MATURE: Hunter, Haunted

[canisaries]

Whoops, bad wording on my part. I meant I was always under the impression psychologists don't focus on diagnoses, but rather solely the therapy aspects. The diagnosis part tends to just be a requirement to report to insurance companies so they're not paying for this stuff all willy nilly. At least, this is what I've been told by my therapists in the States, haha. They might've just been trying to make me feel less anxious about things... Awks.

Well, I suppose it wouldn't be too hard to switch "psychologist" with "psychiatrist", but I'm still gonna do some more research before deciding on that.

Also, now that I'm caught up, I'd update your content warnings in the first post (particularly for a rape TW, even if it's not necessarily NC-17 explicit). ^^

I'mmmm... actually not sure what part you're referring to now. Can you elaborate so I can know what I'm tagging?

Anddd finally, that new banner is amazing.

ty ty I'm very fond of it myself :>

 

[diamondpearl876]

Well, I suppose it wouldn't be too hard to switch "psychologist" with "psychiatrist", but I'm still gonna do some more research before deciding on that.

Fair enough, hehe

I'mmmm... actually not sure what part you're referring to now. Can you elaborate so I can know what I'm tagging?

Oh, sorry. It just mentions violence and gore in the first post, but not any of the rape-y undertones that are in the story. Like I said, there's no explicit rape, but a lot of Red's thoughts are pretty iffy in that regard. They remind me of his interactions with Shirlee in AGAPE for reference of my thought process there

 

[canisaries]

Oh, sorry. It just mentions violence and gore in the first post, but not any of the rape-y undertones that are in the story. Like I said, there's no explicit rape, but a lot of Red's thoughts are pretty iffy in that regard. They remind me of his interactions with Shirlee in AGAPE for reference of my thought process there

Oh, that I can get. The term "sexual predator" does come from somewhere, even if Red's actual motives aren't sexual in nature. Thanks for letting me know.

 

[canisaries]

EDIT: This chapter has been revised as of 31 March 2019.

i'm finally back with another chapter. content warning again for gore and dark themes (but also some gross imagery this time around t. future canis). also all the chapters now have names because why not. enjoy

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CHAPTER 10
Searching

---​

“What are you doing?” Abe repeats louder, shivering in place. He’s reached the limit of how close he dares to come.

I don’t bother answering, as I’d have to explain the full context for that, and he probably wouldn’t even believe me. I’ll come up with something to tell him afterwards. For now, there’s another matter that’s more important.

I touch my right temple with the tip of the knife. The cool metal draws a tiny gasp from me. Abe’s eyes grow even wider from before. Gods, am I really doing this? I guess I am. I have to.

You see, I’ve realized what’s actually been going on. It’s not the fault of any ‘disease’ that I’ve had all those nightmares, hallucinations, lapses of judgement, fits of exhaustion and nausea and so on. It’s something far more obvious, something that I should’ve realized ages ago - something that’s probably the one responsible for me reaching this conclusion so late.

Back at the cabin, all those days ago, I put the mask of a ghost onto my face to get it to possess me. My plan was to eradicate the ghost in my mindscape to get rid of it for good. I thought I succeeded, but now I see that I was mistaken.

Illusions are practically what ghost mon are famous for. And what better way to create said illusions than from within the mind of the target himself? It’s child’s play for the ghost to make the target think he’s eradicated his possessor, only to hide deep within his mind and continue sabotaging him from there.

When I thought I killed that yamask, that’s what happened. Which means that the mask never actually came off. It never separated from my skin, she only made it look like it did. In reality it’s still on to this day, which means that I need to get it off. Now. Regardless of how painful it will be.

I try my best to calm my trembling hand. This is the end, Joanna - I’m going to get you out of my head.

I push the knife’s tip onto my temple. The sting is harsh - still bearable, but it’s only gonna get worse from here.

“What are you doing?” Abe screeches one more time, backing away with strained legs, glasses askew on his face from all the shaking. “Stop!”

“I gotta do this...” I hiss, gathering the willpower to drive the blade deeper and run it downwards. Damn my self-preservation instinct. I should make this fast to minimize the pain, but my primal side doesn’t quite get that. Next to the pain, I feel a warm drip moving down. Blood. Usually it would excite me, but I’ve had more than enough of it for today.

The boy, his skin quite devoid of color by now, reaches for his pocket and pulls out a black rectangle.

“Don’t!” I growl. I don’t need cops complicating this now. In my current state, I might end up saying something very bad that’ll lead to investigation, and it still hasn’t been too long since Michi disappe…

Michi. I killed Michi after I got possessed. It might not have actually happened. She might still be alive.

Something new creeps into the surrounding soundscape. Sirens. They’re coming for me. She told them. I need to run. But I also need to get Joanna out of my head, she’s only gonna make things harder, so I should hurry up and carve this face off…

...no, wait, that’s ridiculous. Why would I carve my own face off? How’s that gonna help? The mask could be absorbed all the way to my brain for all I know. No, the mask probably doesn’t even exist anymore. The merging was likely just symbolic. I can’t use raw power to solve this problem. I need to… I need to…

There’s a way. I know there’s a way. But it’s just not… coming to me. Fuck! Is this Joanna’s doing? Can she do that, block memories? Information? How can I even win against something like that?

I remember the sting in my temple and pull the knife out. I can hear Abe sigh. And the sirens. Shit, the sirens! I need to get outta here!

I nearly run straight for the stairs, but remember I have a loose end to tie up. I better do it fast...

“Abe!”

The boy flinches, then shrinks away as I walk toward him. I stare into his eyes, unblinking. I keep the knife at my side.

“I wasn’t here,” I stress. “I wasn’t here and I didn’t do anything.”

“Wh-what are you talking about…?” His voice is breaking, resembling that of a togepi.

“It’s not hard!” I snap. “Just say you didn’t see me!”

“I d-don’t understand --”

“Do as I say, Abe, and I won’t hurt you!”

His shaking stops. He’s become as still as a xatu. I realize I’ve raised the blade. I’m pointing it right at him. And I just threatened him, too.

Shit. I went too far. His trust for me might be permanently damaged now.

I back away, open my jacket and shove the knife in the breast pocket. The pocket’s bottom rips as the blade goes through, but for a makeshift scabbard, it’s good enough.

I give my brother one final glance. His eyes are reddened, sparkling by now. I can’t think of anything to say, so I merely turn away and head for upstairs. Only when I’ve climbed all the way up and opened the door to my room does he dare to speak up again.

“Where are you going?” he shouts.

I stop to think of a lie. “The beach.” It’s not too far away, but it’s at least in the opposite direction of where I’m intending to go. Though Abe can be smart. He’ll probably realize my exact tactic. Shit. Shouldn’t have said anything.

I leap across the room to the window and open it. The volume of the sirens increases dramatically. Eardrums aching, I focus on the branch of the sturdy old oak right outside. After climbing on the sill and angling myself correctly, I jump down and grab onto the rough-barked branch. The scar underneath the bandage on my wrist stings a little. Right, the psychic-nullifying seal is still there. Although it’s not like it’ll be of much use anymore.

I drop down onto another branch below, then descend onto the grass. I look up. The window is gaping and welcoming any thieves in. Probably should have closed it, but then again, there’s nothing in my room worth stealing.

Red and blue lights flash near the front of the house. Shit, better get moving.

I run across the back yard and hop over the hedge to another yard similar to mine. Having glanced around to make sure no one sees me, I circle around the house and slip to the street.

I start walking towards the direction of the high school at a normal, non-suspicious manner, but still a brisk one.

Okay. Current plan, head to the cabin. It’s a good place to hide out. Unless Michi told them about that. Or did she talk to them at all? Are these sirens real, or just another trick again? Gods, this hurts to think about. But… if Michi’s alive, she could be at the cabin. I could catch her again. If I threaten to kill her, Joanna will be forced to stop fucking with me and tell me what’s really going on. She wouldn’t play with a real child’s life, right? Or… didn’t she do that last time?

I shake my head. Whatever the case, I need to focus on getting to the cabin now. And I need to make sure I won’t be fooled by Joanna while doing it. I’m sure that, if I just pay close attention and concentrate, I can tell what’s real and what isn’t. Her illusions can’t be perfect. If they were, she’d surely gotten me in jail by now.

I haven’t lost yet. I can still turn this around.

“Gahh...!”

My left hand, what’s hurting it? It’s like a bunch of fire ants are biting…

I look at the palm. Cuts. More cuts - they’re appearing on their own? And they’re… forming letters?

SO YOU
FIGURED
IT OUT?

Joanna… this must be Joanna talking to me.

“Couldn’t you just use your voice?” I growl.

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

I GET TO
HURT YOU
THIS WAY.

“Drama queen.”

Another cleaning swipe.

YOU HURT
ME. IT’S
ONLY FAIR.

I groan and close my fist. I shouldn’t be reading what she’s saying. She’s probably trying to distract me so she can mess with me while I walk. She’d likely try to guide me straight to the police station.

I concentrate on the road, though another wave of heat and more carvings make it difficult. Curiosity tugs at my mind. But I can’t give it headspace. I need all my neurons on my environment.

Ten eventless steps later, though, I cave in. Just a little peek won’t make my world collapse, right?

MADE YOU
LOOK.

And then a crude drawing of male genitalia.

“Grrh…!” I close my fist and shove it in my pocket. “You got a lot of nerve, you know? Those spiders, that apocalypse… and now this, too. You do all these things to humiliate me. Is that your idea of justice?”

A heat and a few strokes. I don't need to look to know she said yes.

“Justice… I hate that word,” I mutter, speeding up my pace. Having to watch this idyllic little neighborhood inch along is pissing me off. I guess my only pastime is continuing our chat. Her writing doesn't even hurt anymore - I guess she figured the shock value was gone and gave up.

“So… you want me locked up, I’ve gathered.” I sigh. “And I can't have that. But you won't change your mind, so we can't come to an agreement.”

Rumbling. I stop. The asphalt cracks before me. But it looks… just a bit short of real, like an effect in a movie. I can tell now. I can tell what's her doing.

The cracks form letters. I guess this is her new notepad.

COULDN'T YOU
CHANGE YOURS?

She's bargaining? It's not blind aggression, so I take that as a positive. It likely won't last with my answer, though.

“No. There's no other way for me. I’ve tried living like you and it doesn't work. I need to ascend, and for that, I need to stay hidden.”

The cracks repair and reform.

MAYBE YOU
SHOULD JUST
KILL YOURSELF.

My fists tighten.

“...Really? You don't think I even…”

My clench my teeth and march through the illusion. The cracks fade away as I step on them.

“You don't think I even deserve a fair chance at living?”

Blood rushes in my ears. Along my voice, it's the loudest thing I hear right now.

“After being born like this, after trying to just fucking get what you people take for granted?”

My nails dig into my palms.

“After the Twitch?”

The word makes everything silent for a while.

I shouldn't have brought that up. I don't want to remember those things right now. I've got plenty on my mind as is.

Forget this talk. It was a mistake taking her bait. I never should've spoken up. I need to just get to the cabin now. I'll think of what to do afterwards based on what I see.

That moment might not be that far, actually. That path right there should take me to the graveyard, correct?

Correct, I can say as I clear the little patch of woods the path has taken me through. I'm right before the graveyard. Not much more now.

I slip through the metallic gates. The sunshine renders the area even prettier than last time. Specks of pollen, glowing in the golden spruce-filtered light, hover in the warm air. The roses and tulips set on the roots of the gravestones seem to enjoy the luminance as well, even if they’re bound to soon wither like the corpses two meters below. Only the sleepy green moss and spiky grass really flourish here.

As much as I’d like to stay and enjoy the view, I have to keep going. I head to the edge of the yard and enter the woods. Flanked by prickly branches and bushes and rawstberry plants - which seem to now have sprouted some small white buds, neat - I proceed along the mossy forest floor until I reach the actual path, then follow it further.

I feel more relaxed already. Safer, more in control. The woods have always felt like a secondary home to me. The shade, the silence. I can be who I am, what I am. It’s like I belong here.

But while I appreciate these feelings of peace in the middle of all this stress, I still have a job to do and a plan to figure out. I can’t allow myself to rest just yet. Right, gotta keep an eye on the environment too, make sure Joanna doesn't manage to slip anything by me.

A faint rumble arises from within, accompanied by an ache. Hunger. I guess it's been a while since I ate. Or has it? I ate just before I left for the psych appointment, and well at that. Maybe I'm burning it faster since I'm still recovering from the illness. No, wait, there was no illness, I know now that was just Joanna. Gods, this is annoying. What was I even doing here?

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

And there's the cabin! She should be around there somewhere. I need to slow down my pace, like this, so I can catch her by surprise. I need stealth especially this time as she knows my aura's been suppressed.

I glance around the opening, catching neither Michi or anything surreal. She might be indoors. In that case, she’s already trapped if I go in. No need for stalking. But was there ever? I’ve already beat her once in a chase. Though then I had mental clarity on my side. Joanna wasn’t as… brave with the illusions back then… or was she? Did any of it happen? I mean, if I killed her, there’d be no reason for me to be here in the first place…

It doesn’t matter! I’m busting in through that door and killing any little girls I come across.

I march across the opening and place my hand on the rusty door handle. I stop. As soon as I open this door, I’ll get to pounce on her like a raikou. Dig my nails in her skin. Feel the flesh. Feel the flesh of struggling prey that thought it was safe.

This will be sublime.

I knock the door, swinging it open. Where is she? I can’t spot her anywhere. Did she hear me approach and hide somewhere? Where could she be…

I close the door to make any possible escape attempt of hers a bit slower and check the second room quickly. No one here, no places to hide. That leaves the big room. Let’s see… under the table? Nothing there. In the fireplace? Nothing there. That leaves the pile of mattresses. Come to think of it, it does look a bit higher now. She must be curled up within.

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

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

I fling it to the side.

Nothing.

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

I rush out, now annoyed by the closed door myself, and look around. Can’t find her. But I need to find her. My insides are imploding on themselves.

“Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi…”

Fuck off, pidgey! I don't need any witnesses, even wild ones. And I don't like you advertising your presence while you know I can't get you and I'm starving…

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

I glare at my left palm.

“Joanna!” I snap. “Where is she?”

Come on, respond. Respond, you bitch. Don't you dare go silent on me now.

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

DON'T
YOU
REMEMBER?

Remember… you've got gall, talking about remembering! You're the one fucking with my memory!

“Just tell me where she is!” I growl, a bit of foamy spit falling out.

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

Finally! Words are forming…

SHE'S
RIGHT
HERE.

What do you…

“Ngh…!”

Something’s going on. Inside. Where the hunger is.

The hunger says it’s hollow, but that something disagrees. There’s a mass, solid but soft. Moving.

No. It can't be… it can't be her. She wouldn't fit. Even if she did, she'd have suffocated, overheated, dissolved in the acids…

I place a hand on my abdomen, hoping to calm the commotion, but only achieve the opposite. The mass twitches, expands. I can feel the organ's walls stretching. Way too much. The air is… squeezing out of my lungs…!

“Stop…” I try, but it's barely even a wheeze. Why bother… I should focus my lungs on gasping for the air while I still can. I'm not going to convince this thing with words. Maybe… force?

I form a fist and drive it into my gut.

A lump pokes up into my esophagus, bringing an explosion of nausea. I collapse onto my knees and arms. A cough laden with the urge to vomit leaves my mouth. Another. Oh Gods, no, don't try to --

The lump shoots up my throat, arriving in my mouth with the sour, disgusting taste of vomit. My airways are shut, rendering me unable to breathe. I separate my lips again, some acidic fluids leaking out, and that's when the lump sees its exit and dashes out - or the front of it does, as the rest of it still occupies my poor, poor esophagus.

Through my wet, blurry eyes, I see what's vacated me.

A hand. A smallish human hand. Covered in gastric acid, half-melted mush of oran, foamy saliva and who knows what else. Its fingers flex and extend, reaching for something to grasp onto.

Michi… it really is Michi…

But she can't come out, she won't fit, she'll tear me apart if she tries crawling out. It's not great to have her in me, either, but at least then I can breathe even a little...

I grab her hand with both of mine, wincing at the slimy, chunky touch, but push with determination. It slides in maybe a couple centimeters, but after that refuses to budge… maybe pain will scare her back in.

I bite down onto her forearm, hard enough to draw blood. It tastes awful. As awful as it was the first time I tasted it - a bitter disappointment. Back before the flavor grew on me, before HE made it taste so great.

She's quivering in place, but that's not enough. I bite down harder. A whine comes from within. Just a little harder… but fast, the lack of air is really getting me… dizzy… blurring my vision. Back of head aching… bite harder… down to the bone…

Crack!

Through? It went through…?

Receding. She's receding. Lots of blood… cough it out… cough? Gasp, cough. I-I’m breathing!

Breathing, yes, though interrupted by a lot of coughing and swallowing and spitting out vomit and blood. The lungs are still squeezed, but I think it's slowly getting better. The mass is shrinking. Nausea is easing up. The mass twitches again, no, no more… and it stops.

Oh Gods. It's over for now, thank fuck. My vision sharpens, brightens… and there's something beneath me. Something solid among the red-brown-yellow fluids. That's… a hand. Her hand. I bit it off? I didn't expect that… though, to be fair, I didn't expect a lot of what just happened.

Whatever, that's weird, all of this is weird, but I just want to take a bit to get my shit together first, I'm not gonna recover from this in just a couple of seconds. I lay on my side, avoiding any droplets or chunks of vomit, and close my eyes. Let me just breathe for a bit. Not only because of nearly choking a bit ago, but for all of today. This week. Fuck this week.

Okay. I think I’m okay enough to try getting up now.

I inhale deeply, then bend my arms and spine to prop myself up to a sitting position. The world around has stopped undulating. Okay, good… now, can I stand up fully?

I try and succeed. Thank the Gods. I spit on the ground and to my relief, find the saliva to be clear. I check my hands. Clean, save for some dirt, which I brush off.

So it was another illusion. I mean, yeah, obviously. You can’t fit a human inside another human. Save for a fetus inside its mother, but last I checked, I was male and she was twelve…

I turn around and, as expected, see the pool of vomit gone and the hand --

Floating? In midair?

No, you’re supposed to be gone too! The illusion’s over!

It hovers closer, its fingers raising. I step back. This isn’t real, why are you still --

Smack!

...Excuse me.

Did you just fucking slap me?

The slimy hand stays in midair, unapologetic.

Oh, I get it, because I slapped Michi that one time! Back when we first met, and she said I wouldn’t hit a girl! And then I did, and now she’s hitting me, because irony!

“Really funny, Joanna!” I yell at the hand, cleaning my face of its slime. “Just hilarious! You should be a comedian!”

The hand slides off to side. It turns to face the direction and accelerates, heading for the forest ahead.

“Where are you going now?” I shout, following with a walk, then a jog. Why am I even following? This is an illusion. It doesn’t matter. It’ll probably lead to even more pain and humiliation. I should stop and…

...no, hold on, I know where the hand is taking me. And I really should go there - I need to know if any evidence was left behind, if Joanna left some kind of message without me noticing. Clues of the murder… that may or may not have happened.

The vaguely familiar trees and rocks pass by as I follow the floating hand and retrace the steps I took just a few days ago. I remember thinking I was a houndoom on a level beyond just metaphorical… was it Joanna’s doing? But why would she do that when it was what led to Michi’s death? Had I been all there, I would've just wiped her memory and let her live in ignorance. Even if Michi didn't die, that trick would've endangered her quite a bit…

Oh, the hand is slowing down. Are we getting near? Yes, I recognize this scenery. The place is just a couple of strides away…

The hand begins fading, then finally disappears as it reaches the murder scene. I dash to catch up and…

There's nothing out of the ordinary.

I’d say that's a relief, but if there really was nothing, why would the hand lead me here…?

I monitor my surroundings with apprehension. If anything unrealistic happens, I can't let it fool me again. And if I manage to see through more illusions, I may get better at recognizing them in the future, which just might be the key to regaining control over my mind…

...hm. Now I’ve stood here for a minute or so, and nothing’s happening. Maybe she doesn’t want to risk that illusion-resistance developing.

Alright, if nothing’s happening and I’m safe where I am, I can take this time to think. Figure out the current situation and what I should do next.

What happened before I came here? Well, there was that apocalypse illusion that made me realize Joanna was still in my head, then I heard sirens and figured the cops were coming to get me. I escaped the house and headed here to… well, hiding out was one goal, but I know I had Michi in mind. I couldn’t find her anywhere, though - no, my insides don’t count - so I should probably put the whole Michi thing aside for now, anyway.

What I definitely need to do, be it now or eventually, is get Joanna out of my head. Then the information I’ll collect will be certain, and damage control will be much easier. And in any case, I don’t want to live the rest of my life with a reality-muddling mind-parasite.

How do I get her out? I know there was a way, but it’s just not coming to me. I remember the other ways - or, well, the one that would actually work and then the delusion that carving off my own face would help. But not that second real way. Not yet, anyway… but if I can see through illusions if I really try, there’s hope for accessing blocked off memories. So think, Red, think. How does one kill a ghost?

“Pi-pi-pi!”

A pidgey? The pidgey from before, probably. Either way, I’d like it gone. I need to concentrate.

“Prrruuuuuu...”

“Hey!” I shout at the treetops, voice echoing. “Shut up!”

Maybe that’ll scare it off.

“Prrr… prrehh… ahh... ihh… iiihhh….”

Nope, still singing. It’s weird song, though, haven’t heard one like that before. A lot of different tones, like different vowels, and it keeps getting lower. Raspier. Almost… human?

A tiny brown bird flies out from its hiding spot among the branches, lands on the mold close to me and hops closer. It looks at me with its black, beady eyes.

Its beak opens.

“Red Akai killed me.”

That’s… my voice.

Like playback from a recorder. Don’t tell me…

“Red Akai killed me.”

The pidgey continues to stare at me with its cute little chubby face, unaware of the meaning of its words.

She… taught it to say that. While I was occupied with something else, probably that fantasy featuring HIM. Which means… these words have been here all this time, repeated by that pidgey.

If the cops didn’t find out about me yet… this is how they will.

No, remember what you promised yourself. If anything odd happens, the first thing you’ll do is make sure it isn’t just another illusion. Make no conclusions before you’ve taken a long, close look at it.

Or listen, in this case. Whether the pidgey itself is real doesn’t matter. The authenticity of its call is what I need to determine.

“Come on, birdie...” I mumble at the hopping critter. “Say it again...”

Its pink, bulky beak opens once again. “Red Akai killed me.”

That sounded… I don’t know how that sounded. It doesn’t immediately sound fake, but it does sound weird, but weird is kind of expected from just a mimicking feral.

But what would ‘fake’ even sound like? Could I be able to tell from anything?

Dammit. This makes the verdict on this one… inconclusive.

However, I do already have a bit of a plan on what to do next. If it really can speak, I’ll have to get rid of it, for sure. If someone finds it and complains, I’ll just say it went crazy and attacked me. Killing a feral in self-defense is completely legal.

I reach into my jacket and draw the kitchen knife from the breast pocket. Easy, now… don’t want to let the pidgey know what’s coming.

I hide the blade behind my back and slowly crouch. The bird hasn’t flown away yet, but it’s not close enough for a confident stab.

“Here, birdie, birdie...” I call gently. “Prrruuu… I’m a friend...”

I’ve caught its attention. It takes one hop closer, but no more. It’s almost as if it can smell my intentions now.

“Come on, birdie… I’ll give you some nice scratches.” I wiggle the fingers of my visible hand while bettering my grasp of the knife’s hilt with the other.

It’s approaching, yes! Hesitantly, but still doing it. Come on, hop, hop, just a few more to be sure… yes, it’s practically dead already. And so dies that phrase...

“Red Akai killed me.”

...That didn’t come from this bird.

I carefully turn my head. Another bird has appeared behind me.

“Red Akai killed me,” it repeats. “Pi-pi-pi. Prrruuu. Red Akai killed me.”

There’s another that knows.

My heart thumps louder. I can’t kill either one now. The other will just fly away…

Did Joanna teach two pidgey? Did the first teach the other? And if it could teach one, then...

“Red Akai killed me. Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi...”

That came from the treetops. A third pidgey.

The birds’ voices unite in a cacophony of chirrups and confessions.

“Red Akai killed me. Prrruuu. Pi-pi-pi, Red Akai killed me. Red Akai…” And even more are joining. The… whole forest knows.

“Jo-to-to!” A pidgeotto, too?

There, I see it. Perched on that pine branch, staring right at me with angry black eyes. Pale read crest raised. It’s pissed, I can tell. Did it figure out what I was gonna do with the knife?

It spreads its wings and leaps down, swooping at me. Oh fuck!

I shield my face with my forearms while trying my best to point the blade the bird's way. It's not deterred much, simply swerving to the knifeless side and scratching my sleeve with its talons. It didn't pierce the skin or even fabric, but I can tell there was some serious intent to harm behind that touch.

It flies past me to another branch, but has barely perched when it jumps back down. Fine, you wanna fight? I've got my knife, and I don't care how many times I need to swing it before I -- ah, fuck!

The knife falls out of my hand, and the surprise dive bombing pidgey flies off. Before I can attempt to pick it back up, the bigger bird's talons swipe at my neck - thankfully missing, but forcing me to occupy both of my hands to cover it and my face.

“Joohhh!” it screeches, flapping its wings frantically and continuing to claw me in midair. Fuck, it's really going! These talons aren't cutting, but they're certainly bruising. Ow, nevermind, it found the bare hands!

“Stop, you asshole!” I grunt, trying to shove it back with my arms, but it always pushes back, scratching and nipping at my poor hands. Screeching like a demon. This thing needs a fucking exorcism!

Exorcism…!

The pidgeotto turns to dust, spreading into the air and dissipating.

That's my proof. That's my proof that this is the word she didn't want me to remember!

“Exorcism,” I speak. Hearing it back feels so surreal, as if it was a word I hadn’t bumped into in years and suddenly came across again, shocked by how I still managed to remember the meaning. Which is…

I don’t remember. I can’t remember what the word ‘exorcism’ means, though I bet I did a moment ago before Joanna had to go and ruin things like she likes to do. But as long as I still remember the word, I can always find out its definition somewhere else. So I need to make sure I remember!

I snatch my knife off the ground like a noctowl snatches an unlucky rattata. Exorcism. A long word, but Joanna proved longer could fit. In the skin of my palm, that is!

I wipe the blade onto my jeans, then drive the tip into my left palm. Stings, yeah, too bad, live with it. Line, another, another, another, E. Then X. O, R…

What’s the word I’m writing, again? Exor... cism. There it is. C, I, S, M. Nice try, Joanna.

There we go. Exorcism. Spelled by wounds. Doubt I’ll forget it’s there, and even if I do, the ache will remind me.

Gods! Yes! Finally, something goes right! There really is hope for me. It may be difficult, but I really do believe I’ll eventually get rid of this mental tumor.

I tuck knife back in my jacket’s breast pocket and sigh in relief. Okay, what now? What’s my next step?

Scanning my surroundings, I notice all the pidgey are gone. Whether they evaporated with that pidgeotto or not, I didn’t notice. They could have been real, partially real or completely fake. None of those options tell me for sure if there really are cops after me, though.

I should play it safe and assume there are. Still, I have to leave these woods to get the information I need, probably from the library. That’s where I’ll head, then. I’ll just need to be as inconspicuous as I can on the way there… normally that’d be a piece of cake, I have lots of experience of that from my stalking, but this time I also need to make sure not to fall for any of Joanna’s tricks.

Still, I’m feeling confident. I have a clear plan and destination.

I begin my walk back to the cabin. Somewhere, a pidgey chirps.

---

 

[lucarioknight56]

For the Review Game and for you, for being such a great reviewer! I'll focus mainly on chapter 12.

Grammar/Style:
Nothing wrong as far as I can tell in grammar, so props to that. As for style, Red's dialogue makes for an intriguing narration. Personal opinion: I don't care for the strong language. It makes sense given the context, but I just prefer to not read it; it's part of what made me leery about reading this in the first place, but I've chosen to ignore it for the sake of finishing this. No need to be concerned, it's just something I try to avoid.

Plot/Story:
Things have taken an interesting twist for Red...I'd feel sorry for him if he didn't deserve it. It's always nice to see the usual definition of a protagonist twisted in that he has many bad ideals and few, if any, good ones. Anyways, so far everything is really coming together, and you have to wonder what he'll do to get rid of Joanna's ghost, if it's even possible. I look forward to see how this deepens.

Characters:
Red has plenty of depth, but even now, has had little development. This makes him feel somewhat less compelling, as we haven't seen any real significant changes come from him outside of him trying to appear more normal, then subsequently failing thanks to Joanna. It's entertaining, yes, but it would be nice to see him question his beliefs, even a tiny bit.

Setting:
You've done well in establishing the setting throughout, especially with Red's dark quips on the hidden details. No complaints really.

Overall:
The only issue I notice is that Red, while enjoyable, hasn't had much development. He is right now trying to deal with the consequences of his actions, and maybe his time for reflection can come after this madness is settled; its understandable why none may have come yet. Other than that, keep at it!

 

[Flaze]

Well now…even though I already knew that this fic very much earned its Mature rating I wasn’t prepared for this level of detail in regards to…well, gore. I actually don’t do that well with excessive gore but hey, one can’t improve unless they try different things and there aren’t any straight horror and gore fics here so I’ll do my best here.

Now admittedly, grammar isn’t my forte so I’ll be mainly focusing on style, story and characters in these reviews.

Prologue

I gotta give you kudos for one thing, right off the bat you make it clear to your readers what type of story they’re getting into and whether they can handle it or not. I’m sure not every chapter will show the level of detailed blood and gore that this prologue does, but it acts as a good way to introduce us to the story, its protagonist as well as the tone and maybe some of the themes that the story tackles.

Overall the prologue does a really good way of portraying the chaotic scene that appears in front of Red and how absolutely ecstatic he is about it. You’ve got a good hang of getting that madness and cheer unbridled joy across and all of that makes the whole thing even more unsettling, which is the point.

However, the prologue also brings forth one issue that I kind of feel will become prevalent in the story, while the amount of description is excellent in conveying the more horrific scenes, outside of that it can sometimes cross into purple prosing. I mean, kudos for finding interesting ways to describe breathing and waking up, but I feel like we didn’t really need that.

Similarly I think that the description on the state the girl is in goes on for a bit too long. It shows us that Red is very mindful about details especially when it comes to his sacrifices, but it feels like it drags a bit and could get repetitive, especially near the end. I think you get his orientation towards details down pretty early on without having to go back to the body so many times.

Chapter 1

So right off the bat chapter 1 leaves me with some interesting questions. The first one being, how did Red do his whole sacrifice thing? The way it was described in the prologue it seems like the fire was going wild, but even if it didn’t where exactly where all the Pokemon and Abe. My second question has to do with some…logistics, mainly why the Pokemon need to go to school and my last question is mostly related to my ignorance about Twitch Plays Pokemon. I mean, I only know the basis cause I had a friend who was really into watching it happen but I myself have no context for how that was used as an influence for your fics.

Aside from those little pet peeves and maybe some more introduction to Red’s “normal” life, the chapter is otherwise uneventful. The bulk of the chapter is taken by the supermarket scene where Red’s urges are again described in a, maybe overly, detailed fashion. I get that this is supposed to show us how twisted his psyche is and how he can snap at any moment if provoked, but his fantasy stretches a bit too long.

In general I think that for as much as we spend time in Red’s head and see how sociopathic he is…we don’t actually know that much about him. I mean for someone that claims to want to detach from everything he sure likes to hear himself talk and we do get bits and pieces of his mind dueling with itself here and there but it’s all a variation of what we saw from the prologue.

I liked the graveyard scene at the end as well as his meeting with Joanna’s brother though, it’s a good piece of dramatic irony but it also shakes up the chapter and the story and Red’s though process sells him as a villainous protagonist really well.

Chapter 2

I liked chapter 2 a lot better if only because it got the story moving a bit more and was really interesting. Yamask is one of those ghost types with lore that’s both interesting and unsettling and adding that as an important aspect of this fic’s plot helps it stand out more.

I think the introduction of Michy also helped things a bit, even if Red is still our POV character, the fact that we get to see someone else have a role and speak and the like helps balance things out, plus since Red is concerned with figuring out what’s going on with her and Yamask he’s not overanalyzing and aggrandizing himself in his own subconscious like in the Prologue and Chapter 1.

I don’t know if chapter 2 being shorter than chapter 1 is good or not though, on the one hand I think more happens in regards to increasing the thematic weight, on the other hand it also feels like things moved very slowly. Either way, I like Michy and I hope she doesn’t die soon. Also, I kind of wonder how you’re even meant to kill a ghost type.

 

[canisaries]

Thank you @Flaze for the review! It's good to receive feedback on the first chapters again - it's been a long time since I touched them and a long time since I've gotten fresh critique on them.

The prologue's pretty extreme, yeah. Might honestly be a bit too extreme and play some cards too early. Back then I went as detailed as this to test my limits, but thinking back on it, perhaps it should be toned down a little to give scenes in latter chapters more punch. As of now, it might actually be the goriest chapter of all. Which I suppose is good news for you and others who don't do so well with it, heh.

Those questions chapter 1 raised have mostly been answered in Agápe and the trilogy of short stories linked in the description. I'm not going to demand any reader to look at those (I mean, Agápe's an entire chapter fic), but just know that there are explanations. Explanations I could probably try to do a quick exposition on in this fic. Hm.

I hadn't noticed chapter 2 being shorter than chapter 1, thanks for bringing that to my knowledge. It shouldn't really be that way since chapter 2 is really what introduces the main conflict and chapter 1 is just character establishment. Then again, that slow/fast parallel you brought up also seems to have something to it. Double hm.

Glad you liked Michi! She's sort inspired by this one childhood friend I had and writing her always brings good, whimsical memories. Which gets pretty fucked up later on when... whoops, no spoilers

Anyway, thank you very much for your thoughts. See you again soon.

 

[Flaze]

Chapter 3

Believe it or not, I actually did some research today on TPP if only so that I could gain more understanding of this fic, that also led me to reading parts of the webcomic you made, I haven’t read the previous oneshots and Agape, but I do have more of a context on the background behind this story if that’s worth anything. But anyways, on to chapter 3.

Chapter 3 was actually kind of a fun read, like in a way the Prologue really undersells the dark humor of the story which I think is what really allows it to stand on its own. There comes a point where you start noticing that Red’s monologue is unsettling but also really funny and strangely awkward, it’s probably mean to laugh at someone who’s got a condition but it’s still amusing…maybe that makes me a bad person.

I think that the spider torture segment of the chapter might’ve gone for a bit too long, much like the prologue it was meant to show us how detail-oriented Red is, but again, you can get this across quickly enough and it’s something you’d already shown us at times before.

On the other hand I think the scene with the doctor could’ve been used more. It goes by very quickly and it ends up being more comedic when it could’ve been like a good game of cat and mouse between the doctor trying to size Red’s condition and Red trying to hide it. Part of what I think undersells it is the focus it puts on her breasts at times during the segment, I get it’s supposed to show how uncomfortable Red is with them but like…it just kind of ends up being “boobies are weird” and tonally clashes with everything that came before and after.


Chapter 4

I feel a bit conflicted with this chapter. On the one hand it had some pretty amusing or funny lines, on the other hand I feel like the chapter could’ve been summarized with Red discovering info about Yamask in the library. Aside from that I think the chapter, and at this point the story, is dragging a bit.

This is mostly due to the pacing that the story takes, to the point where it’s settling into a formula of starting the chapter, then featuring a scene of Red fantasizing about killing someone or something, then some plot movement that justifies the chapter’s presence and then the end. Unfortunately the chapters end up being pretty long even though almost nothing of consequence happens in each one.

Your description is very detailed and you have a hang for evoking words that can really make the reader know what Red is feeling, not exactly relate to it but understand them nonetheless. The problem is this level of detail comes back to bite you in that you end up spending too much time on scenes that…don’t feel like they matter. At this point we already have a good hang for what kind of character Red is, we haven’t seen any other new aspects of him that don’t involve him being an antisocial psychopath devout to Helix nor have we focused or truly gotten to know any other characters. In fact, I think if you cut down all the weight chapters 1 through 4 could be put in two chapters and you’ll essentially still keep everything.

Chapter 5

Well finally the other shoe drop. This chapter has been the best so far if only because all of the build up to the confrontation with Michy and Johanna finally bore fruit. I have to say, the tension in this chapter was gripping and it had me at the age of my seat worried about what’d happen to Michy and Johanna, in fact I think it’s the first time I’ve wondered if Red will actually get what’s coming to him at some point.

I also just realized that I’m a bit confused on how Red was supposed to kill the Yamask. Like, was he supposed to keel an image in his head? Was he supposed to destroy the mask? At the end of the chapter the emphasis seems to be that Yamask takes up Johana’s form when Red has it on, but I’m…not sure that it’s actually Johana who Red’s killing.

I feel bad for Michy too, she was just trying to help a Pokemon in need and then this psycho comes in, I really hope she’s okay but I’m not holding my breath. Actually, if anything the thing that interests me the most is what’ll come after this if Red succeeds, I mean this is what the story was hinging on but I’m only halfway through.

Chapter 6

And…Michy’s dead and I’m sad and you’re a horrible person.

That aside this chapter was a wild ride if I have to describe it. You had me scared for Michy’s fate, then you had me cursing at Red playing around with her and then you had me balling my fists really hoping for this guy to get punched at some point. The way Red’s dialogue warps and become the full chaotic ramblings of a madman kind of make him come off as a cartoonish villain but also work in an interesting way to selling the weight of the scene.

The part where he sucked out her blood was also quite unsettling and the prose itself went into its own chaotic streak as Red lost control of his mind for that moment, which leads into the part of the chapter that comes off left field for me.

Red’s always been very narcissistic and selfish from the point the story started, never really talking about his flaws or what he lacks unless it’s something relating to Helix and he usually shakes it off. So it was a bit odd to have this moment of self-awareness where Red realizes that he can’t just keep going crazy on people or he’ll mess up his own plans and dreams. It’s really weird to have this character epiphany after said character’s committed a gruesome murder, we’ve had some hints of his concern for his own mind before sure, but he’s never really revealed his insecurities so it ends up feeling a bit uneven.

I mean, on one hand we finally learn that Red realizes his own issues as a person and even he has someone he wants to strive to be like, we’ve had hints dropped throughout the story with how he’s obsessed with being powerful and unchained from the weight of society, probably a residue from the time he was a giant squid creature tonguing people’s faces, but nothing that goes far in detail.

Anyways, I know wonder what’ll happen, the main conceit behind this fic (both of them) have been taken care of by chapter 6 so where it’s going is completely in the air. Regardless, I wonder what Red’ll do now and if we’ll actually get to see more from the other characters.

 

[canisaries]

Believe it or not, I actually did some research today on TPP if only so that I could gain more understanding of this fic, that also led me to reading parts of the webcomic you made, I haven’t read the previous oneshots and Agape, but I do have more of a context on the background behind this story if that’s worth anything. But anyways, on to chapter 3.

Actually... I'm honestly considering making the comics non-canon to my stories. They're very different tone-wise, and the lore of the comics is kind of restricting me in terms of future ideas. Really the only impact removing them from the canon would have is making me have to come up with a new reason for Helix's young age (which shouldn't be hard, given He reincarnates) and the removal of one pretty irrelevant scene in Agápe.

This is mostly due to the pacing that the story takes, to the point where it’s settling into a formula of starting the chapter, then featuring a scene of Red fantasizing about killing someone or something, then some plot movement that justifies the chapter’s presence and then the end. Unfortunately the chapters end up being pretty long even though almost nothing of consequence happens in each one.

I will have to admit that with the earlier chapters, I kind of struggled to have enough material, but made them as long as they are to stretch out the beginning part of the story. But back when I did this, I assumed the rest of the story would be a lot shorter, which has now turned out to be false. So while I'm yet not sure how I could tackle the slow pace while still keeping in all the buildup needed for later, I'm thinking I'll get to tweaking it at least eventually.

For the formula, never noticed that. Huh.

I also just realized that I’m a bit confused on how Red was supposed to kill the Yamask. Like, was he supposed to keel an image in his head? Was he supposed to destroy the mask? At the end of the chapter the emphasis seems to be that Yamask takes up Johana’s form when Red has it on, but I’m…not sure that it’s actually Johana who Red’s killing.

The intended idea was that while being possessed by a ghost, your physical attempts to kill the ghost will actually work, you just have to find/catch it. The ghost can naturally hide, but first-timer ghosts might not know they should before it's too late...

And…Michy’s dead and I’m sad and you’re a horrible person.

(not pictured: me laughing like the piece of shit I am)

Aw, don't worry. I'm sure this isn't the last we'll see of her. *winks loudly*

Anyways, I know wonder what’ll happen, the main conceit behind this fic (both of them) have been taken care of by chapter 6 so where it’s going is completely in the air. Regardless, I wonder what Red’ll do now and if we’ll actually get to see more from the other characters.

Chapter 6 is without a doubt the most important in terms of story. You'll see why in due time.

Thanks for the comments, see you around.

 

[Flaze]

Chapter 7

It’s a new day and a new life for Red, who is strangely more ripped than I thought he was judging by your drawing of him at the end. Also, your art is really good, I don’t think I’ve ever said that before.

Anyways, the creepy factor in this chapter is mostly in the nightmare sequence at the start which I actually think worked quite well. It’s a bit confusing at first but you’re able to discern that it’s a dream pretty quickly and then the rest of the scene ends up feeling both scary but also cathartic, even if Red wasn’t actually getting what was coming to him. The second dream on the other hand felt a bit weird as it was hard to figure out where it started and where it ended since you just do a scene break in between scenes.

From then on it’s about Red revising himself in the oddest way possible, I wouldn’t say he quite does a character change or even that he changes much, it’s just that he starts trying a bit more even if it all seems fake. Like we all know who he is deep down and it does feel more like he’s playing pretend rather than genuinely trying to change himself so far.


Chapter 8

Red’s attempts to try and come off as a more open person continue and I almost bought them for a second. I think what I like most is how we get hints of who Red used to be before his merge, which does lead me to wonder if he was really right when he said that he would’ve turned out the same way regardless of whether he became obsessed with Helix or not.

However, this façade breaks pretty quickly once he doesn’t get what he wants out of Fonz and Helix. I like how things don’t go as easy as he thinks they will, the people he’s spent so long pushing away won’t just open up to him again because he starts acting half sane, especially when Red’s every action is still buried in disdain and manipulation.

This all comes to a head in the last third of the chapter where Red’s little dream battle doesn’t go the way he expects it and we even get to see Michi’s spirit come to haunt him, which puts new meaning to the title. In a way it makes sense for Michi to be the one that actually haunts Red as she’s the one we saw him effectively hunt in the story itself.

But anyways, it remains to be seen just what Michi’ll do and what Red’ll do in turn. Me, I’m hoping he gets punched but who knows.


Chapter 9

This chapter felt longer to me for some reason, maybe it’s cause a lot happened in it, either way this one was one of the most psychedelic chapters in the story so far, with a lot of moments of the chapter making me question what was actually going on or not. Mainly it seems like Red’s starting to really lose whatever semblance of sanity there’s left in him, which is understandable considering how his attempts to change really just trying to hide how crazy he’s becoming.

I think that conceit is what makes the scene at the supermarket works as for a second we’re led to believe that something terrible did happen, then we wonder if Red just lost it and killed someone without realizing it, before its revealed that it’s just his mind going out of control again. These moments do a great job of showing us Red’s insecurity and fear of losing a hold of himself without meaning to but also highlights the fear of authority that he thought he dominated a couple of chapters back.

The dream sequence too felt inspired and you’re actually really good at portraying dreams and illusions in a way that’s engaging and also traps the reader’s own mind, like I really can’t undersell how good you are at building tension and twisting expectations in the most gruesome of ways.

I do feel Red’s transformation went on for a bit too long, there’s too much description in this part which is a weird contrast to the otherwise quick pacing of the prose in the rest of the scene, it’s also a bit confusing on whether Red was actually being haunted or not since it seems like Michi was just a dream he was having, but I’m not quite sure we’ve seen the last of her yet.

 

[Flaze]

Chapter 10

I don’t know if Abe is that much of a pushover or if everyone really just doesn’t give much of a crap about Red that he can spend multiple days dying of sickness and hunger and no one would think to, maybe, contact a doctor. It’s weird that I’m worried about a character that I actively want to see get punched I guess but it’s still a strange hiccup.

Two things were definitely right about this chapter, it really was shorter than all the others and it also wasn’t for the faint of heart. I gotta ask, what motivated you to go for that gross-out intestine related description, like it’s a lot of detail to be put into the process of puking and being sick. In a way it’s not surprising as this is a story that involves gore, but it also feels a bit out of left field, I also wonder how you know so much about the body both on the outside and inside to be able to come up with such detailed descriptions.

Anyways, Red willingly going to see the psychologist predictably isn’t going to go as he expects it, at this point I’m again wondering where the story is heading since you said that it was more than halfway done.


Chapter 11

I guess it’s fitting that the shortest chapter is followed by what I think is the longest. Chapter 11 was…a real doozy and it was very clear that somehow the story is starting to reach its conclusion. This chapter completely delved us into Red’s psyche and showed us at his weakest, causing him to finally realize a lot of the insecurities and complexes that even he himself wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

I also liked this therapy session more than the first one, I think it embodied that cat and mouse game I wanted in the original, even if I do have to agree with dp’s comments that maybe the therapist acted a bit too concerned with Red’s diagnosis. The scene with the spiders also made me laugh a lot just because of how absurd it was and how obvious it was that it was a dream, to the point I wonder just how gone Red is that he can’t notice it. In fact, his realization of this was the bow on top.

The scene that really got me was the one at the end with Helix’s suppose appearance. Again, you’re really good at creating chaotic scenes and in this case it worked really well for shaping a supposed apocalypse. In general I think the prose in this chapter worked really well with how quick, messy and deranged it became, but that helped in selling what was going on all the more.

The reveal at the end, if it really is what Red thinks it is, does feel like a bit of a cop out. In a way it makes sense, after all Red’s things very easily throughout the story, but in another way I think it’d be an easy solution for Red, like it would be great if it was all in his head and this is just his brain and consciousness catching up with him. Regardless, I only have one more chapter till I catch up and I’m quite curious to see what’ll happen.

Chapter 12

This chapter was exactly what I expected and at the same time, I’m still unsure of whether Joanna’s really still alive or if all of this isn’t an illusion. It seems Red himself isn’t sure anymore either as his gambit to try and take out Joanna once and for all ends up giving her even more power, every time he lets his power fantasies go crazy and gets overconfident it only gives his opponents and chance to strike at him harder and I feel like, if he does fall, he’ll fall because of his own fragile pride.

But anyways, much like Red I’m wondering just what is real and what isn’t, I can buy the police actually being after him if Michi is still alive…except that Michi doesn’t really have much proof and if she really had tattled on him then the police would’ve gone after him earlier wouldn’t they?

The other thing that stood out to me was the whole sequence in the forest, I can take carving out the phrase, but since I don’t understand how Pokemon work in this world very well it does leave me scratching my head when I think about Pidgey being able to learn to talk so quickly like that, it makes them come off more like parrots even though Pidgey are supposed to be pigeons if anything.

And of course there’s our required chapter fantasy, this time being Red torturing Joanna’s brother. It shocks me a little that Joanna, should she be real, can get taken aback by Red’s trick since she should know it’s just an illusion (and that while Red in real life can be scary I doubt that he can actually do much unless literally everything goes his way), this is another aspect that makes me doubt whether the whole thing is real…we don’t actually see Joanna in either of her forms and while we get a lot of hints that this could be her playing with Red’s mind, all of those hints could also easily fall into Red’s own brain playing tricks on him.

Throughout all this I really feel bad for Abe, I read Puppy Dog Eyes before reading this so I know that he’d already been wondering if Red was okay or not and it’s not easy to get confirmation that, no, his brother is definitely not okay and he’s just been ignoring it all this time. I hope that we can touch on how all of this has affected Abe at least a little.


Which gives me a nice segue into talk about the fic overall now that I’m caught up.

Right off the bat I want to get out the fact that your grammar is near perfect, I’m not that good when it comes to noticing all the nuances in word choices and grammar so I can’t honestly say, but I didn’t find any mistakes or typos that jumped at me through this and I think this is what helped in building the nice flow that’s formed when you read the chapters.

Your prose and description is another thing that stands out. You have a way with crafting and exploiting tension and it shows in the level of detail that you put for everyone of the “scary” scenes, whether it’d be suspense, gore, body horror or just…stomach horror I guess, you really just have a knack for the uncanny and it’s the thing that sells the fic the most.

The other thing that helps in getting the fic across is Red’s voice, which can be creepy or ironically comical depending on the tone and carries the story successfully. This is especially true when it comes time for the story to play around with what’s real or not and all the twists and turns really undercut our own perception of the fic’s reality.

Unfortunately not everything is perfect. I think the biggest issue that your story has going for it has to be its pacing and the nature of its plot. Considering how simple the concept for the story is it’s still a bit shocking that it’s managed to stretch for so many chapters. In theory that shouldn’t be so surprising considering that, if played around enough, simple concepts can be milked for a lot.

However, when you really start to judge what happens in the story…there’s not much to it. There’s been four arcs which essentially revolve around three chapters of build up and one of pay off every set of three chapters, this causes the story to feel really slow and makes you wonder just how long everything’s going to go and how much you’ll have to wait. At first this materializes in Red living out his life while trying to figure out how to deal with Joanna and Michi, then it’s Red’s initial dreams interspersed with his attempts at becoming a “normal” human, every chapter since chapter 9 has shaken things up at least but it’s still worrisome that the fic seems to be spinning its wheels a lot.

There are two things that fuel this argument. The first one is how much time the story spends with Red’s fantasies. Don’t get me wrong, I know they’re supposed to show us different aspects of his character or act as build up or moments that defy our expectations of what will happen, but there’s one every chapter and they usually go on for a while, heck we technically had two in chapter 11 and two in chapter 12. The way the story uses them isn’t bad, but rather how long it spends on them and how the reader can become used to them to the point where they end up becoming stale.

The second aspect is the characters. Hunter, Haunted is very much the Red show at all times, which means that we don’t actually focus on anyone else unless it directly involves Red. Even then, we don’t really know much about Michi, or Abe or even Red’s Pokemon. I think this does a disservice to the story as, based on what I read from your comics, you manage to do banter quite well and I think that seeing other characters interact and the like could’ve made for more interesting dynamics.

Heck, you could’ve taken the Death Note route and had Red and a few other characters look into the murders, with Red using that chance as a way to prove his innocence to others and also bury any evidence (or witnesses that come up), you could’ve also taken more of a look into Red’s and Abe’s relationship, an aspect that I found interesting in Puppy Eyes. I know that both of these approaches clash with your vision for Red and of the story, but it’s just something that could’ve both driven more life into the events of the story and also helped us gain a look at other characters that aren’t Red.

Actually, speaking of characters, Red himself isn’t excused. He’s entertaining, creepy and easy to loath, but that’s kind of it. His psychotic schtick can become stale fast when there’s nothing particularly thrilling going on and aside for his attempts at “becoming a better person” his character doesn’t really change or growth, in fact whatever change or growth he tries to strive towards is really only pretended and something he only does cause he realizes that if he doesn’t do it he’s bound to mess up at some point. Again, he’s still entertaining, but I wouldn’t say he’s a fully realized character who grows.

Of course he doesn’t actually have to grow or change either, I think it’s not necessary considering the nature of the story and the fact that you do give us more of a look into how he works every once in a while, such as the fact that Red secretly loathes the world because he actually sees himself as weak and as thus has to pretend to be someone strong. But either way it’s something to take into account.

Other than that, I’ll be waiting for chapter 13 and seeing what ends up happening with our little psycho.

 

[diamondpearl876]

Post-awards for Red! I'll be back when I'm caught up on reading again.

Depth

It's there, no doubt. And there has to be, given the style the story's written in and the focus of what happens for the plot. Red, a rather proud serial killer, is having trouble bridging the gap between his life as it is and the time he'll transcend into being a vessel for Lord Helix the omanyte. He's gotten himself in a pickle once or twice, and his sanity, naturally, has been questioned by other people in his life as well as by himself at some point in the story. Thus starts a cycle of Red scrutinizing himself, deciding what he wants to change about himself, and then figuring out how to implement said changes in his everyday life. There's a lot to scrutinize and a lot to change; the author does a damn good job at creating and writing from the POV of a multi-faceted character.

My main and only complaint is that Red has... almost no redeemable qualities. Sure, the story focuses on him trying to appear redeemable, but at his core, he knows and the readers know that there is almost nothing redeemable. He's callous, violent, misanthropic to an extreme level... The list could go on. I can't find any positive traits in his personality other than, perhaps, loyalty toward Lord Helix. Except even then, that's being challenged and rejected by Red himself in this particular story.

Development

Again, Red's spending a lot of this story trying to improve himself as a person until he transcends past being a normal human. He's having a lot of trouble, though, to put it mildly. For every bit of progress he makes, he's forced into taking two steps backward either due to what appear to be hallucinations, an obstacle happening that he's not in the right mindset to handle properly, or something else. While the development's not there yet, the effort into having it happen has been fascinating to read.

Originality

Red's original in the sense that he's not a character I see often in Pokemon fanfiction, and the way the author writes his internal monologue is unique due to all the little quirks he has. There's also originality to be found in the author's interpretation of the canon Red's from (TPP), although it's not explored in-depth enough for me to talk about this area properly.

Entertainment Value

Well, I certainly enjoy reading Red's POV. I'm a sucker for depressing themes and internal struggles. His quirks again help in this department. They add some humor and amusing imagery/jokes that help lighten the mood once in a while.

Contribution to the Plot

See, this is interesting. Red's not contributing to the plot because the plot's controlling him. His troubled mindset, the ghost-type he tried to kill, Lord Helix, the therapist he's visiting, Michi - they all have a grasp on Red to the point where all of his actions and thoughts are dictated by them to some extent. That's pretty fascinating to me.

 

[canisaries]

EDIT: This chapter has been revised as of 16 April 2019.

COME ON AND SLAM
AND WELCOME TO THE next chapter of hunter, haunted. we are nearing the end of the story, only two or three chapters after this one. i haven't received any critique from my betareaders on this yet but i'll just edit changes in later if they say anything

i don't think this one has any especially gruesome content that needs tagging, but there is more language than usual

enjoy

---

CHAPTER 11
Got You Now

---​

I didn't hear any more utterances of that destructive phrase on my way back to the graveyard, only ordinary birdsong. I’m too sick of speculation to wonder what that could imply.

I exit the iron gates of the empty graveyard, their hinges screeching. It gives me shivers, but no one seems to be around the vicinity, either. Must be a slow day. Though I can't imagine yards of corpses being very popular on any other non-memorial non-funeral days.

Funeral. If I died, what would my funeral be like? Would anyone have anything positive to say about me? Would anyone show up? Well, Abe would, and so would Fonz and the omanyte. Maybe my old teammates would. Jess, Angel, Jordan… ATV? I don't know if ATV would have the capacity to understand funerals. In a way, that makes us alike.

But this is assuming a funeral would be held. I hear those are expensive, and the one mostly responsible for our finances is my mother. Would she hold a funeral for the son she hates, the son who hated her? Maybe she would, just to celebrate.

No, cut that out. You're not going to die, and to make sure of that, you need to focus on the task at hand. Keeping illusions at bay and yourself out of the cops’ sight.

Eyes peeled and ears perked for any blue uniforms or sirens, I continue on my way to the library. None seen or heard yet. Maybe Abe didn't snitch on me after all, or he fell for the beach lie.

What's that over there? Oh, just a poliwrath. A civilian. I can't avoid civilian sightings in the long run, so I should just get used to them now.

Alright, at the hospital now… a few more civilians appear, two across the street and one coming towards me. That’s a big guy. Wait, he seems familiar...

...oh Gods, I know that guy. And judging by the look he’s giving me, he recognizes me too, fuck!

“Hey!” shouts the buff thirty-something Unovan with the Wheel of Arceus hanging from his thick neck. It’s clear he’s got a bone to pick with me. My legs have frozen, unsure where to run, if to run at all.

Do I take the knife out? It’s what spooked him off the last time, but he might call the cops on me if I do it now. He certainly has the look of someone who’s not going to give up so easily this time around.

Dammit, it’s too late to run now, I twiddled my thumbs for too long and now he’s way too close! I guess I just have to try and resolve this quickly through verbal means…

The man points a finger at me. “You!” He stops only an uncomfortably small distance away, really making the best of his stature as he towers over me. This time, he actually does intimidate me, but this time he actually does pose me a risk.

He crosses his burly arms, his jacket’s fabric tightening. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about our meeting the other day, and I really regret not setting you straight, so I’m gonna do it now!”

Better put the plan in motion before he goes full lecture mode.

“L-listen,” I stutter, shrinking my body. ”I’m really, really sorry about what happened at the bus stop.”

Arcean raises a brow. He probably wasn’t expecting that response. “You are?”

“Yes, yes, I am. I shouldn’t have acted like that,” I say, sweeping aside my hair. “I was having a really bad day and I wasn't thinking str-”

“Hold on,” he interrupts. What, what is it?

His stare seems fixed a little to the side of my face. Is he looking past me or at my temple… oh, dammit. I know which.

His fingers, like nanabs, point towards where he's looking. “Are you hurt?”

He must be looking at the wound from earlier when I still had the bright idea of carving off my face.

“It's fine, that's from an accident,” I try, swiping off the dried blood that had leaked from the wound, but now the guy's looking at my left hand. The one with the… something carved on it. I guess cuts like that do bleed, and checking my hand… they bleed a lot.

“That's also from an accident,” I quickly add. “I've had a clumsy day…”

“Show me,” he says, reaching for my hand. No, that's none of your business, asshole! I yank it away and hide it behind my back.

“No, it's fine, really.” I shuffle past the Arcean, but he grabs my wrist by force.

“No, let me see,” he says, leaning in to get a better view of the palm. I close my fist, but apparently too late.

“Exorcism?” he mumbles. “Did you do that? Did someone do that to you?”

I manage to tear my hand away from his hold and bring it to my chest. “It’s seriously fine, please just let me go!”

He pulls out a phone. “Do you need me to call someone?”

My entire body twitches. “No! Don’t call anyone!”

He’s staring at me with worry and shock on his face. Oh my Gods, he’s definitely going to call someone, no matter what I say. I need to get the hell away from him. With a head start, I may be able to get to the library and get Joanna out of my head before they catch up to me. With a clear mind, I have a way better chance of getting away.

Saying no more, I leap to a run, never looking back despite anything the Arcean shouts.

There it is! The big chunk of a building with the white grainy walls and black roof, the library. Thank the Gods, my lungs are dying. I was too panicked to pace myself and just went the whole way on a sprint.

Coughing and gasping to remove the sting in my lungs, I swerve to the front yard and jog to the front doors. Thank the Gods again - even if I only have one and that one isn’t included in the pantheon referenced - that the library is such a comfy place. The freshly baked buns’ smell will replenish my stamina in no time.

I yank the doors open and step in and oh fuck I forgot, the renovation! The foul stench of new paint, rubber and too many spices nearly make me collapse. Should not have drawn that in so fast and so desperately. Well, just give me a couple more coughs and I’ll be okay enough to keep going…

“Whoa, are you okay?” asks someone.

Having finished coughing, I give a wheezed ‘yes’ and continue deeper into the building.

I head for the Fact section, but slow down my pace as I notice several people staring at me, the whites of their eyes well visible. Fuck are they staring at? Oh, right. The wounds.

“It’s just paint, don’t worry,” I say, pointing to them and smiling to ease the peoples’ minds.

I dive in between the bookcases, brushing past the plethora of books held up by the tacky, metallic squiggle shelves. The black rug beneath gives a spongy squeak for each of my steps. Ugh. It’s like every part of this renovation is actively competing for my disdain.

I navigate my way to the shelf on ghosts, its books still gloomy in coloration. I begin going through their backs, searching for anything on… I check my hand again. Exorcisms. That was the word.

The library was mostly quiet when I walked in, its soundscape only consisting of murmurs, muffled steps and pages being turned, but now I think… I think I hear something else. Like creaking. The sound is slow, drawn-out. Where’s that coming from? Actually, it seems to be coming from all around me, from multiple sources… oh my Gods, are those maybe some new tables already getting loose?

No, no. That doesn’t matter now. I can’t get distracted. But is that… is that shelf over there a little crooked?

My gaze jumps between the shelf’s surfaces and the ground. Are they parallel? Or are they a little different? I can’t pin down any difference, but there’s got to be something for me to pay any attention to it to begin with… it must be crooked. I knew it. Everyone is incompetent in this rotten world. I can’t wait to destroy this all.

Thump!

Was that a book falling down? Is someone being clumsy, or...

No, no, no, I need to focus! I only have limited time, I need to make use of it. I slap my face, only to flinch as the wound on the side complains. My palm is smeared with red. Right. No touchy. I wipe it clean on the skin of my forearm and slide the sleeve back down.

Having finished going through the books’ titles and not found anything specifically on this ‘exorcism’ business, I grab one generic-looking book - hey, this feels familiar… did I read this one the last time I was here? Well, doesn’t matter. I open its glossary and look for E. There. E, exorcism, better start at the end… there, pages 122-132 and 145. And I’m at page 172 right now. I flip through the pages, watching the numbers of the bottom corners slowly diminish as I slowly approach 122.

Thump! Thump! Thu-thu-thump! Thu-thump!

Fucking seriously? No human being can be that clumsy. Did a wild stantler run in? And what is with the creaking? It’s even louder than before! Aren’t libraries supposed to be quiet?

I slam the book shut - instantly regretting it as I realize my progress is reset. Fuck. I continue searching for page 122, this time from 56 on. May as well take a quick glance at just what the hell is making so much noise while the pages go by...

...what the fuck is that.

On the floor before me, there lie several books, carelessly scattered around their original shelf - or more specifically, what’s become of their shelf.

The bicolor metal squiggle that used to coil around the rows of books has twisted into a new strange, irregular shape. Its jointy form looks even more like a serpent than before.

Its end suddenly bends upwards with a sharp screech. Chills crawl up my body.

The top and bottom side of the end begin to separate. The opening stops at about a forearm’s length, creating something that almost looks like a… maw.

Metallic shards erupt from the edges. Teeth. It is a maw.

Oh. Oh, okay!

“Really, now?” I laugh. “Shelf-snakes? I’m not gonna fall for that! You’re wasting your efforts.”

I turn my back on the metallic serpent and open my book again. The creature keeps screeching, but I ignore it, resuming the search for 122.

Yes, I’m nearing it now. 103, 109, 115, 119 --

“Excuse me, sir…”

“Son of a whore!” I spit, jerking my head towards whoever just tapped my left shoulder. Unfortunately, I recognize him in an instant.

“What the fuck do you want from me now?” I hiss at the Arcean’s stupid tauros face. To hell with politeness now. This guy has crossed the line.

“It's okay, it’s okay,” he says - dares to say - holding his palms up. “I’m here to help.”

“Help yourself the fuck away from me!”

“It's alright. I figured it out. I figured out your problem.”

“What problem?” Aw, shit, wait, no! If he knows something about me, he really shouldn't say it aloud!

I raise a palm before he can speak. “H-hold on. Can you just, uh, wait a moment?”

“I… sure, if it’s just a moment.”

I don’t know if it will be, but it’ll do for now. I’ll get to 122 in that time and know what to do after that.

Almost there! 120, 121, one two t…

It's blank.

I flip another page. The next opening is blank too. No 123, no 124. Just grainy white.

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

“...Actually,” I say to the Arcean to my left, “you can help me in one way.”

“What's that?” he asks, his gray eyes wide.

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

“...No?”

“Okay, thanks.” I reach my fingers inside my jacket. “Now, I need to write something down… do you have a pen on you?”

“Uh, lemme s-”

As he looks down and pockets his hands, I draw out my knife. I let the book go to grab the Arcean’s neck and bring the blade to it. The book reaches the floor with a thump.

“Wh-”

“Don't fucking move!” I growl. “Understand?”

“Y-yes.”

I slide closer to the guy to get a better grasp, which frankly still isn’t great given his massive size, but it seems to be working well enough.

Either way, I face the shelf-serpent again. It’s gotten a lot closer... my sudden motion seems to have frozen it for now, though.

“I’m done with the games,” I whisper to Joanna. My breathing’s gotten heavier from the surge of tension. “Show the pages, or I’ll kill him. And I know you don’t want any more people to die.”

“What?” the Arcean whimpers.

“Not you! I’m talking to...”

I sigh. I shouldn’t say her name. In case the cops haven’t found out yet, that’d be a clue.

“What’s your name?” I ask the man.

“F-Father Samson.”

Father? Unexpected, but matters not. “Samson, whenever I say your name first, that means I’m talking to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Alright, good.” I look at the book on the floor. “Samson, let’s crouch.”

Slowly but surely, we squat, Samson following my level with a slight delay.

“Okay, now stop.” He does as ordered, though trembles with uncertainty… right, I didn’t say his name. I nod to confirm he did as I wanted. He sighs. I briefly wonder if I should instruct him to keep still next, but figure he’s doing a good enough job of it already. Man, holding a hostage is tougher than I expected. How do those criminals make it look so natural? Oh, right. I’ve really only seen them in movies. Anyway...

I transfer the knife from my right hand to my left, still keeping its edge close to the Arcean's throat, and pick up the fallen book with the right hand.

“Samson, back up.”

“Like… walk backwards, or get up again...”

“Get up again. Reverse of crouching.”

“Okay, just making --”

“Now, Samson,” I stress, and he gulpingly obliges.

We rise as carefully as we descended, him trying his best not to get cut and me trying mine not to give him any window of escape.

“To the table,” I command, and we shuffle to a table not too far away. I lower the book on the table and open it. The pages are still blank.

“Not Samson,” I clarify to the man beforehand before focusing back on the book, “show them.”

No change.

I tilt my head. “Remember what we did back at the cabin? That counting down from ten thing? Let's do that again. It went so well the last time. So, once I hit zero, Father here will die, okay?”

“Wh-what?”

“Samson, shut up!” A bit of foam exits my mouth. Gross, but I don’t have a hand free to clean it off, so I’ll live with it. “Here we go. Ten, nine, eight…”

“This is the police! We have you surrounded! Drop your weapon now!”

Oh, the police are shouting? How convenient for them to show up right this second, huh, Joanna? You must think I’m stupid. The countdown continues.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“Drop your weapon or we will shoot!”

It’s not going to work! “Four! Three! Two!”

Spots of black begin appearing on the pages. Finally. I can see a page number. 94. I reach down and flip a small stack of pages. 116. I go through them individually. More and more letters appear on the white.

Then it's finally there. Page 122.

I’ve… I’ve looked at this page before. I’m sure of it. Exorcism, a ritual in which a hostile spirit is removed from a person or place. There are fatal and non-fatal ones, the former being one that destroys the spirit entirely and the latter only removing it from the target… I remember reading this. And I remember reading… flip, flip… yes, there are instructions here! I just need to --

“Freeze!”

“Shut up! It’s not going to --”

My gaze has lifted from the book, and what it shows has turned me to stone.

The background is grayish and blurry. I think I can see a bunch of human figures standing some distance away. They have blue-tinted clothes and some mon beside them. There’s too much blur to tell their species, all I can say is that they’re pretty big.

In front of those people, there lies the metal snake, now joined by more of its kind. Their jaws, along with their triangular teeth, all point towards me.

But all the way in the front, the closest to me… it’s her.

A shadow in midair. Big red eyes, leaking fluid. Two arms and a tail that hold onto a mask - a golden mask of her face, expression apathetic.

“Red.”

She speaks with a human voice, her old voice, the one I haven’t heard since that day I took her life.

Everything else has quieted. The screeching of the metal, the mumbles of the library, the breathing of my hostage. It’s only her and me now.

“What is this?” I whisper. “Why would you show yourself to me?”

Her fingers grip the mask a little tighter. “I’m offering you a way out.” Her voice is shivering.

“A way out?”

“I’m allowing you to kill me.”

Kill… her? Is she saying that really is her real form?

“Stab me and I’ll be gone from your mind. F-forever.”

She blinks. Droplets of maroon escape her eyes, only to disintegrate halfway through their journey towards the floor.

“...Why now?” I ask. “And… you know they’d help you out of me. You know you’d live. Why would you get yourself killed now?”

“Because I don’t want to live!” she snaps, taking her hands off the mask and balling them into fists. “Do you even know how much fucking damage you’ve done to me? Have your fucked up fantasies stuck in my mind forever? S-see Michi die over and over again?”

She hugs herself with trembling hands. “A-and when they get me out of you, who’s to say you won’t just find a way to squirm out of whatever you’d deserve? You lie like it’s second nature to you, and you’ll do anything to save your own ass. Maybe you’ll go on the run and I’ll have to spend the next seventy years fearing that you’ll come finish me off. Maybe you’ll use the insanity defense. It wouldn’t be far from the truth!”

She glares at me, but quickly recoils and looks at the floor instead.

“I just...” she quietly continues. “I-I know I’m not gonna have a natural death anyway. It’s better to end this when I still… when I still have hope.”

I stare at her in silence. Her pitch-black form, her leaking downcast eyes. Her fingers running along the edge of her mask. She looks like she's waiting to hear her sentence for an accidental felony. But in this situation, she wants the capital punishment.

I'm not a guy who often empathizes with others… but I think I understand how she feels.

It doesn't make sense in my logic why she feels this way, but feeling like it… I get why she wants to be gone. Because, a few years ago, after He first died… I felt just like her.

It passed when I met HIM and found out He wasn't truly gone. But Joanna… she doesn't have a god on her side.

“...Okay.”

She looks up. Relief. But also fear. So weak and tired she is. But soon she'll rest… as I lay her to sleep.

I switch the knife to my right hand and shuffle a bit to make the coming strike easier. Samson tensely goes with it. I notice he's mouthing something. It can't be to the cops, since no one could see it from his previous angle, so he's probably… praying. Sure, that'll help.

But I guess it's good to have him preoccupied with something. There's likely no time for him to try anything while I swipe at Joanna and bring the knife back as is, but I have nothing against odds even better.

“Close your eyes,” I tell Joanna. “That way you can't dodge.”

She nods and shuts her eyes, more otherworldly liquid oozing out between the lids. She holds her mask low, body exposed.

I draw in a deep breath. It’s odorless. Maybe I’m numb to the smell already, or maybe it’s some effect that comes from Joanna. Either way… I’m ready.

I raise the knife and swipe.

Like a scyther’s limb, the blade cuts the air. It meets the ghost's body and tears through it like drenched paper.

The impact has opened her eyes. I guess even ghosts aren't immune to reflexes. But it's too late for her. Her body's halves break up further, into pieces smaller and smaller. She corrodes, and the mask joins her, both eaten away by an unseen acid… until nothing is left.

It's done. I'm free.

Weight lifted off my shoulders, I draw back my knife.

But there's no knife.

I stare at my hand. Just a bare palm, no blade, no hilt. I look past it, sharpening the background.

A steely cluster floats in the distance. It has three eyes. A magneton. There’s a golden badge stuck to one of its lower magnemite. On one of its magnets - the knife.

It needed me to take the edge away from the hostage so that it could pull it away safely.

Someone shouts something. My left arm is thrown off Samson. A second or two later, both my wrists are grabbed and yanked behind my back.

The air before me thickens and darkens. Joanna appears. Reappears. Her eyes are stern, fearlessly on me.

“You…”

I don't get to finish the sentence, whatever it was, as strong hands grasp my shoulders and begin to push me.

No, I… I can't go with them. I'm not done here. This isn't how it's supposed to go. I can't be caught, I can't be --

“You are.”

No waver in her voice.

Foreign arms are slipped underneath my own. They bend and pull. I can't keep my balance and lose my footing. But they don't mind. They keep dragging. My shoes graze the rubber mat.

A full thought is finally completed. I speak it out loud.

“You tricked me.”

“That I did,” she responds, hovering by and keeping up with my moving body.

“But you said… you said you didn't want to live with these memories.”

She snickers. “You really think you're that impressive? In a few dozen years, I doubt I'll even remember your name.”

This… this can't be real. It can't be. It…

My face twists into a grin in realization.

“Oh, it's just another illusion!” I laugh. “You really had me there, wow! B-but I've seen through it. You haven't won yet!”

The grin trembles at her unchanging face.

“Try it,” she says. “Try to escape. Try to see through it. We both know you can do that with my illusions.”

I will. I will! I'll prove it's fake! Your condescending tone is just there to make me lose focus!

Okay, concentrate. Concentrate on the cops. The uniforms. Blue, buttons, badges. Their faces. Eyes, mouths, the strands of their hair, the pores on their skin. The hair on the arms dragging me…

I can't spot anything out of place.

But I just haven't focused enough, right? I need more time, more effort. They're fake, they've got to be. I can't really have been caught. I just need to find the right detail to prove it. I-it's in there. It's in there somewhere! It's g-got to be. This can't possibly be…

The metal threshold of the front doors knocks into my feet. The cool outside air pours in. There's a white police van parked outside.

This…

“This is r-real,” I whisper.

“Told you,” Joanna whispers back.

“D-do they...”

“Yes. They know what you did, thanks to all the clues I left them when you weren’t looking.”

No. It can’t be.

I turn my head to the group of cops. “This is all a mistake!” I yell. “I’ve done nothing!”

They ignore me, instead surrounding the van. One opens the back doors. An arcanine walks into view, vest on. Its vigilant eyes lock onto me as I’m dragged ever closer to the vehicle.

“You can’t squirm your way out of this, Red,” Joanna spits, the last word drenched in contempt.

A ramp is pulled out of the holding area and positioned on its edge. They’re gonna put me in there, yep. I need to get the fuck away before they can lock me up.

I jerk my body away from my captors, but their arms don’t budge. Not with this, not with any of the following ten. No twisting or flailing is helping - I think they’re just holding on even tighter.

The cell awaits right before me, its doors fully open like the maw of a gyarados about to swallow me up in one gulp. Like its prey, I lean as far away from it as I can, but the arms locked around mine still pull me closer slowly and surely. There’s no escape.

As my shoes drop off the ramp and onto the cell’s floor, they fling me in with one quick chuck. I stumble and turn, realizing one last chance to escape the monster’s maw - but the arcanine blocks the entrance. It shoves itself in, and my last hope dies as the doors slam shut.

“No...” I wheeze.

The cops leave the gridded window. Only Joanna remains there.

“It’s over,” she says as the motor starts up. “I’ve won. And now...”

The van nudges into motion.

“You’re going to face the consequences of your actions.”

---

Spoiler: tonally appropriate comic

 

[Flaze]

I sigh. This isn't something I need to think about. I’m simply not going to die. I’m going to merge with the god of chaos and live in eternal bliss

Well someone's in denial.

124, 123, one two tw

One two? oh did you mean to say one two two?

Anyways, the chapter itself gave me what I really wanted the most at the very end, however the fact that this is still not the end of the story means that Red'll probably pull some play that allow him to retaliate. That and the fact that things are going a little too smoothly for Joanna. That being said, I really like how you played with both Red's and our expectations. Making both him and the audience wonder what's real or not or whether all of it is actually happens is a good way to make us doubt, but I was really glad when it turned out that Joanna really was still around and playing tricks with her.

I also give her kudos for cornering Red in the best way possible, even giving him what he wanted just so that he'd move the knife away from the hostage long enough for the knife to be taken from him. Will say though, I was surprised the big guy came back at all, and much less that he'd turn out to be...very religious apparently, that's a weird dichotomy I'm still trying to wrap my head around.

This leads me again to wonder where this will all lead. Also, we didn't' really get more character interaction, I mean we did but it was mostly between Red and Joanna, I can't exactly count big dude since he's a minor character and he's mostly just there as a convenient plot device. Anyways, I'll be looking forward to the next chapter, and more now that things are nearing their end.

 

[Ambyssin]

So, I have never paid much attention to TPP, but I've seen the Helix memes (thanks, Wonder trade). I was definitely curious about the sort of supernatural horror angle that the summary gave off, so I decided to give this a glimpse. Though, I'm really not much of a horror expert, so maybe take everything I have to say with a grain of salt. Or just ingore it. Won't matter much to me. ^^;

I've only read the prolouge and chapter 1 (initial thoughts on those below), but from what I've seen, it's pretty chilling so far. You've got me sold on how unhinged Red is. It's very consistent. Even in the quieter, supposedly more lucid moments there are hints that something's not exactly right. If I had to fault anything, it's just that I have a lot of trouble (regardless of how much Helix has messed with his brain and he's taken up dissection), seeing Red casually drop clinical terminology into his thoughts. Maybe you're channeling a Hannibal Lecter style or something, but some moments (like "slashing their carotids,") read as a bit stiff for me. Not enough to really bother me, but it was noticeable considering most of the time his tone is pretty quick and informal. For all I know, that's been fixed in the more recent chapters. I guess I'll just have to read on to find that out.

Prologue
This is very jarring. Or maybe I'm just easy to impress, deceive. You go into very grizzly detail about everything that's happened here. Don't worry, I'm not super duper disturbed. I work with cadavers at my job, so all of this is likely a slightly twisted day at the office, in some capacity. At least for the beginning, where the main character's getting their bearings, I like that there were implementations of different senses. Touch and proprioception get the most focus here, and I think you kind of glossed over hearing. But, given the scenario here, there was some rightful detail with smell and taste that gave me a bit of a clearer picture through all of the initial haze.

The body description brings something almost canabalistic to mind. I don't know why I was thinking Silence of the Lambs. Maybe because of the organ harvesting bit at the end. Or the fact that there was the occassional use of clinical terminology in there. I didn't mind it, of course. But when you're trying to suck the reader into the gruesome scene, casually dropping in a piece of connective tissue the average person doesn't know/care about (like the greater omentum) is the type of thing that might suck a reader out. I mean, it makes sense given what you show of the protagonist here and what they can do. I just thought I'd point it out, anyway.

Anyway, I thought it was a pretty solid glimpse at a post-ritual situation. Kind of felt Satanic in some regards. But it was probably all the guts and stuff lying around that made me think that way.

Ch 1
I'm glad I get the confirmation early on that this is Red. I figured it was, but it's nice to see that show up in the story proper. Something that through me off about the beginning is how overdescribed it felt when Red was waking up. I think the disconnect for me is with the first-person voice. I get that Red's not a normal character, but I see first-person and think inner monologue. So, hearing him, say, describe the sky as a "cloudy semi-translucent blanket," while a cool mental image, feels more like it's meant for a different narration style. It's not some sort of deal-breaker or anything. It was just a little weird for me.

The following details are interesting though, as someone who's unfamiliar with TPP lore. It looks like this is after Red's crazy adventure, meaning he's still got some sort of crazed obsession with Helix. Though, maybe I sense he kind of wished that he didn't? He's living with one of the other TPP protags, from the sound of things, who's trying to get him counseling, apparently. I think I do like the little touches in the narration where Red keeps having to correct himself about omanyte not being the true Helix but some sort of vessel. It's just a little consistency that brought a smile to my face. In a, "this guy's totally nuts," kind of way. Which is only emphasized by the abrupt mood whiplash that is the scene at the checkout line swapping to Red mentally screaming bloody murder at everyone in the grocery store. And I like that it basically just pauses for that brief exchange with the cashier, and then immediately lapses back into it, this time scolding himself because his thoughts actually weren't ambitious enough for Helix, who does not sound like my kind of god. XP

And then, of course, the ending, which (as the summary to this hinted at) suggests that Red has really screwed this up. I like that it ended up happening in the graveyard, both because of the rise from the dead aspect, but also because Red's monologuing made it sound like his "ascension" was meant to help him conquer mortality; that is, conquer death. So walking over a bunch of dead bodies is almost like some sort of symbolic representation of that dream. Or I'm reading too far into things, because I'm crazy.

 

[canisaries]

Thank you very much for picking up this fic! I don't get new readers often, especially ones that give commentary.

I was definitely curious about the sort of supernatural horror angle that the summary gave off, so I decided to give this a glimpse. Though, I'm really not much of a horror expert, so maybe take everything I have to say with a grain of salt.

lol don't worry about it, neither am I xp I've read no horror at all (no, not even Goosebumps), and the only horror movie I've watched is American Psycho which I'd say is only "horror" for the violence. The rest is great comedy and an ending I don't get because I'm a brainlet and too lazy to look up theories or read the book.

The body description brings something almost canabalistic to mind. I don't know why I was thinking Silence of the Lambs. Maybe because of the organ harvesting bit at the end. Or the fact that there was the occassional use of clinical terminology in there. I didn't mind it, of course. But when you're trying to suck the reader into the gruesome scene, casually dropping in a piece of connective tissue the average person doesn't know/care about (like the greater omentum) is the type of thing that might suck a reader out. I mean, it makes sense given what you show of the protagonist here and what they can do. I just thought I'd point it out, anyway.

Yeah, that's the problem with detailed gore - the more realistic you get with it, the more specific you have to be and since most people don't know the human body as detailedly as someone educated in it or like me, just very curious about it, I can understand if they get lost. But while I hate confusing readers, I hate being incorrect or unspecific even more ;p

The following details are interesting though, as someone who's unfamiliar with TPP lore.

I'd do the TPP fandom wrong if I didn't point out right now that my lore is deeefinitely one of the more outlandish ones. The "serial killer" Red is my characterization, even if its roots are in the more mainstream lore of TPP.

Or I'm reading too far into things, because I'm crazy.

Oh don't worry, there's plenty of symbolism coming up in this fic though I can't guarantee they're going to be anywhere near that subtle or clever.

Once again, thank you for your thoughts, and I hope you keep on reading! Some of the first chapters need some work, tbh, so it'd be great to hear what works and what doesn't in those.

 

[diamondpearl876]

Okay. Lots of shit happens in these two chapters. Hot damn.

First off, there's lots of mind tricks happening. Exactly what I'd expect from a ghost-type. And quite frankly, your writing has me confused about what's real and what's not at this point, which from a first person writing POV is a fun and wild thing to experience. That, and Red's mind is just obviously not in a good place, so who knows what he's hallucinating and who knows how much I can trust his narration?

Anyway, it's very clear how torn Red is about all this, so kudos there. It's a lose-lose situation for him; killing Joanna inside of him has consequences, but so does leaving her there. He tries so hard to time his actions properly that everything just backfires and then some.

I also enjoyed Joanna being able to trick Red herself by making him believe him torturing her brother in his mind hurt her and caused her to hide. Yet behind the scenes she was able to bring the cops right to him anyway and actually get him arrested, all the while just confusing him more and appearing like a badass right at the end. Which, of course, just angers him more and adds to the friction of the whole ordeal tenfold. His dialogue and actions to torture her were so antagonizing I wouldn't have been surprised if she just gave up then and there - especially since we don't get to see much of her personality before this, it was hard to know what to predict - but no, his ego got knocked down a couple more notches like it slowly has been this entire fic.

The violet lungs, fiercely pumping air in and out, the sight of them currently distressing their owner - people love their lungs for what they do, not so much for how they look. Especially in action.

Like this line a lot. Very vivid.

RED AKAI KILLED ME.

Who…? When? With what? Oh fuck, how long?

The repetition here works well. I do wonder still if the pidgey talking like this were just hallucinations, though.

I can't talk! I can't talk at all! My lungs are convulsing all on their own, my rib cage vibrating… what's the issue? What could possibly even be causing a tickling sensation inside m… oh fucking hell, not her again!

Man, this is an awkward scene. Pretty sure that was intentional, but just... the idea of Red actually succeeding in calming someone down, but then gets fucked over like this... he can't seem to catch a break. XD

“It’s paint, it’s paint,” I say, pointing to my head wound and smiling to ease their minds.

Ya shoulda just washed your face earlier, Red.

Anyway, I don't know how Red's going to get out of this, to be honest. I don't know if he can. But he's nothing if not determined, so if he finds an opening, I'm sure he'll take it. This review's kind of scattered because these two chapters likewise were all over the place as a result of the climax/action. Looking forward to how everything plays out!

 

[canisaries]

EDIT: This chapter has been revised as of 16 April 2019.

wtf it's been three weeks since the last chapter? damn

anyway, time to drop a new track. get ready for loser gets beat up (feat. evil catholics) by mc ""based"" canisaries. content warning for gore and why not language as well.

oh and almost forgot to say: in cased you didn't notice, i'm author of the month for march! somehow. be sure to check out my interview. or don't! the choice is yours. either way, this means reviews of this fic or any others of mine can claim 2 extra points in the review league! but just for this month alone, so chop chop bois this offer wont last forever it's over, big sad

okay, enough advertising. enjoy.

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CHAPTER 12
The Skin

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“Is it always so dark in here?”

The arcanine sitting across from me provides no answer. The space for a reply is merely filled by the rumble and hum of the police van as the mon continues to stare at me with its dark but vigilant eyes. At the front of the van, the rest of the police squad stay just as silent as the RK9.

I sigh and lean back onto the wall. The white block protruding from it doesn’t make for a terribly comfortable seat. The discomfort isn’t helped by my cuffed hands forcing an awkward curve to my back.

It seriously is dark in here. There’s no source of illumination save for the tiny gridded windows at the front and the back. Through their little square holes, the blue of the outside sky shines in, casting its faint, cold light on me and the mutt.

I don't know how long this ride is going take as I don't exactly know where I’m being taken, but I do know that it's someplace I really don't want to be. Then again, I suppose there's a scale to it. If I’m taken somewhere I can still possibly run away from, that's a small bad thing. If they're taking me straight to jail, that's a bigger bad. If they take me to a chair with cords coming out of it…

No, they have to take me somewhere before those latter two. Everyone gets a trial, right? And I don't even know how much evidence they have - they might not have enough, or at least not enough for the worst punishment for each of my crimes combined. Though that'd be several lifetimes, so just one step down from that won't be too much help.

And there's still the issue of the ghost in my head. If they don't have enough, she'd surely be glad to give them all they need via my own vocal chords.

I shudder, causing the metal cuffs to chafe into my wrists, which in turn draws out a discomforted grunt.

“Where are we even going?” I ask, though fully prepared for just more silence.

“We’ll be there soon,” says the arcanine, surprisingly enough. Her eyes are fixed on the window on the front. Oh, no need to actually pay attention to me. It’s not like I’m a serial killer or anyone important.

“Yes, but where?”

No answer. Back to this, I see.

“Where?” I demand.

The arcanine reacts this time, but only by rolling her eyes.

Oh, I’m a joke to you? Just an annoyance? I killed nine people. Eight of them I ripped apart and ate parts of. I stalked them all for weeks and made them vanish without a trace. I’m a cold-blooded killer, show some Gods-damn respect! Awareness of the situation! If I wasn’t cuffed, I’d have my hands around your stupid bitch neck! And that pun was unintentional!

An itch crawls onto my temple. Dammit, not now! I don’t have anything to scratch that… couldn’t you have appeared during any of the countless moments I’ve had with my hands free? Fuck, it’s getting stronger…

The arcanine gives me a strange look as the left side of my face severely twitches in a vain effort to ease the itch. Great, now I look like a stereotype. And the itch isn’t going.

I bend my head to the side, reaching for the shoulder. I rub the side of my face on it, but it’s too low to reach the itchy spot. Maybe the wall? I turn to it, but near immediately decide not to try my luck with it. Who knows what kind of filthy jackasses they’ve held in here. I don’t want any of the microbes squirming on this wall in my healing wound.

The humming that surrounds us changes pitch, and I’m pushed a bit towards the window. We’re slowing down. We stop.

Well, that was a short ride… I guess that’s good news for me, as I don’t think the worst places to end up in are anywhere near my neighborhood.

Seatbelts are unfastened, car doors opened, steps taken outside. The doors of the back swivel apart, letting in the outside light intense enough to draw my eyelids almost all the way shut. Between my lashes, black figures begin to take shape over the white. Black, then blue, then composed of many colors. One with reddish brown around its head leans in.

“Was he nice?” it asks. It’s a she, and a she with a voice I recognize. She was at the beach. She’s the red-haired policewoman. I glance at the arcanine, which now has stood up. I guess it’s the same one from then. Explains its attitude.

“Nice enough,” replies the mon as it leaps down onto the street. Its mane and tail catch the wind, beginning a fluttering dance. Yes, you’re so majestic, catching the bad guys, all heroic, we get it.

The red-haired woman climbs in, shoes clanking on the metal floor, and gestures me to get up. “Okay, buddy, let’s go.”

She’s smiling. Why is she smiling? I’m not a kid, I’m not a victim, yet her tone is so sweet. I was nice to her before, yes, but her opinion on me has to have changed after the information she now knows. So is she… mocking me? Is that what’s happening?

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. The time for possibly my only chance of escape is nearing and succeeding is priority number one.

I take my time standing up, letting my eyes adjust to the brightness. The view outside sharpens, revealing more cops. Quite a lot of cops. All their eyes are on me. My breathing gets shakier as the woman places her hand on my arm, the touch startling the limb.

I walk to the border of the floor and hop off, the woman escorting me the whole way. I look around. Every side seems to have an equal amount of people. Beyond them, plain woods surrounding this opening and some large, white building. Looks like there’s no crevice in the crowd for me to slip through… yet, at least.

“Is everything ready?” someone asks.

“Should be, yeah,” another answers. I hope I don’t have to stick around to find out what they mean.

The cops’ faces turn - nigh simultaneously, unsettlingly enough - to what lies ahead. We begin to move for the white building about a dozen meters away. Pretty bland looking, as this concrete cuboid seems to only have one door and not a single window. Is it some kind of storage? And where is the street? I look back, only to see a solitary asphalt road surrounded by more wavering trees. Is this a back entrance, or…

“Where am I?” I ask the redhead still by my side as we begin to move.

She gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, we’re here to help.”

Help…? How do you… help someone like me? Why would you?

This isn’t right. This is all wrong. Nothing makes sense. I need to get away, get the hell away from here before they drag me in through that door. I have a feeling that if I enter it, I won’t ever be coming out. And if I will, I won’t be doing so as the same man.

I keep my head still while I glance to my left. There’s a gap between two officers. My jaw tightens. It isn’t the best opportunity, but I know I won’t be able to forgive myself if I don’t try it and a new one never comes.

I try to calm my breathing, relax my shoulders, slow down my heartbeat. It has to be out of the blue. I blink. I’m normal. Yeah, I’m normal.

“Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi...” sings a pidgey somewhere. “Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-”

I ram my foot into the woman’s shin. As she recoils, I bolt for the gap. The surprised faces of the cops sweep past, then it’s just the spruces in front of me. I hear shouts from behind, but nothing’s touching me. Did I do it? I think I did it! I just need to make it to the woods and lose them --

Why are my wrists heavy?

They’re getting heavier. It’s the cuffs, they don’t want to follow me. I try to pull them closer but I just slow down, they’re even heavier and I can’t move, shit, no, no!

The spruces ahead, their sweet gate of freedom, are no longer approaching. My feet brush against the asphalt below in vain.

“Let me go!” I scream, yanking on my hands, the wrists rubbing against the cuffs frozen in midair. Then they move. Backwards. The trees recede. The fuck’s going on?

The force pulling on the cuffs only strengthens. I’m drawn back and no attempts at stopping myself are helping. My shoes just keep skidding on the ground as helplessly as the hooves of a deerling on ice.

The cops and the building return to my sight. I’m right where I started. Two men come at my sides, grabbing onto my arms. I struggle with fuck all results.

“Good job, Magnus,” I hear someone say behind me. I look over my shoulder to see one cop patting the back of a proud magneton. The same magneton that disarmed me at the library. Son of a bitch. This ugly thing keeps fucking up my plans...

“Come on, let’s go,” says the man to my right and tugs me towards the building. I give him a wrathful stare, standing my ground. He sighs. “Alright then.”

He and his partner grip my arms tighter and begin to drag me, my back to our destination. I try to anchor myself but find no success. I’m not getting away. Oh fuck, it’s hitting me, I’m not getting away.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask of the cops following us, voice near to breaking.

Their eyes all shoot at me, and they open their mouths. “We’re here to help,” they respond in unison.

I’m not going to ask anymore.

Okay. Okay. This is weird, but it can’t be so bad, right? This is Kanto, a civilized state. A democracy, a free region. They can’t do anything inhumane to me. That’s forbidden by law.

But they’re cops. They are the law. They decide the law. They have the power. They can do anything. Who’s going to stop them?

A creak arises from behind. We’ve reached the door.

As I’m pulled inside, the first thing I see is a closet by the doorframe. It's as white as the walls of the room, though everything’s dimmed to more of a gray from the lack of indoor lighting. It all darkens even further after the last cop of the group, having entered, begins to shut the door.

When the room has gone pitch black, the men dragging me take a sharp turn. With a click, the room illuminates again. I’m pushed onto my feet and let go. I twist around, taking in the new surroundings with haste.

I’m still in the same room, but now I see how large it is, and how… unbalanced. Most of the room is as blank as the building’s exterior, white walls broken up by only a few doors and the closet, but the front of the room...

Elegant arches. Crystal chandeliers hanging from the high roof, carpet of red velvet on the floor. Paintings of beautiful men, women and mon on the walls. Golden vine-like decorations running up and down all surfaces.

In front of all this, right next to me, a snow-white sheet covers something immobile and human-sized. Someone standing behind the whole thing. A man. Now he’s moving. He’s stepping into view. I see his face, his tall bulky figure, his pale hair and gray eyes and I realize who it is.

“What’s he doing here?” I demand from the policemen, but they’ve all turned away from me - towards the closet. The clacks from their shoes fill the room as they form a line in front of it. One by one, they open its door, pull out some kind of long, white garment and return to their spots.

I look back at Samson. He has one of those garments as well, hung around his arm. With that arm’s hand, he holds a leather-covered book opened in the middle. With the other hand, he fidgets with the spiny golden wheel of his necklace.

Golden...

I study the decorations of the room more closely. They too are golden and spiny with green gems embedded in them here and there.

This is an Arcean chapel.

Samson snaps the book shut and hands it to the red-haired policewoman. “Alright,” he announces, facing the crowd of cops. “We all appear to be present. Let us begin.”

A wave of swooshes rolls over the room as all its inhabitants - sans me, the arcanine and the magneton - put on their garments, shown now to be robes. Everyone but the giant has their hood on, hiding their face. Of them only the woman remains recognizable afterwards due to her locks peeking out.

The Arcean locks eyes with me. His face stays neutral, but those eyes… he really doesn’t like me. I guess that makes sense after I held him at knifepoint and all that. But that’s kind of where the sense making ends. Why was I brought to an Arcean chapel? Do they want me to hear a sermon on how murder is bad before they cart me off to prison? Does he want me to hear one and the cops are just going along with it for laughs?

“Sister Ronnie,” he says, prompting the woman to step up to the sheet-covered mystery object. “Please.”

Her delicate hands pinch the fabric and pull off the covering in one swoop.

It’s a board. Upright. Wooden, painted pure white. On it, two, four, six, eight, ten straps, symmetrically placed. White leather, golden buckles.

It’s not a sermon they’re planning.

I’m not staying here. I’m not staying here.

I turn and run, run for the door, into the sea of robed humans. Their arms rise, their hands grab onto me, but I don’t care, I have to get out.

“Move aside,” a robotic voice rises from the audience. All fingers suddenly let go, as if I had a deadly disease --

Pain! Fuck, it hurts! Stop! Stop!

The world has turned on its side. My limbs are thrown around like I was caught in a hurricane - no, four hurricanes, all in different directions.

It stops. My limbs still jitter. I can’t see right. Everything’s a mess. Is something touching me? Am I being dragged? I try to struggle, but I’ve forgotten how to move… some seconds pass, I think, I don’t think I can trust my sense of time right now. I hear speech, muddled, my chest is cold, I can see something, I can feel again… I’m… I’m… I’m on the board!

My jacket is gone, my shirt is open, my chest is exposed… th-they’re really going to do it!

“L-l-let me g-go!” My words come out slurred as I’m still relearning how to pilot my tongue. It’s not helped by the belt is pressing against my larynx. There’s one for my forehead, too, making me unable to turn my head properly. I feel so blind.

“Gods, Magnus, how hard did you shock him?” someone mutters in the crowd.

Magnus. The magneton. How many times will it destroy my chances of escape? I hate it! When I ascend, I’m going to seek out every one of its kind and --

Oh fuck. I’m not going to ascend. Because I’m here and I’m going to die. I’m going to die! But I can’t die. This is not how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to live forever, I was supposed to bring about the new world, but now, now I’ll die before I can, I’m going to be dead! I’ll never see the Judgment happen, I’ll never see HIM again, I’ll never see my home again, I’ll never see Him again, I-I’ll never hold Him --

“Brothers, sisters!” booms Samson, shattering my deafness to the outside world. His back is to me, his arms raised in the air, the robe’s sleeves resembling wings. “Today, we have seized the beast. Praise be to Arceus!”

“Praise be to Arceus!” echoes the crowd, raising their hands towards the ceiling.

The Arcean brings his hands to his heart. “But,” he begins with a sorrowful tone, “while this is a joyous occasion for us and the rest of the world, we mustn’t forget the many victims of this monster’s crimes, the innocent lives lost to the ravenous jaws of this horrid creature. May Arceus soothe their souls and guide them to paradise, may he bless and comfort their families. Truly.”

“Truly,” responds the crowd, bowing their heads.

“Let us have a minute of silence,” declares Samson and bows his head as well. In a snap, all noises cease, all motion freezes, except for my panicking breath and heart.

So they knew? They knew about me all along? They watched me, waiting for the right moment to strike, waiting for my first and last mistake. And today they noticed such a moment, and they sent in Samson undercover, is that right? All that bullshit about him wanting to help, that was a ruse to get close to me!

And it actually worked… and now they finally have me. And they’re going to kill me. They’re going to cut my heart right out of my chest, I bet! These people want to see me suffer. These people want to drink from the chalice of justice filled with my blood.

Justice… what a drug to the mareep. What a sweet high it gives them to perpetuate their mindless norms and standards, to celebrate the culling of the misfits! They speak of righteousness when they mean conformity!

These pathetic creatures! Crowning each other every day for being so unquestioning! Spitting on the eons nature spent handcrafting them to survive! And here they execute the one meant to thrive, the rightful heir of this world!

If I only had the power… their brains would paint the walls pink...

Itch. Left temple, again. No, now is an even worse time! A-and another, in the lower back? Gods!

My fingers twitch, my biceps tug at the wrists fastened down below... it’s so uncomfortable, but I can’t do shit about it! Couldn’t I at least die without my skin feeling like it’s had a swarm of tiny bugs injected into it?

The itch spreads. Oh fuck. It’s in my sides, my shoulders, my neck, everywhere. I’m trembling. It’s not getting better. A growl leaves my throat.

“A minute has passed.”

With Samson’s words, it’s like I’m awakened. The itch has released its grasp of me. Blood rushes to my skin freely, relaxing my muscles. Weird, but I’m not complaining.

“Now we may begin.” Samson faces me. Oh shit. Nevermind, I’m complaining.

His glare is full of contempt. “You, Beast! You have done much evil. You have torn innocent women from their lives. Tortured them and desecrated their bodies in unholy rituals for the demon you call your god.”

Demon? Demon?

“Better a demon than a fucking pony!” I snap, but he ignores me.

“Arceus has witnessed your despicable deeds. He has sent us, his loyal followers, to rid this earth of your wickedness.”

My stomach turns. That's how sickening his words are, this whole situation is. I snarl.

“Yet there is something that must be done before that,” Samson continues. “A life that can still be saved.”

My stomach turns again. Wait, no. It’s not nausea. I know this feeling, this distortion. This is...

“Sister Ronnie,” Samson calls. The woman soon walks into my sight. She holds something in her hands, something shiny… something metallic. Samson picks it up. It’s a long-bladed knife. They’re going to… oh fuck, they’re really going to…

The lump in my gut swells. It squeezes my lungs from underneath. It gets harder to breathe, every inhale stings. From the bottom of my vision, I can see my abdomen bloat, its skin stretch…

A whine arises from within. Something presses onto my insides, squishing my organs to abnormal shapes.

“Stop, stop!” I grit my teeth. How impotent must my digestive fluids be not to have melted this brat to mush by now?

“Do not fear, child,” Samson says, approaching. “You will finally be free.”

He raises the knife, its blade sparkling in the chandeliers’ crystal-reflected light. Oh fuck. This is going to hurt.

“Now lean back, child. I do not want you to get harmed.”

He jams the blade below my ribs. Hot blood spurts out, blinding pain floods my nerves. I scream. It’s deep! It rips even more of me apart, traveling down to my navel, past it, stop!

They pull the metal out. My screaming breaks up into agonized breathing. I feel too bare. Organs aren’t meant to be exposed like this. Too much blood is leaking out.

A small arm slips out of the wound, smeared with blood and stomach contents. Its fingers curl, reaching out for something to grab onto. The sour stench of vomit wrinkles my nose.

Samson offers his hand to the child, undeterred by the goop it's covered in, and she grasps it. He pulls on it, tearing the edges of my wound apart as the rest of her begins to leave my body.

“No… no, no, no…” I can only whimper.

Pink hair appears. I hear a weak gasp. A gasp for fresh air, a gasp of freedom.

But she shouldn’t be free. She doesn't deserve to be free. Curled up inside a cauldron of acid, locked behind bars of bone, that is the fate that belongs to her. She needs to suffer for all the trouble she’s brought me. She needs to be digested.

Another yank, and her brown coat is visible. Another, and her jeans show - another, and she tumbles down onto the floor. I’m so incredibly hollow now. The emptiness is screaming…

All the blood spilt has now dyed the front of Samson’s white robe a sticky crimson. He crouches down and helps mucky little Michi up. I can see her right hand is missing, the arm only ending in a nub. I’d call bullshit on her not having died from bleeding out, but considering everything she’s been through, it’s probably safe to assume she can’t die at all.

She turns around. Her pale blue eyes glare at me, furious but victorious. I respond with an equally furious stare.

Samson steps forward, no doubt to show off his shining armor once more - but is stopped by Michi raising her arm.

“This is it for you, Houndoom,” she says, letting the arm drop. “You're finally going to get what’s been coming to you for years.”

“Get back in,” I breathe, shaking from the pain of my gaping wound. Even with that agony, I want her back, need her back. It feels like she'd even fix it. “You belong in there. You are my prey.”

Michi looks back at Samson, who’s still holding the bloody knife. “I’m done with him. You can get back to your ceremony now.”

She heads for the door. Seeing her back turned to me, seeing her get away… I need to chase her, hunt her down. The instinct is awakened. I need to do what my nature tells me to do…

But no struggling, twitching, flailing is getting me off this board. I can’t get away. I’m forced to watch my prey walk out right in front of me, just meters away from the stomach it should be filling, the thirst it should be quenching. All while my body bleeds out, all while these mareep gawk at my pain, my humiliation, my death…

This can't be how it ends. This can’t all have been for nothing. I didn’t train myself, restrain myself for years to just… die. This can't be how it ends!

B-but what can I do? I can’t do anything! I’m just a weak little human with flimsy limbs and dull teeth. This body is so pathetic. How can it be so pathetic? I have the mind of a bloodthirsty beast, but the body… where is my rightful body?

The body… the body was there when I ate her.

That body is what made it possible. That body had the teeth and the claws that caught her and the throat that squeezed her down. And that body, where it came from - it was this skin, this disguise, and it must still be there.

I wheeze just a bit. A wheeze of laughter.

Michi stops. She looks over her shoulder. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s so silly how simple it all actually is...”

“Sure, okay.” She resumes her walking.

I focus on my right hand. Its soft flesh, tidy fingernails. Such an adorable little hand. But it’s false.

Ten rips and spurts of blood split my fingertips. Curved, needle-sharp talons reveal themselves.

The audience steps back, some members gasping. Samson’s eyes open wide. “The Beast...” he whispers, voice trembling.

Michi has frozen.

“You thought you could make me forget?” I continue. “You thought you could convince me I was just a lowly human?”

She's beginning to fear. I can see it, smell it. For six heartbeats, she stays as silent and still as the rest of the room - then she faces Samson.

“Kill him.”

Samson flinches, as if he’d just now remembered he had the knife. He steps closer. “This is the end, Beast,” he tensely says, raising the knife.

Something at the very bottom of my spine aches. Oh, there’s the thing I ordered! It’ll make for a nice, flashy way to showcase my power.

The vertebrae multiply, extending the spine rapidly and tearing right through my skin and jeans. The newborn tail rears its tip like a serpent about to strike. The arrow-shaped end glistens with my blood and its own sheer sharpness.

Samson takes a step back like the coward he is, but being a fool as well, stands his ground. Hiding behind the knife, he gathers up the courage for another strike and finally lunges for my heart.

But guess who’s faster.

The wonderful noise of flesh and organs being skewered rings out around the room. Samson’s silver eyes, bulging out of their sockets in shock and pain, flick back and forth between my face and the black appendage inserting into his abdomen.

I can’t help smirking. “Guess those prayers weren’t much help after all.”

I yank back the tail. The tip slices through even more tissue on its way out of the man’s body. He collapses onto his knees, dropping the knife and gasping for air. The crown of his head, covered with his golden hair, points right at me. I guess I should finish him off, make sure he doesn’t sneak up on me later with that knife.

“Hey, pony boy.”

He raises his head, eyes full of terror. With one swift swing of my tail, I slash across his throat. Red fluid gushes out, depriving his brain of the oxygen it needs. He opens his mouth to gasp once more, like a magikarp on dry land, then falls down on his face, silent. An ever-growing pool of blood forms underneath.

I bring the tip of my tail to my mouth and lick in a bit of the blood. The taste is energizing, appetizing, back to the way it should be. Deep in my throat, teeth begin to form.

“Father Samson!” screams the red-haired woman as she dashes to Samson’s limp body. It should be obvious he’s dead by now, but still the woman has to flip him over and take a good look at his cleaved neck and empty eyes before she gets the picture.

Finally, she snatches the knife and jolts up. Her green eyes drill into my own with rage. “You bastard!”

Blade raised, she charges at me. She hasn’t learned a thing from her leader’s mistake. I suppose I can use her to test my strength in a different way.

The straps on my right arm loudly snap as the limb yanks itself free. I shove the palm right onto the woman’s face and squeeze. As her skull crackles, she drops the knife and latches onto my hand with her own. Her tugs and scratches are like a little bug’s. Those and her whimpers… so adorable.

With one crushing contraction, her whole head caves in. It crumples like paper, if paper oozed blood and gray matter. Her skull feels like eggshell within my grasp. The yolk drips down to the floor.

I toss her corpse aside. It thumps down right next to Samson’s and no longer moves.

Through my bloodied talons, I glare at the audience. “Does anyone else want to try?”

Frantic steps and cries fill the room. They all race for the door. They think they can run. Cute.

Oh, the itch is back. In the left forearm, more specifically. I pull the arm free and raise it before me. Aside from the psychic protection seal carved onto the surface, nothing seems off about the skin. Whatever’s causing it must be from beneath. Well, let’s find out!

I stick a talon into the skin. It singes, but I no longer need to fear pain. I swipe the claw down regardless. Blood squeezes out, but there’s something else, something black… black fur. Sticking out like grass from a crack in the asphalt.

Oh, I get it… I get it! The body has developed further! It’s been growing within, incubated by my old skin. Now it has its own, and a coat of fur to top it off. Makes sense, houndoom have fur. I was personally more of a fan of the skinless version, but perhaps this one leaves less of a mess behind…

More itching. It’s everywhere now. Every inch has hair beneath the skin, wanting to get out. Well, I have no reason to keep them in!

I hook my claws on the edges of my abdominal wound. Fuck, this is going to hurt, but it’s all for the sake of evolution.

I pull the edges apart. The skin tears, splits further, exposing more of the bloody black fur. Every fiber broken, I can feel it scream at me, scream at me to stop, and I scream with it, but all of it comes from a lesser being. To the beast, pain means nothing! The new mouth in my throat already snarls, gnashes its teeth, waiting to get out!

The crowd still panics and stampedes in place. It seems they’re all trying to get through the door at the same time, jamming it… of course they are! They’re herd animals! And there are the arcanine and magneton herding them, circling them, keeping them together. Good, good! Keep them gathered up like that! That way I can kill more efficiently! But to take care of personal business first...

“Michi!” I call, voice inhuman, monstrous. Where is she? There, at the edge of the crowd! She glances at me from the sea of robes, eyes sparkling with tears, desperately pushing onto the people blocking her way out. So small, such a runt, such a sweet little snack!

“Look at it!” I roar, spreading my arms wide. “Look at my true body! Remember it well, as after I get you… you’ll only see the inside!”

Oh? The itch has spread to the last place it hasn’t spread yet - my throat. The snout inside is furred now, completed. It’s time for me to pry myself off this board and abandon my human skin once and for all. The hour of the Beast has come.

I grab the sides of the board and push my body forward. The remaining belts, on my forehead, neck and legs, squeak as they’re stretched nearer and nearer to breaking. My remaining human skin is drying up, hardening, crackling. My heart beats faster, louder, stronger! My lungs draw deeper breaths than they're ever drawn before! I’m ready! I’m so ready! I’m doing it, doing it, now!

Rip!

…

...Wh-what?

No heartbeat.

No breathing, either.

My head hasn't moved. The belt is still on my forehead, my viewpoint is the same. The people are still panicking, shoving each other to the direction of the door…

But my arms aren't there. My legs aren't there. Nothing below my neck is there. Where has it all gone?

Black hairs pop into the bottom of my vision. There's something fuzzy there. It rises, grows.

It's a back. Two arms. A neck. A head. All at least twice the size of mine.

It growls, making the earth tremble from the sheer power of the noise. Two growths extend from its skull, reaching for the roof. They curve, sharpen. Horns.

Fast as a thunderbolt, the beast leaps forward, landing right next to the crowd. Before the people can even react, the creature has shoved its horns through a few’s backs, impaling them.

Screaming. Swipes of talons, sinking of teeth, stabbings via tail. The white robes turn red, and the people fall like crops to a scythe.

It's playing out exactly as it should - but without me.

I’ve been left behind.

Oh shit. That means… that means it has my organs. My heart, my lungs. I don’t have anything. I’m only a head. I’m going to die. I’m going to die and nothing can stop it!

How long do I have? How many seconds before consciousness leaves?

The room brightens with orange as the arcanine fires a blast at the beast, but the creature merely dashes through the flames and grabs the mon by its snout. The arcanine whimpers once before it’s flung to a wall, muzzle dyed red.

An ear-splitting, metallic screech follows. The magneton is caught in the beast’s jaws, the mon’s steel shell currently bent as the pressure of the bite is too much. Sparks fly out. Soon after, the beast drops the flattened metal mon to the floor with a clunk.

There seem to be no more humans in the room to kill. None except one.

On the opposite wall, a small figure cowers, shivering. She must have snuck there during the commotion. Now she’s creeping along to wall to a better hiding spot, desperately hoping she won’t be noticed.

A dull ache forms in my brain. Oh fuck. There it is. Death. It’s approaching like a stalking predator and I have nowhere to run.

The beast raises its snout towards the ceiling. A long, loud, wailing howl arises from between its sharp teeth. But it’s cut short - the arcanine has gotten back up and tackled the beast to the floor. The black-furred creature snarls and drives its talons into the arcanine’s neck. The mon jolts in pain, showing the whites of its eyes, then limply collapses. The beast stands up, victorious.

It twists its neck around to face me - like a noctowl, but even faster. Its yellow eyes, bright as a bonfire in the night, burn onto my brain as it stares at me. I know what it’s trying to say. That I’m next.

Michi takes another step. It's still relatively silent, but not silent enough for the beast. Its fiery glare locks onto the girl, who freezes in response. Thank fuck, it's distracted…

But it makes no difference, does it? I’m gonna pass out soon, anyway. I’m lightheaded, the headache’s worsening… it’s all gonna go black any moment now, I’m sure.

The creature lunges for the tiny human, quickly seizing it with its claws. The girl trembles all around as the monster slowly opens its maw.

The beast jerks its head forward and chomps down on Michi’s neck. It pulls back, ripping the girl's head off with little effort. Blood shoots out of the stump of a neck and rains down all around. It's like a great, big fountain.

The beast straightens its neck and gulps Michi’s head down whole. The creature may not have an expressive face, but just by looking at it I can tell it’s enjoying the hell out of its meal. But it's not done with her yet. It looks back down at the body, and something slithers out of its mouth. A black, slimy tendril. Joined soon by two others.

Together, the tendrils dive into the severed throat of the girl. They slide deeper and deeper, squishing as they move. The beast has frozen in wait. What is it doing…?

The tendrils stop. They begin reeling back into the beast’s body. I can hear a voice. Muffled. Female. Distressed.

The corpse’s neck widens rapidly. Something's emerging.

A shadowy figure pops out, its maroon eyes wide with terror at the tendrils wrapped around it. The neck stretches even more until a glimpse of gold arises, then the whole thing is yanked out - the whole thing being Joanna and her mask.

“Stop! Stop!” she screams as the tendrils pull her into the beast’s maw. “He killed me! He killed me!”

The beast ignores her. It draws her to its throat, snaps its jaws shut and swallows.

It turns to me.

My eyes get sore. Black circles my vision. Oh fuck... my time is up. Well, place your bets: which will be my ultimate cause of death, suffocation or mauling?

The beast approaches. Its steps are heavy thumps. It reopens its mouth.

The black framing my vision advances, narrowing my sight to only show the monster ever nearing. Its hundreds of teeth, its blinding eyes. They're all I see anymore.

No… I-I don't want this to be the last thing I see. I want to see something… good.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t keep track of the blackness anymore, but what would be the point? Whether slow or fast, it'll still come.

I go back. Back several days, weeks, months, years. I go back to that moment when the men in lab coats first handed it to me, that beautiful thing. The omanyte. Him. I’m gonna call Him a Him. I’ll never meet a god who could punish me for it again, so why bother sticking to one’s orders.

I think about His shell, its grainy surface. His tentacles, their touch cold and so weak. His big eyes, His gaze, equal parts fear and curiosity. The feeling in my chest, my throat. Completely foreign to me then.

I’m so sorry, my lord. I gave You away in exchange for immortality… which I then never even got. At least with You, I may have been able to enjoy what little life I had.

I can feel the beast’s breath. Hot and humid. The monster growls, and I think I can even hear its saliva dripping. Death is only moments away, it seems… so let me tell You something. Something I’ve been meaning to say ever since I met You. Three words so simple, yet so hard to even think.

My lord.

I...

---

 

[Ghostsoul]

The arcanine sitting across me, staring at me with its dark but vigilant eyes, provides no answer. The space for a reply is merely filled by the rumble and hum of the police van.

I sigh, shift my weight back and lean on the wall, the black leather seat squeaking underneath me. Not a terribly comfortable seat, not helped by my cuffed hands forcing my lower back to twist unnaturally forward.

The description is good here, not too much but not too little either. It holds tension, which is fitting for the horror genre.

I don't know how long this ride is going take as I don't exactly know where I’m being taken, but I do know that it's someplace I really don't want to be

The vocabulary you use gives an insight into Red's childishness. Nice!

“Was he nice?” it asks. It’s a she, and a she with a voice I recognize. She was at the beach. She’s the red-haired policewoman. I glance the arcanine, which now has stood up. I guess it’s the same one from then. Explains its attitude.

Is this girl the 'ghost' or is she a separate part of Red's psyche? Or symbolic of something within Red?

She’s smiling. Why is she smiling? I’m not a kid, I’m not a victim,

Perhaps you are a victim this time Red?

Elegant arches. Crystal chandeliers hanging from the high roof, carpet of red velvet on the floor. Paintings of beautiful men, women and mon on the walls. Golden decorations, like vines, running up and down all surfaces.

Again with the description, it's simplitstic, yet it what makes it tense and impactful. The writing style and pace wouldn't fit grand descriptions and you noticed that.

With the other hand, he fidgets with the spiny golden wheel of his necklace.

Golden.

I'm guessing you repeated this for emphasis? It's well executed.

It stops. My limbs still jitter. I can’t see right. Everything’s a mess. Is something touching me? Am I being dragged? I try to struggle, but I’ve forgotten how to move… some seconds pass, I think, I don’t think I can trust my sense of time right now. I hear speech, muddled, my chest is cold, I can see something, I can feel again… I’m… I’m… I’m on the board!

The giant brings his hands to his heart. “But,” he begins with a sorrowful tone, “while this is a joyous occasion for us and the rest of the world, we mustn’t forget the many victims of this monster’s crimes, the innocent lives lost to the ravenous jaws of this horrid creature. May Arceus soothe their souls and guide them to paradise, may he bless and comfort their families. Truly.”

The lump in my gut swells. My lungs are squished upwards as the mass expands. It's harder to breathe, every inhale stings. From the bottom of my vision, I can see my stomach bloat, bulge out…

A whine arises from within. Little hands press onto my insides, stretching my organs to abnormal shapes.

“Stop it, stop!” I growl between my teeth. How impotent must my digestive fluids be to not have melted this bitch to mush by now?

^ All the above description is very intense, horrific and well detailed. It's interesting to see (well, from the chapters I've read so far) a nice change since Red is normally doing the gore-ridden murdering. I guess it's fitting for the end of the story (or near it though).

But that's how this society works. Conform or die. That’s how it goes…

Is this a theme running through the story? It's slightly heavy handed, but it does gives us insight into Red's temprement and world-view.

“I just want to let you know what's to come,” I say softly. “First of all, I’m going to kill everyone in this room. All of these white-robed weaklings and their mon pals. Their brains will be splattered on these white walls, dyeing them pink.”

“Sure, okay.” She resumes her walking.

Her reply was a little amusingly nonchalont.
I guess Red isn't the weaker one in this chapter after all?

“Again and again,” I say. “I’ll bite into your skin, chew on your flesh, crush your bones, shove you down my throat, swallow you, wait for you to squeeze out through my wound and repeat. You'll see nothing, touch nothing, smell nothing other than my digestive tract until I’ve had enough. And unfortunately for you, my hunger will never be sated.”

Although a lot of the gorey detail is very good, I think having an awful lot of it lessens it's impact. I know this is suppose to be a big dramatic chapter, but I would still personally be more sparce with it.

I tense the muscles of my right arm and pull it away from the board. The belts’ leather breaks with loud snaps. With the now free hand, I grab onto the woman’s face and squeeze. I feel cracking underneath her scalp. Then her whole head caves in, crumpling like paper, if paper had long hair and oozed blood and gray matter. The knife knocks the floor again, having fallen out of her hand. I toss the woman’s corpse aside. It thumps down right next to her priest’s and no longer moves.

So Red is now the one with more power again? hm?

The itch spreads to the last place it hasn’t spread yet. My throat. The snout inside is furred now, completed. It’s time for me to pry myself off this board and abandon my human skin once and for all. The hour of the Houndoom has come.

Is he becoming a werehoundoom now? Is this a literal thing due to being some kind of demon on the inside? or something going on in his head, some kind of break down?

Oh shit. That means… that means it has my organs. My heart, my lungs. I don’t have anything. I’m only a head. I’m going to die. I’m going to die and nothing can stop it!

So he did become a werehoundoom or didn't he? A lot of the last portion of this chapter feels very confusing...

The beast approaches. Its steps are heavy thumps. It reopens its mouth.

So is the werehoundoom elsewhere? real or not real? him or not? and is he dying, has he gone to hell already? I feel as if it's supposed to be ambiguous but it's sort of hard to tell anything of what is really going on. It's especially jarring since most of the rest of the story and the start of this chapter is rather clear. I'm guessing this pokemon world werewolf concept was introuduced earlier as well? Perhaps I'm more confused because I haven't read enough.

Okay, this chapter is exciting, and throughout the detail and description is good, but it feels everywhere? It's lots of things happening all at once and it sort of feels as if it lacks direction? Perhaps if you spent more time on details other than the gore or violence in each section then it'll be easier to understand and follow, and therefore more grabbing to the reader. I'm not sure if it's simply because I haven't read the other chapters that some of the aspects here came out of nowhere. But there is still not much explanation or even hints as to where or who Red actually is. I feel like you have a lot of potential and interesting ideas here, but you do need to slow down a bit, and wait to move onto more interesting/fun to write aspects of the text and spend time on the perhaps duller to write but more, I guess expostional parts of the text?

 

[canisaries]

Thanks for the review!

The vocabulary you use gives an insight into Red's childishness. Nice!

Well, it was more like using simple, non-elaborate expressions to get a sense of primal fight-or-flight going. But it's not like I can say he isn't childish.

Is this girl the 'ghost' or is she a separate part of Red's psyche? Or symbolic of something within Red?

Oh, that woman is a female cop he met some chapters ago. The 'ghost' here is in Red's head, and appears near the end of the fic: it's that shadowy thing with the mask the beast eats with its tendrils. It's been established strongly in the previous chapters.

Is this a theme running through the story? It's slightly heavy handed, but it does gives us insight into Red's temprement and world-view.

Red does pretend to be the victim a lot, so you're correct there.

Her reply was a little amusingly nonchalont.
I guess Red isn't the weaker one in this chapter after all?

Not totally sure what you mean with that? In any case, Michi's nonchalant because she thinks Red's just making empty threats.

Is he becoming a werehoundoom now? Is this a literal thing due to being some kind of demon on the inside? or something going on in his head, some kind of break down?

So is the werehoundoom elsewhere? real or not real? him or not? and is he dying, has he gone to hell already? I feel as if it's supposed to be ambiguous but it's sort of hard to tell anything of what is really going on. It's especially jarring since most of the rest of the story and the start of this chapter is rather clear. I'm guessing this pokemon world werewolf concept was introuduced earlier as well? Perhaps I'm more confused because I haven't read enough.

Absolutely the reason: pretty much everything that confused you here is clear to someone who's read the other chapters.

Anyway, a quick explanation: in a few previous scenes, Red's established to "have" this "true body" inside of him, kind of wearing his skin as a disguise. This body is the beast mentioned here, and it's the body Red used to "eat" Michi, which is why he's so sure he can summon it again. He does manage to use it for some time (tail, claws, etc), but as he's prying himself off the board, the beast actually rips itself out and leaves him behind as the skin.

I used a ton of quotation marks there since what's actually real and what isn't has become less and less clear to Red as this fic has progressed. It's kind of why this fic's last few chapters can't really be read on their own.

Okay, this chapter is exciting, and throughout the detail and description is good, but it feels everywhere? It's lots of things happening all at once and it sort of feels as if it lacks direction? Perhaps if you spent more time on details other than the gore or violence in each section then it'll be easier to understand and follow, and therefore more grabbing to the reader. I'm not sure if it's simply because I haven't read the other chapters that some of the aspects here came out of nowhere. But there is still not much explanation or even hints as to where or who Red actually is. I feel like you have a lot of potential and interesting ideas here, but you do need to slow down a bit, and wait to move onto more interesting/fun to write aspects of the text and spend time on the perhaps duller to write but more, I guess expostional parts of the text?

I'm not completely sure why you'd expect a chapter this far in the story to make complete sense out of context? If I re-explained everything every chapter, wouldn't that get extremely repetitive and annoying for regular readers? It'd also nerf the mystery if I told the reader what's actually happening.