Back hurts," he says.

"Naturally."

There's a spell of silence.

"I'm hungry," Andre says. "You wanna get some takeout?"

I pause to think. "Sure."

"What would you like?"

I huff, amused. "Please. I just cut up your back for the second time. We should get what you want."

"Hmm. Fair enough." He crosses his arms. "I could go for pizza."

"Go for pizza, then."

"Are you fine with tuna?"

"Oh, tuna's great."

"Tuna it is."

Andre takes out his phone and orders one large tuna pizza. Once he hangs up, we sit on the couch, and Andre suggests we watch another movie while we wait. I start to realize that Andre has suddenly become a lot more friendly with me, which I assume is him wanting to stay in my good graces and make sure that I honor my promise, but it's a welcome change nonetheless.

We don't watch anything as highbrow as The Raikou today, but rather some shitty superhero movie for laughs. The pizza arrives twenty minutes in. It's greasy and I know it's not good for me, but I don't have to keep up a Bringer's body anymore. And I doubt I'll become a blob from just half a pizza.

Time passes, the movie ends, and I think it's about time for me to leave for therapy. He wishes me luck with a sad smile. I know he wants me to start talking about HIM to my therapist and have her order me to a psych to be pumped full of antipsychotics, but I won't be doing that. I don't want my mind altered by something external.

Even though --

No.

Yeah. You're right.

---​

In therapy, I told Mrs Belova about how my night at the gay bar a week ago went. I originally censored the reason why I got in an altercation, but the shrink managed to get it out of me by convincing me that she wouldn't judge. But judge she did. She did have the decency to ask me if I wanted her honest opinion first, but it's not like I could have said no without looking like someone who can't take criticism. She then told me that people have the right to express themselves and we should be respectful of that. And she asked me what exactly bothered me so much about people like the man in the dress.

I couldn't tell her what a low opinion I had of women and especially men that want to become them, so I had to think for a while. Was there another reason I could give, one that would actually be true? And that sparked a realization.

"Well, it just… bothers me," I said, "that some people can… do that. Dare to do that. When I couldn't do that. I wouldn't want to, but I just… wouldn't be able to. I couldn't take the shame. And I'm… me. I'm supposed to be strong. And that guy… that guy was just some guy. Why does he get to be… braver?"

"So… in a way, you're jealous?"

"Jealous?" I grimaced, but then thought about it. "Yeah," I finally said. "I guess I'm jealous."

We talked more about that, trying to find the root of my problem, which of course was in the bullying I had to deal with when I was younger. Pretty frustrating that people's words and a few punches here and there shaped me so much. Come to think of it, it was a pretty big reason I gravitated to HIM. My mother didn't care about the bullying I had to endure, and my later teammates and Abe… I talked about it with Fonz, yeah, but it never really felt like there was a real connection. I don't know why. I only felt a real connection when I spoke with HIM about it. Was that another… no, no. I'm sure it was genuine.

It helped that HE let me vent my frustration by giving me interactive visions where I could beat up my bullies. Hurt them real good without consequences. It made me realize how much I liked violence. Just how different I was.

Regardless, after therapy came shelter duty with Suki. Eric was no longer there, thank the Gods. I talked about him with her and she laughed. Apparently she'd also had a similar experience with him.

I told myself, once again, not to get too attached to Suki. Not just because she's a mareep, but because she'll surely die once the Helixian Kingdom returns. That thought twisted my gut, and I hated that it did. It meant that I really had gone and gotten attached.

Fuck. Ugh. Whatever. I'll feel shitty when she dies, fine. I'll just power through it. It's not like I could do anything to stop it anyway. If I refused to find HIM a Bringer, HE would just kill me and find a Bringer on HIS own. It might mean that ascension will take a while longer, but even if it took a hundred years, Suki would still die of old age. And suffer. Or maybe -- no, she would suffer. HE isn't lying to me!

I sigh. This bus ride home has been back and forth with that for the whole time. I just hope walking through my front door will put me in some other kind of mode and make me forget.

The bus reaches my stop and I get off. I make my way home in an annoying light drizzle. Should've brought an umbrella.

I'm about to round the last corner to my home street when I notice something at the edge of the woods.

With a wispy, black body and a helmet of bark and branches, I recognize it as a phantump. Ghost and grass, if I recall right, not that it's hard to guess. Its blue eyes stare directly into mine despite being about a dozen meters away.

Must be one of Michi’s ghost friends. Gods, that whole thing had slipped my mind. Regardless, I’m not thrilled to see one so close to my house. Does it know where I live? The place is protected by talismans, but… what if they do something to Him?

I contemplate heading closer and negotiating - though I don’t know how I’d even do that - but the mon is faster to turn around and float deeper into the woods. It didn’t want to stick around. Maybe it’s just that disgusted with me.

Well, whatever. I continue on my way. I need to prepare for my next move in my search for the Bringer.

---​
 
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