TEEN: Seiren

[canisaries]

EDIT: Seiren has been finished! Only took almost two years and a soft reboot. Can't believe it ended up close to the length of Hunter, Haunted, but oh well. Hope y'all enjoyed it. - Canis

Finally I start the project I've been talking about for a while now - a complete rewrite of Agápe, the story which I'd say I consider my first "serious" one.

The goal of this rewrite is to change the canon of my stories to make more sense (as in: decanonizing my essentially meme-tier comics) and to realize the ideas of the original story better. This rewrite is also in the present tense and first person like Hunter, Haunted and my oneshots and unlike Agápe. Also, it hopefully won't suck as bad.

For the people who don't know my stories, which is very likely the majority: Hi, I'm Canis, and I write Twitch Plays Pokémon fanfiction. Now before you click away and never ever return, I very much try to make my stories readable to non-TPP audiences, and I'm just as interested (if not more) in having people unfamiliar with the lore read and give their thoughts on my stories. To be fair, it's not like my universe is that attached to the common interpretations of the TPP fandom to begin with.

With that out of the way, here's the current timeline of my (most important) stories:
Seiren (multiparter)
Prayer (oneparter, link removed until coming rewrite)
Night One (oneparter, link removed until coming rewrite)
Metanoia (oneparter, link removed until coming rewrite)
Hunter, Haunted (multiparter)

And with that out of the way, a word on the content: The current rating of this fic is teen for strong language, violence and immoral actions. For context, the protagonist is kind of a serial killer, so... there. EDIT: Due to two different people mentioning it, I'm adding misogyny to the list.

And with THAT out of the way, we can finally get started. This is Seiren. Any comments or reviews are greatly appreciated, I'm eager to improve. Enjoy.

---

S E I R E N

Synopsis:
Red isn't too happy about Helix's new celebrity crush. Therefore, action must be taken.

Genre:
Drama, Dark Comedy

Started:
9 June 2018

Status:
Finished
(8 April 2020)

Length:
64 000 words
(measured 8 April 2020)

---

I N D E X

PROLOGUE
(you're here)

CHAPTER 1
The New Him

CHAPTER 2
Sweet Schemes

CHAPTER 3
Tipsy-Turvy

CHAPTER 4
Video Kills The Radio Star

CHAPTER 5
Lust for Blood and Prawns

CHAPTER 6
I Celadon't Want to Be Here

CHAPTER 7
Digital Dummy

CHAPTER 8
Pallet Patrol

CHAPTER 9
And Then Everybody Clapped

CHAPTER 10
Bottom Text

CHAPTER 11
Destruction of Public Property

CHAPTER 12
Calamari on The Rocks

EPILOGUE

---

PROLOGUE

---
​

Ding!

The bell’s ring pierces my skull.

He needs something.

I drop the book and roll over to see the water tank. He stares back with His gray-yellow eyes, His tentacle still lying on the button, too tired to pull back again. My heartbeat surges. Is this it? Is it happening now?

I bounce out of bed as quickly as any persian on its prey and hurry to the tank. Even the focus and motions of His eyes are delayed...

“My lord, what do You need?” I ask. It could be just another false alarm, but an ominous cold resides in my core. It only grows stronger with each passing second and each new observation on how terrible He looks right now.

A tip of one tentacle sluggishly rises, prompting me to dive my arms into the lukewarm water and lift up the sickly omastar. The splashes of water paint dark spots onto my shirt and the towels covering the floor. He breaks the surface, flattening as the upthrust of the fluid disappears. It happens every time, but… He just looks so miserable nowadays.

“Red...” He rasps. I lean in, determined not to miss a single one of His words.

“Yes?”

“You know I’m coming back, right?”

I unwind for just a second, chuckling. “Y-yes, I know. I just...”

No, He’s right. I shouldn’t be this worried. He’s come back once, He’ll come back again. I know exactly how to get Him back and I’m absolutely positive it’ll work. And this time they’ll have a vaccine ready for Him. They learned enough about this disease during His suffering through it, and now they know how to prevent it. He won’t get this way again. His lifespan won’t be cut short. Still...

“And I’ll be healthy,” he continues, slit-pupiled eyes slowly blinking. “And an omanyte, too. A lot easier to carry around… I think I’ll want to stay that way longer this time around...”

I sit back on the bed and lower Him onto my lap to give my arms a break. My jeans quickly soak up the water on His skin.

What He’s saying is all true, but I… I don't know. He's going to have to mature all over again, learn to speak, go to school… and I don't know which ones of His memories won't stick around this time. What if He forgets me entirely? What if He won't like me? What if --

His tentacle rubs on my wet forearm, interrupting my worries. “I know I won't remember everything from this life, but I’m still going to be the same mon. And you’ll be the same person. I know I’ll like you again.”

I sigh. “Thank You, my lord.” I’m not content, but to ease His mind, I’ll pretend.

“Now…” He says, shifting on my lap, “now I would finally like to sleep.”

I nod and lean forwards to get up, but He stops me with a groan.

“Here,” He specifies.

“Wouldn’t it be more comfortable in the water?”

“I’ve had My whole life to be comfortable. I can tell you need Me now.”

That’s the last push the tears in my ducts needed. They’re freed, as is my smile.

“Goodnight, Red,” He wheezes and lets His rubbery body relax. His warty lids close, hiding the pale yellow.

“Goodnight,” I whisper back.

A silence arises, but only for a second before the winds outside snuff it out. I look through the window at the golden autumn view and watch the swaying trees and grass, brown and yellow. The neighboring houses remain still, their hue only slightly altered by the evening sun.

The mass on my lap slows in its breathing. My pulse speeds up again.

A part of me, the naive part, urges me to initiate some kind of mollusk-adjusted CPR, but I suppress the need. It's time for Him to go and there'd be no benefit to prolonging His pain. Instead, as painful as it is, it's my job to be here and make sure He leaves in peace.

The breaths grow weaker. The time between them stretches out - longer, longer, longer… until the next one finally fails to arrive.

A jagged grip seizes my heart. I shakingly gasp for air. Another wave of hot tears emerges.

It shouldn’t hurt like this. It shouldn’t hurt because He’s coming back, and it shouldn’t hurt for someone like me.

It’s just one of those things I’ll never understand.

---​

The trees of Viridian Forest dash by as the train hums on. It's a shame this window is so smudgy - the autumn colors seem brilliant. Even the evergreens look majestic among their more vibrant deciduous peers.

But I don't need to look out the window for a sight that warms my heart, do I? That's right. I have You.

Two sparkling eyes stare back from the dark of my bag, their image wavering as the rumbling of the train and the bubbling powerhead quake the water’s surface.

My beautiful lord, so healthy, and this time He’ll stay that way. He’s already got the life-saving shot.

“You hungry?” I whisper. He continues staring, not yet understanding my language.

I zip open another pouch of the bag and pull out a green plastic container. I pop it open to reveal the numerous leppa berries inside. He shuffles in place as I open His aquarium, unsure of what’s happening.

“It's alright,” I say calmly. It seems to make His worries subside somewhat. The rest of His shyness melts away as I drop one of the red-yellow berries into the water and He realizes it's edible. His translucent tentacles cover the fruit, and He begins nibbling away.

The train slows down to a halt. The final jolt wakes up the black-jacketed nidoking snoozing on the seat across from mine.

“Home yet?” Fonz mumbles, blinking his squinted eyes.

“Just a stop.”

“Mhhh…” he sighs and lets his lids close again.

I look back down at the aquarium. The omanyte has lain down on the side of His shell and is retreating inside. Looks like Fonz isn't the only sleepy one here.

Quietly, I snap shut the lid of the aquarium and return the leppas to their pouch in the bag. May He have the privacy He deserves.

It's funny. Currently, He must see me as the god in this relationship. Well, technically, the real god is in that other bag, but… I don’t want to think about that right now.

The only thing that matters now is that He and I are finally together again. Things are exactly as they should be, and I won’t let anything, anything change that.

---​

 

[canisaries]

oi we are back with a new chapter, the first actual chapter in fact. pretty sure rating for this one is teen as well, just some language in this.

note for older readers: i've changed the name of abba (aka bird jesus) to jess cause it's less ridiculous

anyway, the chapters for this story are currently gonna be unnamed cause i can't think of anything witty but i might add names later like i did with hunter haunted. alright here we go. enjoy

---

CHAPTER 1
The New Him

---​

I’ve walked to the school and timed it. I’ve walked back and timed it. I’ve repeated both three times to calculate the average and know just when to expect Them back. So where the hell are They?

I crane my neck at the kitchen window, trying to find an angle where I could see even further down the snow-lined road. But it’s not like it even matters - this street is emptier than a slowpoke’s skull.

I understand that people walk at different paces. I understand that lessons don’t always end exactly when scheduled. I understand people might get caught up talking to one another, but I can’t understand being an entire half an hour late.

I glance at the table. The berry basket’s contents are still as vibrant as ever, but the fruits just look miserable, having to wait like that.

Wait, I hear something! Steps! Could that be Them? The steps are heavy and seem like they come from a lone biped… that matches Fonz. It must be Them. I need to go! I need to see Him!

I dash to the door, not daring to waste any time putting on a coat. I twist the lock and throw open the door, grinning at the thought of finally seeing my lord again.

The grin decays away as my stare only meets a bewildered golem.

“You want somethin’?” asks the mon in a gruff voice.

Yes, for you not to give me false hope… I groan quietly and close the door.

“Humans,” I hear the golem mutter.

Sighing, I make my way back to the kitchen. The golem notices me through the window and gives one last annoyed look before walking out of frame.

Alright. It’s possible I’m overreacting. People are late sometimes. It happens. It’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything happened to Him. Oh shit, what if something happened to Him? Did the weather get to Him despite all the scarves? Did Fonz get run over while holding Him? Did He get beat up by some bully so badly He had to be taken to the hospital? If so, I’m going to flay whoever --

My train of thought stops as my fingers touch the hilt of my knife. Shit. This is exactly why it’s Fonz taking Him to school and back and not me.

Wait. Steps, I hear steps again. I peek out of the window. A purple mon is approaching. It has a warm wool-lined coat on and a ball of scarves held up by its claws. That's Fonz!

I scramble to the door again and nearly fling it open, but stop. I’ll only let the cold air in, making it less comfortable for Him to be here. I still have to wait. But it's just a few seconds. A few seconds and I’ll see Him again.

My arms cross themselves and my foot starts to tap the carpet. Just a little more, relax, but don't get too comfortable, you don't want Him to think you like it when He’s away, as if you found Him a burden or… the door, the door is opening! Smile! Smile, for fuck’s sake!

Fonz looks up from the door handle and flinches. “O-oh, hi,” he stutters. I guess he was caught by surprise.

I nod and step back, allowing him to enter the hall and bring the scarf pile to view. There's no hole in it to see inside. Can He breathe? Of course He can, idiot, it's just loosely wrapped wool. But is He actually in there? Maybe Fonz actually lost Him and is trying to trick me? No, he wouldn’t do that. Or would he? Everyone has their price.

“Why are you, uhh… looking at me like that?” asks Fonz. I realize the frown on my face and quickly revert it back to a smile.

“Sorry, had something on my mind,” I brush it off and take half a second to think of a way to patch that mistake. “How's my lord?” Assuming He is with you… no, stop that.

The nidoking grins in a strange way. Can't name what it is, but it’s certainly not sincere. That's worrying…

“Oh, He's great,” he says. “Had a good first day. Isn't that, uhh, right?” He nudges the bottom of the pile with a claw.

“Hm?” comes from the pile. A sliver opens between two scarves, revealing an eye glistening in the light of a smartphone. “Oh, here already. Hi, Red,” the omanyte within mumbles, and lets the sliver fall to a close again.

Well, He’s there, but... that’s odd of Him. This morning, He seemed anxious when leaving for His first day of school, even hugging me… now I’m like nothing to Him. Did something happen? I give Fonz a questioning look.

“Yeah, He discovered, uhh, something interesting,” he says and shuffles out of the hall. “You got food ready?”

“Yes, here.” I gesture to the kitchen and give more space. Fonz carries Him to the table, next to the berries, and removes the scarves.

The omanyte cringes at the flood of sudden light, but still keeps His focus on the phone’s screen. A thin, forked cord runs from the device to the inside of His shell. Earphones. A quick glance around His body shows all tentacles intact and no cracks in the shell. Nothing physical is off.

Fonz taps His shell with his claw. When He looks up, somewhat annoyed, the nidoking smiles and pushes the berry basket closer.

“Oh, thanks,” He replies, nabs an oran and begins nibbling it, eyes still locked to the screen.

“What’s He watching?” I ask Fonz, slowly circling behind Him. I finally see what’s on the screen, but it only raises more questions.

Bright pink, violet and a bunch of other colors flash in striped patterns as a big-eyed creature resembling a squid moves around in the foreground. Its mantle is pink, lined with a translucent coating with glowing markings that resemble a shining star. Its lower half quite strongly resembles an omanyte’s, only with a pink beak above the tentacles instead of a beige one hidden beneath. In addition to the eight normal tentacles, two longer, glassy ones extend from underneath the mantle. They sway along with the mon’s dancing, their posterior edges somewhat serrated.

“Think it’s a pop star of some kind,” Fonz says as he returns the scarves and his own coat to the hall. “Forgot her name, but apparently she’s all the rage now. With the girls of the class, anyway...”

She…? “What kind of mon is that?” I ask, trying to think through all the nature documentaries I’ve seen. “Is that even real?”

“Pretty sure it is. She’s Unovan, but I’m not sure if the species is. Looks like a psychic type… or maybe that’s just the visuals.”

And water type would make sense for a squid… but not all mon have the powers you'd expect.

The omanyte finishes His oran and swipes another. One of His arms briefly taps the table, I guess along to the beat. I lean in to look at His face. His gaze is unchanging, like a mannequin’s. It’s like He's… hypnotized.

The doorbell rings, snapping me back to reality - but unfortunately, not Him. Fonz goes to answer the door. Is it Abe there? I thought he said he’d be home later today. But who else could it…

Right as Fonz opens the lock, I remember.

“Foooonz! How are you, my mon?” shouts a familiar pidgeot, excited to see his old teammate again.

Right, Jess was supposed to come today. I totally forgot. If only things that disappear in your memory would disappear in real life, too.

“Good to see you, Jess!” responds Fonz, though his tone is a bit forced. “Been well?”

“As well as ever! Makin’ sweet money and… actually, sorry, but could you let me in now? It's cold as jynx tits out here.”

“Right, sure.” Fonz lets Jess in, and the bird hops deeper into the house. He shakes a few excess snowflakes off himself, then pulls out a smartphone from the pouch attached to his leg. Using its dark screen as a mirror, he checks his red-and-gold crest and swipes the remaining white particles off with a feather. He grimaces as his gloved foot returns the phone to the pouch.

I check on my lord. Still entranced.

“Red! Yo! Miss your ace?” Jess shouts, forcing me to meet his golden eyes. They flick up and down. “I see you’re still working out! You look good, dude.”

Heh, of course I do. But I can’t even smirk genuinely when He’s like this.

Jess flits to the table, paying minimal attention to things he might knock over with his well-groomed tail feathers. He offers the wrist of his wing to me for something I don’t figure out before he gives up - a fist bump.

“Nice to see you too, Jess,” I respond, smiling, because I probably should.

The bird nods and turns to the berry basket. “Whoa, you got this for me and everything?” he gushes, spreading his wings. “Aww, you didn’t need to do that… but thanks, bros!” He swipes a pecha, but stops to look at the omanyte next to him. “That’s Helix? What happened to Him?”

“Reincarnation,” I answer flatly. You know He does that.

“Really? When?”

“Three months ago. He… He got sick.” I clench my teeth and hope Jess asks no further questions. I don’t want to be reminded, even if He is back now.

“Huh… so, what’s He watching?” Jess leaps to His side of the table and twists his neck to see. His eyes open wide. “Is that...” He covers his beak with a wing, snorting. “Like, unironically?”

“Uhhh...” I look at Fonz. He only shrugs.

Jess clears his throat. “Eh, forget it. Listen, sorry to cut this short, but I gotta take care of a bunch of things on that crappy old computer of ours.” He hops off and glides to the staircase but freezes at the base, his face losing its usual confidence. “It is still there, right?”

“Yeah, we haven’t touched it,” assures Fonz. Jess, content again, thanks us and takes flight, his small room upstairs as his destination.

The kitchen falls quiet after the bird’s departure. Only some muffled, rhythmic noise leaks from my lord’s earphones. I don’t think He even noticed Jess coming and going.

That’s it. I need to figure out what’s so special about what He’s watching.

“Excuse me,” I say to Fonz and head to the stairs. “Make sure He eats enough.”

He nods, and I climb the stairs. I walk to Jess’ door and enter without caring to knock.

His room is barely a room, it's more like a closet. It really only contains a little desk with a computer and a saddle-like chair meant for avian users of keyboards and mice. There’s a fake plastic tree with a branch Jess could sleep on, but usually he just crashes on the chair whenever he’s around.

Jess, sitting in his chair, swivels to me. “You need somethin’?”

I shut the door and come to him. “You seem to know what my lord was watching.”

“You don't? Right… I guess even normies have their normies.”

“What?”

Jess raises a wing. “Not important. So, that girl - that was Shirlee. She's, like, a rising pop star right now. Big with tweens and feminists, as they usually are. And total shit, as they usually are.”

Uh-huh. “What kind of mon is she?”

Jess smirks. “I’ve always liked how you don't care about political correctness.”

What was politically incorrect about… nevermind. “Just tell me what she is.”

Jess swivels back, clicks his mouse and taps the keyboard with his talons. When done, he turns the monitor to me. The screen shows an array of pictures featuring the kind of mon I saw in the video. Some of the mon look wild, expressionlessly floating in an underwater abyss. Others are levitating among people in the streets, sometimes wearing a piece of clothing.

Each one appears a little different. Their mantles range from orange to lavender. Some lower bodies are cerulean, some turquoise, some a silvery gray. The shape of their fins, tentacles and light spots vary, along with the number of the last one.

“She’s an inkay,” Jess explains. “A dark-psychic type from Kalos. They use those blinky things to communicate and defend themselves in the wild, and I guess in civilization they use them to look cute.”

Dark…? “They don’t look dark.”

Jess shrugs. “Nevertheless, everyone’s heralding Shirlee’s fame as a giant victory for inclusivity, given she’s a non-humanoid coldblood female mixed-type mon celeb. Personally, I don’t see anything special about her, as her music - if you can call it that - is just as poor as any other pop icon’s. Plus, I’m a non-humanoid mixed-type mon celeb too, and you don’t see anyone call me their queen. Not that I’d… want that.”

Jess is not a celebrity - even I can tell that much - but pointing that out isn’t going to help.

“Why do you think my lord is so... entranced by her?”

“Beats me. He's not really in the demographic. Maybe He’s got a crush on her or something. They are both tentacled sea creatures.”

My gut twists at the thought. “Crush? That's… no, that can't be right. He's never…”

“Well, He’s a new incarnation, isn't He?”

“That's not how it works. He can't have a crush. He's not the type.”

“Has He seen an inkay before?”

I give Jess a stern look. He shrinks somewhat.

“He doesn't have a crush,” I assert. “It’s gotta be something else about this… Shirlee, whatever her name was. What more do you know?”

“Uhhh… not much off the top of my head, but we got the computer right here.”

“Good. See if you can find anything.”

“Well, that, or…” Jess shyly slides the keyboard towards me. “You could do it...”

Oh. Well, I guess I should try to…

I take a step forward, but my legs lock in place. The screen is… and the keyboard is… right there, right where they were those times… the colors of the interface, blue and white… typing in the letters, searching, while they s-scream, and t-tell me to stop and go on and it takes so long and they don't shut up and it hurts --

“I-I can't.” I draw back and clutch my forehead, covering the sight of the… no, no more. I’m not doing it.

I sigh and finally dare to look back at Jess. He looks half ashamed, half disappointed.

“It's… fine, I’ll just do it,” he says quietly, pulls back the monitor and keyboard and types away.

Knowing now that I don’t have to interact with the thing, my courage to approach the computer comes back.

“Hmm, well…” says Jess, scrolling with the mouse wheel. “Looks like she’s touring Kanto this month. Wanna get Helix a ticket? He’d be sure to love it.”

My glower lets him know that’s not a subject to joke about.

“Well, anyway,” Jess continues, “I can’t find anything especially odd about her. Your best bet is probably to just ask Helix. I mean, He should know best.”

“Hrmh.” I cross my arms, peek at the screen and by the results, determine that Jess must be right. I sigh and leave the room, closing the door behind me.

I guess I have to catch Him between two videos, as I’d hate to interrupt Him. If He feels strongly enough about her, shoving myself in between might damage His bond with me, and I still very much need Him right now…

I make my way downstairs, glance around for my lord and spot Him on the couch. Still holding that accursed phone, of course. The girl - Shirlee was her name, what a stupid name - is there again, but on a different background. Beige. She has a costume on. She's blinking her lights… are the lights what are affecting Him? I don't feel any different looking at them, but I’m not an omanyte...

Figures. The moment I start to return to routine with Him and feel secure again, some hussy has to come along and tear Him away from me. If only I could just get my hands on her and --

Dammit. There they are again, my fingers on the knife. My heart pounding. I shouldn't be this way. This is bad. I should go cool off.

Breathing tense, I enter the door to downstairs and descend to the basement. At the end of the hallway, a bookcase awaits.

I have to go there. I need the privacy. I need the silence.

After double-checking no one else is coming, I draw out a worn, blue book from the shelf. I open it, pick up the key from the hollow inside and return the book to its place. I push aside the bookcase to reveal a door behind it, a door I unlock and enter. I drag the case back to its position by a hole in its back. Finally, I close the door, lock it and pocket the key.

Always such a hassle, but always such a payoff.

I take a deep breath in the dark, ignoring the air’s stuffiness, savoring the cool silence. My silence. Here, I can do anything I want.

I flick the light on. The white-tiled floor, gray walls and wooden furniture appear, as still as ever. I like it. I like how nothing ever seems to change around here. Nothing moves unless I move it. Nothing enters unless I bring it. And nothing leaves… alive.

A door-sized wooden board leans against the wall on the back left. Seven times it has seen use, and it’s served me well each time. It’s been durable, just as I built it to be, just how HE wanted it.

Yes… HE. HE who resides in the fossil propped up on the altar in this very room. The fossil I took to Pewter three months ago to create another life for Him. The fossil I found all those years ago in Mt Moon, the one that changed my life forever - for the better.

The fossil is covered with a cloth, as it always is when I don’t want to disturb HIM. If it wasn’t for that, I might accidentally drop a glance at the spiral and summon HIM, and HE would no doubt wish for another ritual… and I wouldn't be able to refuse. But I’m not ready for the next one yet. Especially not now. I have Him to worry about.

The right side of the room holds my various knives hung from the strings of their scabbards. Most of them I’ve bought, but two I’ve crafted myself. They’re not as beautiful, but I’m no expert. Just an enthusiast.

I let myself sink into my memories for a bit. The memories with those knives. The pleasures.

A deep breath enters my lungs, then leaves. I think I feel better now. Calmer. My problem is fixed for the moment, but I know I’m just going to go right back to being pissed off when I see Him with the inkay again. Hmh.

Well… maybe it’s possible that this really isn’t as bad as it seems. Maybe He’ll have completely forgotten about her by tomorrow. Fads go by fast these days.

So here’s my plan, then. Go to Him and ask those questions I need answers for while repressing any rage building up with thoughts of how glad I will be when He comes to His senses the next day. If He doesn’t, at least I’ll have something to build on.

Yeah, I think I’m done with this room for now. If things go well, I won’t need to return in quite a while.

If not… I’ll worry about it then.

---​

 

[canisaries]

new chapter. rating is still teen, some language included. too addicted to this stupid freakin pokemon quest to come up with anything more to say so lessgo

---

CHAPTER 2
Sweet Schemes

---
​

“Oh my Gods, where do I start with her? Her eyes, her mantle, her lights, her tentacles? Her amazing voice? And her lyrics! They’re so beautiful! When I listen to her, I feel what she’s feeling! She’s just so… perfect, in every way!”

He then went on to describe every one of her visible body parts in painstaking detail. By the time He was done, I was sure I would have been able to draw up an accurate police sketch of the inkay, and I’m no artist. I’m amazed I managed to survive all of that without renovating the furniture with my knife.

When the night came and I crawled in bed, I still had hope. Hope He would move on and begin noticing me again. But in the morning He was still thumping His arms to the beats stuck in His brain and singing, chanting lyrics so asinine they could only be from someone like her. Ooh, he's just a loser, he don't know what he got, a begging chooser won't get no one as hot. How does she sleep at night, knowing she’s willingly created and shown to the public something so terrible?

Nevertheless… I somehow retained a tiny grain of optimism even after that. But when He came from school with His phone still firmly held with His suckers, playing another one of those damn videos, the naivety was thoroughly obliterated. As much as I adore Him, the sad fact seems to be that, as Jess would put it, He just has an incurable case of shit taste.

Ugh. Even now He’s at the couch watching some trashy celebrity news show on TV, just on the off chance they’ll have something on Shirlee. Is that even normal behavior anymore? Fonz seems to be pretty accepting of it, just sitting on the armchair with today’s news in his claws - you know, the actual news. Easy for him to be calm… he doesn’t need His attention the way I do.

I sigh and try to focus again on the crossword page I grabbed from the paper, the only page that matters to me. I’m not coming up with much for a plan to fix this Shirlee situation, so I might as well try to jog my brain with something else.

Hmm. I need an eight-letter word that means 'to waste'...

Ding-dong!

Oh, the doorbell. Is it Abe? No, Abe already came home a while ago, he went upstairs to work on his school project. Doubt it’s Jess, either, as he can just fly out the windows. Not that he goes outside that much, anyway.

Fonz leaves his newspaper on his seat and goes to answer the door. “Oh, hello,” he goes, but not in a tone you’d have for someone you know.

“Hello there!” answers a cheerful female voice. “There’s a package here for someone in this house. Can you sign this?”

“Oh, sure.”

I hear Fonz scribble his name into something - slowly, as his long claws don’t make clean writing too easy. Fonz Akai. The name he chose when he qualified for a free mon.

I get up and make my way to the hall in time to see a blonde woman in an orange uniform thank Fonz and leave.

“When did someone order something?” I ask the nidoking as he fetches the flat cardboard box left on our snow-coated porch. Looks like it’ll need a clearing swipe of the yard brush when the snowfall calms down.

“We ordered something last night,” says Fonz and brings the package to the living room. I close the door and follow.

“Is that the thing?” asks Helix, raising Himself on the tips of His limbs out of excitement.

“Sure is!” Fonz responds, sits down and shows his palm to me. “Spare your knife?”

I grunt to myself and unsheathe the knife on my belt. I give it to the nidoking, but only because I’m curious.

Clumsily yet still cautiously, Fonz uses the blade to cut the sealing tape of the box. He opens the lid and pulls out a large black t-shirt. On its front, there's a yellow-pink logo printed - a star with ribbons - and in white, the words 'BE A STAR'. Below the logo, something’s written in silver marker. A closer look reveals it to be a name. 'Shirlee'. Her signature.

An odd creaking noise arises from somewhere in the room, baffling me until I realise it’s my lord, squealing in delight. “Put it on, put it on!” He urges Fonz, who takes off his usual jacket and replaces it with the shirt.

“Oh my Gods, this is great!” He gushes.

“...Since when have you been a fan too, Fonz?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“I’m not specifically a fan,” he explains, modeling the shirt to my lord in different poses. “But since there was no wearable merch for omanyte, I offered to wear some for Him.”

They actually bought merchandise. So He’s willing to spend money on her. He's really serious about this.

“How much did it cost?” I ask quietly.

Fonz avoids my gaze. “Well, it was a signed copy, so it was a bit more expensive than a normal one…”

“How much?” I can feel my skull heat up. If it's any more that thirty --

“A hundred,” he slips.

A hun-

“Excuse me for a moment,” I say between my teeth and turn around.

“I-It's worth the price! I made Him promise to do all of His homework --" Fonz tries, but I’ve already gone to the basement stairs and started descending. I walk all the way to the hidden door, make sure he hasn't followed me, take care of the whole bookcase business and enter.

As the door touches its frame and the silencer circuit - the brilliant Helixian invention - closes, I’m freed.

“FUCK!” The word erupts from my throat like an entei’s fiery roar. My voice box sure feels like it’s burning after, but I’m not done yet.

“A hundred!” I growl. I want to throw something, but everything here is too valuable. I clench my fists tighter, nails digging into the skin, but the release of my rage is still too slow. How do I get this all out?

“Mewfuckin’… bitch...” No, that’s not gonna do it. Curses have lost their edge, they lose their power for everyone around puberty. So what do adults do? Adults… they… shouldn’t I know this? I’m eighteen. Technically an adult. But I dropped out of high school. Do they teach you about being an adult in the final year?

Adults can’t scream, they can’t throw things, they can’t break things, they definitely can’t kill things… what can they do? What do they do? They… talk to their friends? They rant. I guess they can do that. But I don’t have any friends. Only the vessel of a god, the god of the vessel and people that live in the same house as me. I can’t disturb the previous two. Fonz I should have watching over Him, and Abe and Jess… Abe’s a wimp and Jess is a douchebag. Both would just piss me off more. So I have no one. Or…

This really won’t help my argument against the people insisting I’m crazy, but I kneel before the cupboard under my knives on display and open the doors. Jars of translucent yellowish liquid, each containing a chunk of flesh, stare back with their numbered labels. One to seven.

“He bought a t-shirt,” I lament, “for a hundred...”

I lie down on my side. The white tiles aren’t comfortable, but for a man tiring from his emotions, it’s as good as anything else.

“It had a signature, sure,” I continue, “but in the end, what does that really mean? She just wrote her name on it, probably with a cheap marker, and moved onto the next hundred… there’s nothing personal about it. Why couldn’t He see that? Why couldn’t He tell that, to her, He’s just another spoinky-bank?”

My hand draws to my forehead. “A hundred… you know, while the money itself isn’t the important thing, I have to admit that I’m pretty damn pissed about a hundred going down the drain like that. On a shirt, a lousy t-shirt. It’s a scam. How do they allow that? Do people not notice? Am I the only one? I’m always the only one...”

No response. I know why, but in this brief insanity, I sit up to stare at my listeners, a little offended that no one’s speaking up. I mean, hell, you’re tongues. Your whole job is speaking.

I snort. “You know, I think I know now how Rechsal felt when his son returned. From that story they tell of his early farmer days, you kn- actually, you wouldn’t know, it’s Helixian stuff. But anyway, his son had asked for his inheritance in advance to expand the family business to the nearby town. Having got it, he’d run off to spend it on luxury and prostitutes instead, and eventually lost it all. Nowhere else to go, he’d come crawling back to his father, telling him the tale. I imagine what I’m feeling right now is somewhere along the lines of how Rechsal felt upon hearing all that.”

The story continues in my head. I frown, then flinch as I think of Him in the son’s position. I shake my head, hoping to fling off the gruesome mental images.

"I could never do to Him what Rechsal did to his son," I say quietly. "I could never hurt Him. I could never even yell at Him. He's like my own heart beating outside my body. I need to protect Him. It's the very least I can do after He saved me during my journey. Kept me sane, gave me hope, despite all the pain...

"And this situation isn't really His fault, is it? He's just a kid right now. Impressionable. It's that inkay, Shirlee, who's to blame… she's manipulated Him. Brainwashed, even. Torn Him away from me."

Just the thought of her face enrages me. I find my fingernails sinking in my palms once more. Here I go again, getting so angry…

I wish I could just erase her. Have her disappear. But that's not something I can do. Her security must be crazy - pop stars take great caution so that not just any creep can get within mouthbreathing distance. They have fan interactions at concerts and other events, but those are pretty short-lived, only lasting for a signature or two. I’d need to gain her personal trust before she'd let me see her without surveillance.

But even if I did manage to reach that point and snuff her out, I'd never get away with it. She has too many people around her that would either catch me right after the act or know to suspect me first. That suspicion would lead to furious investigation. Sooner or later, they’d find out something incriminating - or even worse, make up something incriminating to sate the bloodthirst of the masses demanding justice - and then it’s years in jail for me. Life, if they find out about my jarred friends here. Or, if they’re angry enough, death. I shudder.

Not that murder would even solve my problem in the end. The public would be devastated, and so would Him, most likely. Shirlee would be a martyr, her death a tragedy, and that would make her even bigger than she is now. All her faults would be rubbed away in remembrance, leaving behind a perfect impression, an icon, something even easier to worship…

The same would come even with just a crippling injury, so I can’t do that, either. Not that she’d have any bones to break. She’s squishy, like Him. I would’ve loved to learn about her kind under different circumstances, I bet. Mollusks have grace and beauty only I seem to be able to see…

Psh. I can’t do anything to her, can I. But I can’t do anything to Him, either, on the risk of Him only slipping further away, drawing away from my touch, rejecting me… an agonizing thought. I can’t do anything to myself - if I could, this wouldn’t be a problem in the first place. It’s so constricting to feel this helpless...

“What can I do?” I sigh, on the off chance any jar would have something to suggest.

What did Rechsal do to his son?

“No, I don’t want to get into that!” I snap at the stray thought reflecting off the jars. “That wasn’t the point of my story, anyway...”

Who even was Rechsal?

“Still not important,” I grunt. Though it’s not like I’m in a hurry. I may as well let my mouth run.

“He was a farmer. A farmer who was exceptionally clever, though brutal. But if you know Helixians, you know both of those traits are wanted. It was them that eventually had him end up as a… bitel, I don’t know what we’d call that. It’s like a regional ruler of sorts. Big shot with military power and responsibility, anyway. Though it did help that the last guy was let go and the position was conveniently open. Rechsal definitely didn’t seem like he’d fall for the same ruse that brought down that previous guy, Karagi. You see, the neighboring nation that the region was warring against - Turon, I think - managed to find out that Karagi largely relied on his wife, Nael, who was really the actual brains behind him. She should’ve been the bitel, really, but I guess Karagi had more charisma or Nael didn’t want the spotlight.

“Anyway, one unfortunate day, Nael was assassinated by the Turonians. Karagi was not only devastated, but also in a big predicament as now he had no one to lean on. However, having known Nael for so long, he remembered enough of her genius, and remained undefeated in his warring efforts.

“Then the king of Turon had an idea. When word came that Karagi was looking for a new companion, he sent in a female most reminiscent of Nael as a spy, whom the bitel then married. Turon’s king knew Karagi didn't allow anyone close to him any contact to the other nations, so exchanging intel was not an option - instead, he ordered the woman to poison Karagi’s mind with the worst of techniques. Karagi, so used to listening to Nael, really did take the advice, and so came his downfall. The soldiers knew to blame the woman, who was then executed - and, well, eaten, given they were Helixians. They did keep Karagi alive, though, in case he still had more remnants of Nael’s wisdom. But in general, the people refrained from speaking of him, and so he disappeared from the public --”

Hold on, now.

Did I just get an idea?

Could I, perhaps, make Shirlee disappear from the public consciousness?

I grit my teeth from knowing how long a shot this is, but it's still a shot. I could try to get in touch with her on a safe level. Like letters. She must get a lot of those, but if I send enough and I seem unique - which I must be, being an adult human male in a horde of young girls - I have to get to her eventually. And if I'm charming enough, I could get a response. A conversation. A meetup, a relationship. I'll become someone she listens to. Her Nael. Then I'll give her horrible ideas disguised as encouragement and support. She'll take them, and she'll crash and burn! The admiration will turn to ridicule and rage! She'll have to disappear!

Or, well, I suppose it’s enough if she becomes repulsive simply to my lord. I don’t need to collapse her entire career. Though it would be satisfying to see, I admit.

Yes, even if I only have to make her unattractive to Him, this plan is still more far-fetched than a duck with a leek. But it beats sitting around and withering while my lord pines for another. It’s something to do, and even if it fails, I won’t get shot or jailed.

So how do I start? I’ll have to know where to send those letters. That information will likely be somewhere online. Ugh, I’ll have to get someone else’s help, given my techphobic condition. But how can I do that without arousing suspicion in them?

My eyes widen. Of course! I’ll have Him send her a letter of His own! If I make it into a kind of common activity, I’ll be able to gather the information I need. It might even help Him notice me better. It’s the perfect plan.

There’s no reason to wait. I get up and give the jars one last look. “Thanks for listening, girls,” I tell them and shut the cupboard. By now, my spell of delusion has passed, so it’s mostly just awkward hearing my speech in the silence.

Alright. Once I step out of this room, my plan will be in motion. The seed will be planted, the seed that will grow into the victreebel that’ll ensnare that inkay and swallow her whole. Then there’s be no more ignoring or squandering from my lord.

Oh, ‘squander’. That fits in the crossword. Gotta remember that when I get back upstairs.

---​

“...You, uhh, happy about something?” Fonz asks.

I lean onto the back of the couch, hunched over my lord, who appears to be watching yet another video. “What do you mean?”

“You’re grinning so much,” Fonz says. “It’s… pretty creepy. Are you planning something?”

“Why, yes, I am,” I reply, circling around the couch and taking a seat, earning a split-second glance from the omanyte. “I’ve come up with something fun for all of Us to do together.”

Fonz is visibly unnerved. Tch. And here I thought he trusted me.

I place a hand on my lord’s shell and give Him a gentle nudge. He pauses His video and yanks out his earphones.

I smile wider again. “My lord, you really like that Shirlee, don’t you?”

“Uhh, yeah I do!” Already He seems excited at the mere mention of His idol. I’d feel delight at His joy if it wasn’t there for all the wrong reasons.

“Have you considered personally telling her just how much you do?”

“I have daydreams about that!” His tentacles flop around like a growlithe’s tail.

“Well… you could always send a letter,” I coyly suggest.

His arms freeze. “A letter? Like, A-B-C?”

“N-no, my lord. I mean as in… a piece of paper with a message.”

“Ohh, right, right, yeah, those. But why don’t I just send an email?”

The thought of the white screen chills my body, but I quickly bring myself back to reality. “Oh, emails are so impersonal and soulless… you don’t have the choice of color, writing style, glitter --”

Ah, shit. That may have made my condescension too obvious. Luckily, my lord didn’t seem to pick it up, even if Fonz did, based on his disapprovingly narrowing eyes.

“Actually, you do, if you just put in images,” the omanyte instead comments.

Ugh, right, technology’s come a long way and all that shit. “But, my lord, going to the trouble of hand-crafting a message and sending it through the slow path shows how much effort You’re willing to put in for her. Wouldn’t she appreciate that extra effort, my lord?”

“Oh, you’re right. Let’s do it!”

“Wonderful. You’ll get to use what You’ve learned in school so far, too, and learn even more. We just need to find out where exactly the letter should be sent to...” I turn to Fonz. “I take it you’ll help with that, if He can’t fully read yet.”

“Mm-hm,” he nods with a smile. It appears he’s warming up to the idea.

“Perfect. You two figure that out, while I go find Us some materials.” I turn to head off, but Fonz gets up from his chair.

“Could I have a word with you first?”

Ugh. “Yes, of course.”

He leads me to the bedroom of the floor - the room where my lord’s water tank resides, as well as a double bed. The original users of the bed are long gone. One barely sets foot in this house anymore, instead living with a friend and supporting her kids through a bank account alone. The other’s whereabouts and entire identity are a mystery to me.

I would have loved to move in to this room, but my lord tells me it’s 'creepy' how I like to watch Him fall asleep and awaken. Instead, it’s where Fonz sleeps. I guess that makes it king-sized.

Before the door closes, I take one last peek at my lord through the crack. I know He’s no longer a hatchling and will be perfectly fine by Himself, but still…

“What exactly are you planning?” asks Fonz, keeping his voice down as he knows the door doesn’t block out everything.

“A fun activity for a child and His caretakers,” I calmly reply. “What of it?”

“It doesn’t take an alakazam to figure out something’s off here,” he says, pointing an accusing claw at me. “This Shirlee fixation of His is clearly bothering you. Why would you suddenly make a one-eighty and encourage that?”

“Well…” I enter the puppy-eyes mode I’ve become quite good at during my years as a lying bastard. “I’ve realized I’ve been pretty selfish. I shouldn’t be so concerned with how happy He makes me, but instead how happy I make Him.” I change my stare to an offended one. “But I’m not experienced in being generous at my own expense, so excuse me if my smiles seem forced.”

Fonz sighs. “That’s what’s happening here?”

“Yes. Trust me for once, why don’t you?”

“Fine,” he mutters and reaches for the door, but stops. “You know… the other day Helix asked me why you call Him your lord.”

I flinch. “He… didn’t remember?”

“Guess not. But it made me wonder --”

“What did you tell Him?” I demand.

“Well, I told Him that it’s because you think He’s very special,” he replies, “but that I didn’t know the specifics, and that He’d have to ask you. I guess He forgot to. But it got me wondering...” He clacks his claws together. “Is it really good for Him, to have you as His ‘servant’? In the last lifetime, it may have been what made Him a little cocky... maybe even entitled. If this time around, you were more of an equal and more, you know, grounded, He could learn to be more respectful, which could help Him better keep friendships...”

Fonz is talking and there are words and all, but I can’t really focus on what he’s saying when I’ve just learned that my lord no longer remembers why He’s my lord.

How much has He forgotten? Is it just the term that’s a mystery to Him, or… has the entire journey been erased from His mind? How much of the original Him is left? How much does He remember of me? Of Us? Am I just a friendly stranger?

I want to tell myself it’s only absentmindedness or that it’s taking some time for the memories to return post-reincarnation, but the cold grip at my heart warns against self-deception. If He doesn’t remember who I really am, who We are, this Shirlee thing might be even worse than I thought.

Which is why it’s all the more important that I go through with this plan.

I haven’t been listening to Fonz for the past dozen seconds, but with my eye contact and nods, he doesn’t seem to have noticed. I wait for the next pause to occur and jump back into the conversation.

“Well,” I sigh, “you’ve given me something to think about. Is it alright if I get back to you later? I wanna sort out my thoughts.”

He seems mildly surprised. “Oh, um… I guess, sure. Just come back to me later about it, okay?”

I nod. When he asks me about this next time, I’ll claim to have forgotten, which will likely even be true, and ask for a refresher. I can give my honest thoughts then.

“Alright,” he says and opens the door. “Let’s go do our parts, then.”

I smile, and we return to the living room.

---​

After hours of fidgeting with construction paper, practicing handwriting, drawing flowers and cleaning up spilled glitter - yes, We actually ended up using that - the letter was enveloped, transported to a mailbox and therefore sent to Shirlee’s fanmail address. Her site said she would have the mail redirected and personally read even on her tours, which better happen after all this trouble.

Nevertheless, the whole experience taught me everything I needed to make my own letter, right here in my secret room at near midnight.

I rest my jaw on my left hand as I jot down ideas on a sheet of gridded paper. Some phrases I underline, putting extra importance on their content. Some ideas I realize are complete garbage the moment I get them out there on the paper and blacken them away with a scribble of the ballpoint pen.

Let’s see. I need to be polite, but not formal. Admiring, but not clingy. Supportive, but not bootlicking. But most importantly of all, I need to be consistent in the character I’m going to be playing.

I take another sheet of grid paper and begin drafting the first version of the letter. It's crude, but at this stage, it’s supposed to be. The draft is finished and another begins on the paper's flip side. This one is better, but too unnatural. The paragraphs are all the same length and all have their own subject, as if I was writing an essay meant to be read with the mind rather than the heart.

At the start of the third, a crushing wave of impatience and despair comes over me. Why am I even bothering with this? She’ll surely see through these lies. But I know things will keep getting worse if I do nothing. The potential of this plan is what's keeping my anger from growing.

Besides, people are far dumber than what they're given credit for. And I doubt the girl who writes lines like 'shake ass, make cash' is a master of literary analysis.

Actually… maybe it’s a bit unnecessary to put this much trouble in the very first letter - and not just because Shirlee’s likely not the cleverest mon. The letter might get lost in the mail or she might actually only read a fraction of the mail sent to her. Either way, the power of my plan lies strongly on the large number of these letters.

Well, it doesn’t seem to matter much now - three drafts behind me, I think I’m ready to start the real thing.

I drag away the drafts and replace them with a clean white card. I spin the ball of the pen on one draft’s corner, making sure there's ample ink. There is.

Finally, I begin the letter. The pen starts its dance on the white, its partner my hand. Beautiful curves form symbol after symbol as my deceitful story is poured onto the paper. All doubt from before - gone. I haven't been this confident in a while.

Yes… every chocolate-laced sentence is another loop of the arbok wrapping around the gullible girl, and each period tightens up the coil. The unsuspecting prey willingly lets herself be captured, distracted too much by the sweet words to realize her impending doom. And then, when she’s squeezed too strongly to mind anything more, a kiss comes from the serpent - a tiny prick of its fangs, the venom to poison her mind. Her body loses its color and her living force withers away.

Then the arbok would naturally separate its jaws and swallow its prey, but the metaphor really stops matching there.

There. A finished letter. So simple, just black on white, but so elegant. Now all it needs is a signature. I guess I should use my real one - getting caught lying will not help in maintaining her trust.

Red… Akai. Hope she isn't put off by the odd name. Then again, she'd be one to talk.

I slip the letter in an envelope, seal that and write the address. I get up. My legs wiggle a bit beneath me. I guess I have been sitting for a while, and it's also very late.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll return here to get the letter, drop it off in the mail and come back to plan the next. For now, I better get some sleep. It's the least I can give my brain when His grace is unavailable.

---​

 

[canisaries]

surprise surprise, a miracle happened and i got a whopping 1000 words written just today - meaning chapter 3 has become complete a few days before i expected! and wouldn't you know it, surprises are right in line with this chapter... read on to find out. still rated teen. still has language.

---

CHAPTER 3
Tipsy-Turvy

---​

Tiny snowflakes land on my glove as I push the envelope into the slit of the mailbox. It thunks on the bottom, a letter and a photo within, and I let the slit’s cover drop shut.

I sigh, a visible puff of vapor leaving my mouth. This is it - she’s finally going to know what I look like. I hope my appearance won’t work against me… I might consider myself good-looking, but approachable? Not so much. Tired eyes, murkrow feathers for hair, a good amount of muscle on me from daily exercise. With a little more bulk and some scars and tattoos, the cops would start wondering what gang I'm part of.

I tried putting on my best face for the photo - taken and printed by a very bored Jess - but there was just… hatred in my eyes, no matter what I did. Jess didn’t mention it, but most likely he just didn’t care and wanted the shoot over with.

No, maybe I'm overthinking this… and it’s no use worrying about it now, anyway. I’ve tried my best. And my best better be good enough. My patience is starting to run out and so are pretty words to put in letters. When I'm impatient, I get angry, and when I’m angry, I get… harder to control.

A freezing gust of wind grabs onto my clothes and shakes them, some of the chill seeping through. I shiver like a snorunt. I better head back home.

I get moving, careful not to step on the blotches of ice on the sidewalk. A gray blanket of cloud covers the sky, little specks of snow dropping down from it and thrown about by the occasional breeze.

I’m not a fan of winter. The sun is often away, and when it isn't, the outside is frigid and blindingly bright. I can't rely as much on calming walks outside to manage my temper. I’m stuck indoors with the very source of my annoyance - people.

“Jeremy!” a woman yells somewhere, breaking the flow of my thoughts. “Slow down!”

I look in the shout's direction. A small boy in a blue tracksuit is running from a yard to the road. With a car approaching. Oh, this could be funny. Hit him, hit him!

At the last second, tires screech and the vehicle swerves to dodge. The little boy recoils in terror, but is left unharmed, much to the relief of the woman. She rushes to him and yanks him to safety. Damn.

Nah… maybe it was better this way. As no one got hurt, no one can call me an eyewitness and drag me into any legal shit. I’m already stressed enough as is.

I shake my head and resume my walking. I still have another letter to write.

---​

“Shoot him, Hope! He’s caused us so much pain!”

The gun shakes in the young woman’s hand as she points it at the dictator. The aimed-at man, his arms in the air, still grins to torment the main character. What a piece of shit. Just shoot him. He’s been a jackass for the entire two hours of my time and twenty years of yours. You have literally no reason not to shoot him.

After seconds of suspenseful music and closeups of faces, the girl lowers the gun. Dammit!

“I can’t, Adrien. If I kill him, I’m no better than him.”

Oh my Gods, they always do this. That’s it. I’m done.

I switch off the TV with its remote and let my head rest on the couch’s end. I glance at the DVR’s clock. 00:12, say the green numbers glowing in the living room’s darkness.

I sigh. I’m tired, but I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want tomorrow to come. I don’t want to brush my teeth, do my workout, take a shower and eat breakfast, all just to feel His cold shoulder again. The metaphorical cold shoulder. I’d love to feel His physical cold shoulder.

Why couldn’t it just be the way it used to be? Why do I have to lie on the couch all alone watching some shitty movies, when I should be lying on the couch with Him, watching shows just as shitty but not minding it? There’s an empty spot right here on my chest where His shell would perfectly fit. He would be leaning on my sternum, hearing my single mammalian red-blooded heart beat in peace. I would hold an arm over Him, protecting Him, embracing Him. Feeling things I couldn't feel with anyone else.

Slap!

What was that? Sounded like it came from the door.

Slap! Slap!

I think that's an attempt at knocking. But who the hell would have any business here at this hour? And why don’t they just ring the bell if it’s so important?

I get up, make my way to the door and unsheathe my knife. If it’s some drunkard or other creep, I may need it for self defense. A part of me hopes that would be the case - I’d get to stab them and see some nice blood in this dry spell.

My pulse quickens as I reach for the handle. After making sure my blade is hidden yet ready, I twist the lock and carefully open the door.

On the other side, there is… a floating winter coat? Am I hallucinating?

No, something’s inside that coat. I can see two large eyes peeking out beneath the flopped-down hood.

“H-hi,” peeps a voice from within. “A-are you Red A-Akai?”

“Who... wants to know?” I ask, eyeing the odd creature, trying to make sense of it.

The sleeves of the jacket rise and bend to open up the zipper. One of them flips away the fuzz-lined hood. A pink mantle marked with a yellow star is revealed. I freeze. That’s…

“Y-yeah, it’s meee-eh,” Shirlee laughs, tired.

I… am I sure I’m not hallucinating? Or did I fall asleep on the couch? This feels too real to be a dream, and yet… I’m staring at the impossible.

“Um, you’re probably wondering why I’m here,” she continues. “I, like… got your letters and… ughh...” Her words sound somewhat slurred, and her train of thought seems to be derailing. Is she…? Does it even work for cephalopods the same way? I’ve never allowed Him to drink, just in case…

“Are you drunk?” I blurt out and immediately regret it. I shouldn't be that forward, dammit! I need to think before I act. I mean, maybe this is just a dream, but on the off chance it isn't, I need to play my cards right to not let this amazing chance slip away. And even if I am dreaming, this is great practice.

“Aaaa little, yeah,” she answers, apparently unbothered by my rudeness. “I-I know this is maybe not h-how you thought I would be like, but… like, you’re so understanding, I figured you’d get it.”

Really? She was… that easily convinced by my lies?

She shivers. “It’s cold… can I come in?”

"Y-yes, absolutely!" I move aside and let the inkay slide in. Shutting the door, I remember the knife in my hand and swiftly return it to its scabbard. I can't afford to have her feel threatened.

Shirlee gasps, and I jump thinking she'd seen the blade, but see she's looking away. She flips her hood back on and withdraws into the coat. "Are there others here? I shouldn't let them see me..."

"N-no one's here but me," I rush to say. "Awake, I mean. You're fine, but let's stay quiet."

She relaxes. "Ah, good… sorry, b-but I just don't think I can trust them not to blab… especially that kid you lived with, the omamanyte…"

"Omanyte."

"Yeah. No offense, but kids are bad at keeping secrets…"

"Yeah, I get it." I can't even imagine what a mess it would be if He saw her now.

Shirlee sets her hood down again and slides off her coat. Her skin glistens in the light of the hall’s lamp, the only major light in this house at the moment. I could turn on some more, but then again, I shouldn’t - it could leak into the downstairs bedroom where my lord and Fonz sleep and wake either up. And the darkness… it’s quite atmospheric, isn’t it?

It frames her cephalopodic form, contrasts with her pastel colors, makes her sparkling wetness shine so much brighter. Prized garden flowers in the morning dew… none of this translated to the digital screen.

But perhaps He knew it was there. Perhaps that’s why He’s so enamoured. Jess may have been right after all. She really is a seductress. Stealing hearts, demanding ransom for them, and the naive fools, they pay it time and time again…

What have you made of my beloved, you witch? You’ve taken away His mind, His freedom. For what, money? You have enough of it. You are greedy. You are despicable. And now you’ve come to my house, my den, expecting me to cater to your will. You’re smiling at the mawile. All alone. No witnesses...

I approach her silently. She has no idea, she’s deep in her drunken thoughts, staring at the coat she’s holding. This is the perfect chance. I raise my hands, preparing to pounce. I don’t know what I’ll do to her - I can’t strangle someone without a neck - but I know I’ll make it painful. Just a little closer --

She turns around.

“Oh, right. Here.” She pushes the coat into my hands and heads for the living room.

I stand still, the coat in my frozen grasp. Five beats of my heart later, I regain my senses.

“Right,” I mumble and hang her coat in the hall. What the hell was I thinking? I can’t kill her! Just because no one’s witnessing the act, it doesn’t mean I won’t be caught. High profile, remember? You need to manipulate, not mutilate.

I sigh to myself and enter the living room. The inkay, having looked around enough, hovers to the couch and splats down on it. Rude...

Wait. Hovers. With telekinetic powers, since she’s psychic. What other psychic powers does she have? Could she be capable of mind tricks? It’s taboo, yes, and illegal as well, but if she’s drunk enough to come to some random fan’s house, she could be drunk enough to try something questionable. And that would ruin me, unless…

I lean to Shirlee and clear my throat, catching her attention. “U-um, I’m very sorry,” I begin, “but I just remembered I was in the middle of something. Is it okay if I leave for just a minute?”

“Oh, s-sure,” she replies. Thank the Gods.

I hurry downstairs and, as quickly as a heavy bookcase can be moved around, enter the secret room. I locate my notebook of seals and the medicinal kit from their respective places in the shelves and bring them to the desk at the back middle of the room. Flipping through the pages, I find the seal I need and unsheathe my knife.

I let my left hand rest palm up on the desk and pull back the hoodie’s sleeve. Faint stripes run along and across the wrist - remnants from previous seals. I disinfect the area of the skin along with the blade of my knife, then prepare for the sting and push the tip in. Suppressing the reflex to pull away from the pain, I carve the pattern shown on the notebook’s page.

The psychic protection seal. One of the ancient gifts HE gave HIS followers. It nullifies one’s mental presence to outsiders, protecting the mind against any tricks tried. I was going to wait until receiving an invitation from Shirlee to carve it, as the seal only works until the wounds heal, but I guess I’ll just have to retrace the scars later if needed.

Finished, I wipe the wound clean and bandage it, then clean the knife as well and sheathe it. I put away the rest of the equipment as well and hurry out of the room. I don’t want Shirlee snooping around my place too much or leaving in boredom.

Bookcase slid back in place and key re-hidden, I dash back upstairs, though slow down for the last steps in order not to appear desperate.

“I’m back,” I say, closing the door to the basement. “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

“N-nah, it’s fine,” answers a voice from the couch, followed soon by two tentacles grabbing onto the back and lifting the inebriated invertebrate into view. “I showed up unannounced anyway...”

She sighs and covers her face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come, I just… I was drinking again and reading your letters and I was so pissed at everyone and you seemed to be the only person who actually got me...”

“No, no, it’s no trouble.” I rush to the couch, sitting next to her with the most sympathetic face I can feign. I have to strike while the iron is hot. “It really must be tough being someone like you… to have people watching your every move, expecting you to be perfect at all times.”

“It is! See, you get me. Unlike everyone else… I wish I could tell them off, but the backlash would be horrible...”

Horrible, huh?

“Shirlee...” I lean closer to her. Her big, naive eyes open up fully, briefly shedding the haze of the alcohol. “Why not just do it?”

“B-because it would ruin me, I told you,” she says, puzzled. “And I-I mean, I’ve tried to add some stuff into my lyrics already, but it never works...”

“I know, but it’s too subtle,” I purr. “Your lyrical genius goes right above their heads. You need to be frank with them. Assert your will. You’re the star, you should have the say in your show.”

“B-but my fans got me where I am --"

“Fans?” I spit, startling her. Okay, maybe I should tone it down a bit. “If they don't let you have your freedom, they're not your fans. What have they done for you? Only thrown pennies at you and demanded your life in return. You’ve given them your heart and soul. You don't owe them - they owe you.”

Gods, I sure hope the alcohol will help me here, as that made no sense.

“But they’ll leave me…” She looks at the floor. She's still hesitant… I’ll just have to pounce on every doubt that pops up and claw it down.

“They wouldn’t dare leave you. They can't live without you. They’ll see the error of their ways and rectify their behavior.”

“I don't know…”

“You do know. You just have to make the right choice. And you being the person you are… I know you will.”

I move closer to force her eyes on me, then drill an unwavering stare right into them. They’re quite big, almost like His, but a cheap imitation. No, a bastardization. She’s sullying His image. She should pay for it. My fingers curl for a fist -- no. Suppress that rage. You’re supposed to play friendly. I hope she didn’t see that flash of anger. Did she…? Did I blow it?

A dull buzzing from the hall interrupts us. Her eyes pull away. But what was the answer?

“I gotta get that,” she groans and yanks herself off the couch. My left wrist immediately tingles. The right hand moves to scratch it, but recoils right off as the wounds sting in agitation. Right, yeah, the seal reacts to psychic energies around it. Gotta get used to that...

Shirlee floats to the hall, snatches the vibrating phone out of her coat and answers it. “Hi...” Her face is guilty, like that of a houndour snarled at by its mother.

“Where the hell are you?” a man’s voice growls on the other end.

“A-at a friend’s...”

“Doing what, drinking? You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you? This better be the last fuckin’ time. No, what am I saying, it’s not gonna be the last time, it’s never the last time, because you always fuckin’ do it again! I’m doing my best keeping this boat afloat and you just keep punchin’ more and more holes in!”

“I’m sorry...” Something glints in her eye. A tear?

“I don’t care! Forget it! Just tell me where you are so someone can come get you!”

Shirlee’s eyes squint as she struggles to recall my address. “Koratta Row 14.”

“Koratta Row...” The man pauses for a few seconds. “What the hell are you doing in Pallet Town?”

“I said I was at a fr-”

“Whatever. Someone’ll be there in twenty minutes or so. You better leave willingly.”

“Oka-” she tries, but the call ends. She whines.

Oh, would you look at that, another fantastic opportunity for me to plunge my fearow beak in. I turn my head to hide a quick smile, then reset my face and get up.

“Who was that?” I ask. “He sounded awful...”

“My manager...” she peeps. “He’s gonna yell at me even more in the morning, I’m sure.”

“He has no right to talk to you that way,” I say and walk to her. “He needs to be called out, too.”

Her eyes widen. “Nooo, no, no, no!” she bumbles, raising her tentacles. “I-I could call out others, but never him. He has too much, too much power.” With those words, she slumps over, defeated. “He’s right. It’s all my fault for drinking.”

“Shirlee, look at me.” She does. “If a king hoards all the bread in the kingdom, is it the citizens’ fault for stealing it?”

“That’s not really what’s happening h-”

“Well, not literally, no - but he keeps you in this situation, and this situation drives you to drink. Therefore, he made you drink. He’s blaming his mistakes on you. You’ve done nothing wrong!”

She looks down again, silent. I should let her cool off.

“Sorry… it’s just that I hate seeing injustice happen,” I sigh, stepping back. “We don’t have to talk about this. I mean, you should have a break while you still can.” I move to the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“I think I’ve had enough to drink for today...”

“I just mean water. I hear it helps with the hangover.” In humans, at least. Again, don't know about squids.

“Ohh, the hangover...” She floats out of the hall, holding her head. “That’ll be a bitch.”

“Water, then?”

“Sure...”

I take two glasses out of the cupboard.

“Wait,” she says. I freeze. “I shouldn’t take drinks from strangers.”

I clench my teeth. I was hoping her common sense wouldn’t return until tomorrow. “Yeah, I get your point. We don’t know each other that well yet.” I put the glasses away.

Both of us return to the couch and sit down. I realize the tingling in my wrist has disappeared.

“I would… like to know you better, however,” I start. “Anything more you’d like to tell me about yourself? Or…” I change course, noticing her eyelids droop. “Would you just like to rest?”

“Yeah, I guess I’d like to just… lie down for a bit...” She slides onto her back. “I-if that’s not a problem,” she hastily adds.

“It’s no problem whatsoever,” I whisper, get up and walk to the kitchen. “I’ll keep watch for your ride.”

“Th-thanks.”

I can let myself grin again. Skepticism returning with her sobering up or not, the seed is planted. It may need more watering to grow, but it’s there, and no one knows of it but me. Good luck digging it out in time, Mr Manager.

I roll up the curtain of the kitchen window, only seeing a reflection stare back. I flick off the light. The darkness outside is revealed, only copper street lights illuminating the snowy road and the clouds above. I pull up a chair, sit down and fix my eyes on the gloomy winter night, knowing it’ll be a while before I get up again.

---

Eventually the car sent for Shirlee arrived. I woke her up, as she’d fallen asleep during the wait, handed her her coat and wished her well. She stopped me and asked me for my number, which I naturally told her I didn’t have as I had no phone. Upon realizing how outrageous said statement was in today’s society, I explained I had none at the time, which calmed the shocked squid down somewhat. Her ride’s driver begged her to go already, so we simply agreed on continuing to send letters as our form of communication. However, she did give me an address different from the common fanmail one, so exchanging information should be faster this time around.

What amazing luck I’ve had today. It stokes the fire within me, the fire of hope, anticipation of her downfall. It burns bright, giving such a warm feeling inside. It makes this bed of mine feel a thousand times softer as I lay down on it. Were I a persian, I’m certain I’d be purring.

I just need to wait a little more. Just a few more tugs at the inkay’s strings, and soon I’ll have Him in my arms, seeking comfort after His idol’s sudden turn and hurtful words. Maybe it’ll smart a bit seeing Him unhappy, but that pain will be completely overshadowed by the joy I get from comforting Him. Not that He’ll spend too long worrying about it, anyway. He’s only a child with a child’s attention span.

And if any other sirens come and try to take Him away, I’ll destroy them too. Grind them to dust without a second of hesitation. Because that’s who I am. What I am. Merciless.

I close my eyes and welcome tomorrow.

---​

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Oh Gods, no, no, no, no, why do you have to wake me up now…

I plunge my hand into the cold outside the shelter of my blanket and slam it down on the alarm clock. The infernal beeping ceases. Ughhh… I didn’t want that dream to end! I was just about to catch the last survivor…

The dream before that one was pretty sweet, too. I was watching some terrible movie when Shirlee showed up at the door out of nowhere and basically flung herself at me, begging to be manipulated to her demise. It felt so real at the time, but we all know that dreams always do, and only once we wake up, we…

...wait.

I lift the blanket to get a look at whatever’s pressing around my left wrist. It’s a bandage. The bandage that I applied in the… dream?

Don’t tell me… it actually happened?

Well, that or I’ve finally cracked. Everyone always knew that was a possibility, myself included.

Some kind of tapping comes from the hallway, drawing my attention to the door. After some thumps and scrapes, the handle turns and the door swings open. Perched on the handle on the other side is Jess. His expression is… ugh, I don't know. It's too early to try and read bird feelings.

He hops off and flits towards me, oh shit, watch the talons --

"Good morning, old trainer, old pal!" he says with cheer, landing on top of my hip. He isn’t heavy or anything, being built for flight and all, but it still isn’t exactly comfortable. I try to nudge him off while still wrapped in my soft, warm blanket, but the damn bird is just too persistent. I sigh and sit up, begrudgingly accepting the cold pouring into my little nest. Losing his platform, the pidgeot finally jumps off.

“What do you want?” I growl.

“Just a favor,” he says, “in return for the favor I did for you. You know, the photo?”

“Oh, and here I thought you just did that out of the goodness of your heart,” I mock, but the joke is really on me, given I pretty much actually thought so. Fonz and Abe don’t ask for anything in return for their favors, but it looks like their naivety isn’t as widespread as I thought.

I sigh again. I should hold up good relations in case I need Jess’s help in the future, and with all this celebrity stuff, that might be soon. Plus, it’s not like my schedule is bursting with things to be done, anyway - I could use something new to do. “What’s the favor?” I ask.

“You’re gonna be my cameramon! Man.” He coughs. “You see, I have this camera that’s pretty busted. Every once in a while, it stops recording for no reason. I’ve learned to live with it, but the fact is that checking after every couple of takes gets pretty annoying. So, all you gotta do is watch the screen and tell me if the recording’s stopped.”

“Sounds riveting.”

“Bah!” He smacks me lightly with a wing. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll get to see the kind of stuff I make, and how I make it! And we get to hang out in general. We haven’t done that in a while, and we should! I mean, we spent so much time together back in the journey days.”

A wave of bad memories splashes in my face - unending whispers, orders, shouts. Standing at the edges of battlefields, watching the fighters clash for the Voices’ entertainment. Obeying the demons’ nonsensical commands. Relaying the messages they wanted me to say. Wishing it could all just be over.

“Can you not bring that up?” I mutter, rubbing my face. “I don’t wanna deal with that shit so early in the morning.”

“Right, right...” he says, understanding, though more understanding would have been not to say anything about the journey at all. Birdbrain, indeed.

Jess clears his throat. “Anyway, I asked your brother, and he’s cool with me filming in his room. I think that one’s the best because my own’s basically a closet, and yours is…” He glances around the room, judging the bare gray walls and lack of furniture. “Well, it’s got kind of a prison cell aesthetic going on, not gonna lie. You might wanna get some posters or something, liven the place up. Might improve your mood, who knows.”

Posters of what, Jess? Mutilated corpses, fellow serial killers, terrors of the deep? Why don’t I just hang up some giant red flags while I’m at it?

Without warning, he pinches the blanket with his beak and yanks off what still covers me. "Come on! Up and at 'em!" he shouts, flapping his wings until his golden eyes stray onto my bare chest. "Whoa, you really have been working out. Where's your chest hair, though? You shave it?"

"...Yes." I don't. It just doesn't grow.

"Well, either way, time to go! Get a move on!" Gods, he's back to the flapping again. He's not giving up, is he?

"Gods, fine!" I snap, getting off the bed. "At least let me take a piss!"

"Atta boy!" Jess shouts as I drag myself to the bathroom across the hall. I make sure to lock the door behind me lest he try to barge in and give a running commentary on my business. Aim for the bowl, champ!

Oh, but wait. The bandage has caught my eye again. What will I do regarding Shirlee? Since it seems what happened last night really did happen… she gave me that special address to send letters to for faster reading… but she said she'd write me back as she left, didn't she? So do I just wait?

Well, I could wait, but I hate sitting on my ass and doing nothing. I should at least draft a letter of my own in the case I don’t hear from her soon enough. Thinking of what I’ll write will counteract the boredom of being Jess’s cameraman, too.

Okay, whatever, let’s call that settled for now, as I really wasn’t lying about needing to take that piss. I open my fly and try not to think too hard about what Jess would say if he was watching.

---​

 

[canisaries]

two words for you boyo: new chapter. feel like this story's moving along faster now that i've adopted a daily word goal. at first it was 200, now it's 250. i've ended up writing way more on a lot of days so i don't think 300 is necessary, at least yet.

NOTE FOR 2018 SUMMER AWARDS JUDGES: This chapter is not to be considered in judging, as it's posted after judging has begun.

anyway, rating still teen. i'm somewhat shocked i've managed to write this long without having anything mature-rated. any comments and thoughts are appreciated, thanks, enjoy

---

CHAPTER 4
Video Kills The Radio Star

---​

I've always known it gets quiet in this house, but only now, after listening to Jess blabbering on continuously for an hour, do I notice how strong the silence can be.

Fonz sits across from me at the round kitchen table, reading the newspaper and every now and then stealing a peek at the living room where the omanyte reads his homework. And listens to music. I don't have to guess what music. Ugh. At least I know I'm now a lot closer to ending this than before.

And I guess that session with Jess also brought me some good - I wouldn't have known what to put in this one spot of the crossword I'm doing had he not taught me the word 'smugleaf'. Apparently it's an obscure synonym for a species of mon in Unova and also some kind of 'meme'.

The newspaper rustles in Fonz's claws. He's staring through the kitchen window now. What's he seeing?

"Huh," he says, "someone's at our mailbox."

“Who is it?” I ask, though I don’t particularly care. It’s not like I ever get any ma-

Wait, no! This could be Shirlee’s letter!

“It’s some bird mon, I think that’s a tranq-” Fonz says, but stops in bewilderment as I jolt up and run out of the house, not bothering to put on any coat. I leap over the doorsteps and dash for the mailbox. A bird mon indeed stands before it, startled by my sudden appearance. A primitive warble escapes its beak, though the mon is likely civil given its harnessed satchel and scarf around its neck.

"Are you delivering or stealing?" I ask as I run, though it comes out sounding more like an incomprehensible war cry, not helped by my crude approach. It seems to go past what the mon considers normal and safe behavior, as it quickly stumbles to a takeoff, gray feathers fiercely flapping the air.

By the time I reach the mailbox, the bird has flown to the top of the nearby tree. Judging by its alarmed stare, it's prepared to flee completely in case my conduct gets weirder.

I'm about to repeat my question more clearly, but the corner of an envelope peeking out from the slit of the mailbox renders it unnecessary. I snatch the letter and check the sender. 'Miss S'. Yes, it's Shirlee! She must have written that instead of her name in case someone else in the house got to the letter first. She's smarter than I thought.

Since the cold is beginning to sting, and I have no reason to stay out here longer anyway, I head back inside. The gray bird, assuming its job is done, sighs and takes flight for its next destination.

Upon returning indoors, I face a very curious Fonz, but I can't let him know about my little pen pal. I wave a hand at the nidoking's questions, mumbling that it doesn't concern him, and skip straight to upstairs. I enter my room, shut the door and lie on the bed with the envelope in my hands.

Alright! Let's see what we've got.

I rip the envelope open with my knife and dig in to the letter inside.

Dear Red

First things first, I want to thank you for your amazing hospitality the other night. I had no right to barge into your house in the dead of the night like that, much less drunk, yet you let me in and even stayed awake to see me leave in safety. You’re a true gentleman.

Oh, stop it, you. You’re making me blush, even if it’s from the rush of my deception working perfectly.

I do wish you’d taken the time to handwrite this, though, instead of just typing the text and printing it out. It’s pretty tacky considering the effort I put in. Or… well, I guess you get a pass if your telekinesis isn’t that dextrous. In the end, it’s called handwriting, and you don’t have hands. That’s one aspect I don’t envy about the bodies of bestial mon. Back to the letter, though...

Then, onto the main subject… my memories of what you said that night may be fuzzy, but the message of your words stuck with me. It’s true that I’ve been mistreated and taken for granted. This is why, after a lot of thinking, I’ve decided to create a special video that I’ll be putting up on my official MewTube account at 5.00 pm (Kanto time, naturally) on Friday. I trust you’ll want to see it. Although, I don’t know how your omanyte friend will take it. I hope he’ll understand.

Wait, really? You’re going through with it already? I… I’ve succeeded?

I’ve succeeded, yes! My venom has reached her brain! This Friday, she’ll collapse! She’ll be gone, and I’ll have Him in my arms again, and I’ll hold Him so tight and show Him how much I --

No, don’t get ahead of yourself. You don’t know what kind of video this will be. This might only be the beginning. Minds aren’t changed overnight. My lord may take time as well. Though this video still has to be something shocking - else she wouldn’t have added that bit about Him.

As the letter isn’t finished yet, I read on.

I’ll be eager to hear back from you once you’ve seen that video. I’d love to see you in person again, too, but that seems difficult to arrange for now. You see, Mr Anders (my manager) has been extra strict on who I’m allowed to see because of that one night and several ones before it. Fortunately, he’s still given me my privacy, allowing me to make that video in the first place.

Love,
Shirlee

P.S. We agreed to exchanging letters that night as you had no phone, but wouldn’t email or some chat be much faster? Let me know your address or accounts. Thanks!

Dammit, right, I’ll have to come up with some excuse for why I can’t use a computer. At least I have something to think while waiting for Friday, I guess. Two days away. Ugh, there’s so much waiting…

Guess I’ll go watch some TV or something.

---

16:56, Friday. I can’t believe it’s so close now. Two days ago it felt so distant. Now I’d even say it’s too soon. I’m so excited that I’ve gotten anxious.

I decide to give up trying to read my book, as my eyes only seem to skim the same page over and over again, never really absorbing what the text is saying. I do know the gist of it from previous reads, though. I’ve read Clinical Human Anatomy back to back many times. It’s my favorite of the anatomical books I own. Whether it’s actual quality or just nostalgia for the curiosity of my younger self, I can’t say.

I place the attached red sash on the current opening, shut the book and set it down on the bedside nightstand. I should probably bring it to my own room instead of having it here in the room of Fonz and my lord, but I’m too antsy for that right now. I don’t want to miss the upload by a second.

I get up and enter the living room. On the couch sit my lord and Fonz, both looking at His phone. The nidoking has his favorite leather jacket on again instead of the Shirlee shirt.

“Hi,” I greet the two mon, and both passingly greet me back. “What happened to the Shirlee shirt?”

“Oh, well,” starts Fonz, “after a close call a bit ago, We figured it’d be better if I only wore the Shirtlee in public. It’s less likely to get dirty that way.”

I hold a stare. “Did you just say ‘Shirtlee’?”

“Yeah, it’s what We call it.”

I sigh quietly and sit down at His other side. My heart beats faster… this is the closest I’ve been to Him in a while.

“Anything new about Shirlee, my lord?” I ask.

His eyes light up. “Oh! Oh! Yeah!” He taps on the screen, switching between apps and scrolling. He arrives at one with a blue-black environment - must be Chatter - and points to a snippet of text. I lean over to read it.

Shirlee @officialshirlee - 7m
Uploading a vid to my MewTube in 10 min on what I feel is an important topic. Stay tuned.

I check the top right corner of the phone screen. 16:57. Only three minutes until her destruction begins. Only three minutes until He learns His idol has betrayed Him. Only three minutes until this gash between Us finally begins to mend. This is real. This is my efforts paying off.

“He can already read all by Himself, Red,” remarks Fonz, smiling. “Aren’t you proud?”

“Oh?” Right, I should be supportive. “That’s great, my lord!” I say, patting Him on the back of His shell. It’s only a brief touch, but the sensation of shell’s texture relaxes my core. This is almost over. Just a little more.

“I’m gonna go to her MewTube now. Don’t wanna miss it,” He says, tapping more on the screen. The blue and black switch to pale red and white. A shadow of dread swoops over me, but leaves as soon as it came. It’s just a video service. Nothing is in danger.

Having made it to Shirlee’s channel, His tentacle drags down the screen repeatedly, apparently refreshing the page. “I wonder what that vid’s gonna be about...” He mumbles. He freezes. “Oh Gods, I hope nothing bad’s happened to her!”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” says Fonz and lays a comforting hand on His shell. “The wording of her chirp sounded more like she was going to talk about some general issue.”

“I guess...”

His suckers keep swiping the screen for the remaining minutes. Then, as the hour finally switches, a new video appears in the list. Its thumbnail is simply Shirlee against a featureless white background, looking serious. An Important Message, reads the title.

“That’s it!” He exclaims, and Fonz and I lean even closer. He taps the video to play and turns up the volume. While it loads, We all stay breathless.

The video begins with Shirlee’s tentacle reaching beyond the viewer, apparently turning on the camera. She floats further away, stares straight at Us and sighs.

“Even without her costumes, she’s so pretty...” whispers my lord to Himself. Ugh, she’s not that pretty. And she only looks good because she’s a cephalopod and it’s very hard to have a cephalopod that isn’t appealing. To me.

“Hello, everyone,” Shirlee finally starts, and I silence my brain. “I know this is an unusual video for me, but I‘ve been thinking about things and I sincerely feel like someone should speak up.”

So far not that aggressive… but that wouldn't be a great way to start a video, anyway. For her. For me it'd be great.

“I know a lot of you little stars of mine want to have fame and fortune like I do, but…”

Chills of doubt descend upon my back. She's being too calm. Too polite. Too subtle. He’s not going to get it. Fuck!

No, no, just hold on. Maybe it'll get better. She knows nothing will change unless she takes drastic action.

“...the truth is that we are all people. And people have feelings, dreams, doubts, problems. Whether human or mon, whichever gender or age or type.”

Oh my Gods. Cut it with the fortune cookie bullshit, will you, and get to ripping your fans new ones. How much is there left of this video? Seven minutes? Great.

I look at His eyes and find them to be firmly attached to the screen. Fonz is the same, though at least he appears to be emoting. Head tilting occasionally, corners of his lips shifting, he's actually considering her words. But it doesn't seem like the same can be said of Him.

Figures. His lack of critical thinking is what got me into this situation, and it's what keeps me from getting out of it.

My shoulders are already slumped and expectations null, but I keep watching. Shirlee goes on to talk about the harassment she and other idols she knows have gone through, how pressures are too high, how she doesn’t mean to belittle anyone else’s problems… yeah, this is just all the same. Nothing mindblowing is going to be said here.

What exactly did I expect? Her screaming into the camera about how everyone who’s supported her is a sack of shit and Him wiggling underneath my strong, protecting arm, away from the horrifying witch? I wish the part of me responsible for getting my hopes up would be a real human being so I could wrap my hands around his neck and strangle him for being so stupid. My hands seem to agree, given the tendons and veins rising in the skin…

I force them to relax. I don’t want Fonz or Him to notice my rage. They may ask questions and right now, I don’t feel like answering any.

The meter at the bottom of the video is nearly full. By now, I’m just tired. Tired of being continuously reminded of what an idiot I am.

Her coming here out of nowhere, drunk and wanting my comfort… I should've known the opportunity was too good to be true. Of course, in the light of day, she would mold all my ideas to fit in with her career, dulling the corners in the process. I was blinded by my optimism and arrogance. I can't let that happen again. I have to be patient, patient like I originally planned to be.

I mean, I’m talking to the girl privately, and she's listening. I can still affect her. I just have to find the right way to do it. Until then… I still need to bear His eyes being lifeless and away from me.

Finally, the video ends. Fonz straightens his neck. My lord blinks. That's a start.

“Well, that I didn't expect,” Fonz mumbles. “But she had some good points, I guess. Wonder what made her say all this out of the blue.”

“Yeah, it’s weird,” I say and get up. I should go write my letter now that her video is still fresh in my memory.

“So what did you think?” Fonz asks my lord as I walk to the basement door.

“She’s so smart...” He sighs.

I sigh too.

---

In my letter, I told Shirlee how proud I was of her handling the situation so elegantly and also bringing up a lot of other important points, blah blah blah, all that shit. How I couldn’t have said it better myself and so on. I did still remark on how I expected her to be a bit more aggressive, though - gotta stay consistent, you know.

I also managed to excuse my aversion to computer-based communication by blaming Jess. I explained that he didn’t let me use the computer when he was over. She doesn’t know Jess, so she can’t say that doesn’t sound possible - not that it would be that far from the truth, anyway.

Shirlee soon sent another letter, and this is what it said.

Dear Red

I’m so glad you liked the video. I still feel a rush for making it - all of this feels unreal. Just a few days ago I never could have imagined doing something so drastic and out of line, and now here we are. And I don't regret a thing.

It's been pretty chaotic here after that video dropped. My manager was naturally outraged at first, but as the reactions from the public came in, he saw it was only beneficial - no such thing as bad publicity, as they say. Now everyone is already planning and suggesting “the next move”, but I’ve gained enough confidence to be certain that from now on, I really will be the one calling the shots.

All of this change for the better… you're the one who kickstarted it, and I am so grateful. I want to show it to you in person. My manager has agreed to let me see you on Monday at the Celadon Hotel where I’ll be staying. Someone would be picking you up at 5 pm at your house. If you can't be there then, please leave a note for them telling so. We can figure something out later.

However, I do hope you can come at that appointed time. I have a bit of a surprise for you and I can't wait for you to find out.

Love,
Shirlee

So I’ll be seeing her face to face again. She won’t be wasted this time - I mean, I’m assuming she won’t be - so I need to watch my behavior more lest she realize I’m her enemy. But it’s also a great opportunity. Talking in person is far more powerful than simply via text.

However, I’m not perfectly sure what direction I should steer her in. Her becoming more assertive with her crew is good, but the lies I told her are closer to the truth than I thought - they’d need far more abuse to drop a money miltank like her. If her value plummeted, however, they’d abandon ship and skitter off like rattata. And even if my lord still stuck with her, she couldn’t produce any more content with her resources gone. His attention would be freed, and He’d notice me once more. I’d consider that a success.

I’m not a businessman, however, and I’m rather ignorant of current affairs and trends. I need some help in deciding the proper poison for her. Good thing I know just the person to ask.

Unfortunately it has to be Jess.

I sigh and open the door to his room.

The pidgeot sits on the saddle-chair on his desk as usual, doing whatever people do on their computers. Having noticed my arrival, he swivels around in his saddle-chair, a smirk on his beak. He brings his wings before him, touching the tips of the feathers together. “So you have come to me again.”

I answer his sly stare with an unimpressed one. “Yes. I have.”

“I take it you need help with some internet stuff again?” he asks. “What is it, champ? You wanna be hip with the kids?”

I shut the door behind me, ignoring his snark. Let’s just get to the point.

I clear my throat. "So, I was wondering something... say if someone like Shirlee were to make some poor decision or mistake that would ruin her career and popularity. What kind of action would that be?"

Without even a blink, he responds. “Anything racist, sexist or typist whatsoever.”

Oh. That was quick.

“Don’t forget homophobia,” he adds. “Or transphobia. Anything discriminatory, basically.”

I rub my chin. “It’s that easy?”

“Well… define ‘easy’,” he says, directing his gaze at the ceiling and scraping at the desk with a talon. I notice only now that there’s a bunch of scratch marks in the wood. I guess he does that a lot.

He looks back to me. “I mean, most celebs are really careful about saying anything that might get them in trouble. In case of Shirlee, I can’t imagine her saying anything discriminatory - especially with that vid she posted recently - though I’ve been surprised before.”

Hmm. So if I could get Shirlee to say something socially wrong and have the public see it, her career would be destroyed?

“What group do you think Shirlee might have a poor opinion of?” I ask.

Jess lowers his brow. “Why are you asking this?”

“Just curious,” I reply. “I’ve realized I know way too little about the world around me.”

He lies down on his chair - as much as a bird can. “And finding out how pop stars’ careers get ruined is your best way of doing this?”

“It’s… one among many.”

He huffs. “Come on, dude, drop the act. I can tell you’re upset about Helix caring so much about Shirlee. You’re clearly planning something.”

Dammit. I wanted to be stealthy about this in case I end up doing something legally questionable after all.

He slides off his chair and flits to a branch of the plastic tree next to me. “Red, let’s talk,” he sighs, golden eyes sincere. “This is kinda worrying.”

“What’s worrying?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I know.

“Just how...” he searches for a word. “Well, clingy you are with Helix.”

Uh huh, this lecture again. I find my arms crossing themselves.

“I know I don’t see you a lot, but from what I do see, it’s not good,” he continues. “And now it feels like it’s even worse than before. You just seem… really on edge. It’s a bad state to be in for long periods of time, don’t you think?”

“I think you should focus on your own life,” I mutter.

He raises his wings. “Dude, just hear me out, okay? I’m trying to tell you that it’s better for both you and Him if you learn to leave some space. Find other things, other people. You’ll have more to your life, you’ll be happier, and you won’t be so dependent on His attention.”

Ugh. The ‘find new hobbies’ argument. There just isn’t anything I want to do right now. Nothing makes me feel fulfilled outside taking care of Him. And serving HIM… but I already limit my contact there, and for good reason. HE wishes not to be disturbed outside the context of rituals or other important things, and I need to have a cooldown between my hunts. Cops exist, you know.

“You needing Helix so much...” Jess says. His voice is quieter now, why? “It’s a bit like… you’re still stuck in the journey days.”

...That does it.

Without a word, I turn around and exit the room.

“Red, please,” he calls after me. “Stay and we’ll talk about th-”

Shutting the door behind me cuts him off. I descend the stairs without looking back.

---

Alright. It’s finally Monday, finally nearing five in the afternoon. Somehow I’ve managed to survive the previous days, and this is my reward.

I button up my pale blue shirt. Been a while since I’ve worn one of these. I figured I should try to look neat for that hotel, as it must be pretty high-end enough to qualify for a pop star.

After a few more strokes of a comb through my hair, the man in the mirror looks sufficiently groomed. I check the watch looped around my bandaged wrist. Just in time.

I leave the bathroom and descend the stairs. From his armchair, Fonz spots me.

“Is that limo out there for you?” he asks, tilting his head towards the windows.

Limo?

I hurry to the window and look out to the street. A lengthy black car sits by the driveway, shining with faint orange from the twilight. Huh. Guess it does make sense for the ride to be fancy.

“Yeah,” I reply passingly to Fonz as I move to the hall and get my coat. Dammit, I’ll need to come up with an explanation for this, won't I.

“So… what's up with that?”

“Well, I met somebody at the grocery store the other day and we hit it off and...” I throw on my coat and put on some gloves. “We’re hanging out now. It’s nothing special.”

“I can’t remember the last time you’ve ‘hung out’ with anyone… is there something you’re not telling Us?”

Why are you dragging Him into this? “No, it’s like I told you - just a friend.” I open the door, chilly air flooding in. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. See You then.”

I exit the house, descend the doorsteps and head towards the limousine. The driver’s side door opens, and a bearded Unovan steps out.

“Red Akai?” the man asks, circling the car and opening the door to the backseat.

“That’s me,” I reply and almost make it to the door, but the man raises a startled hand, eyes widening.

“What’s that on your lap, pal?”

I look at the leather scabbard attached to my belt. “My knife,” I respond, keeping my tone casual even if I now realize he won’t let me take it with me. “I always have it with me. It’s for self-defense. Wild ursas and so.”

“You expect to meet a lot of wild ursas at the Celadon Hotel?”

I sigh. “Guess not.”

I briefly return to the house to drop off my knife. To get Fonz off my back, I explain that my friend didn’t like me having it. Before the nidoking can properly respond, I’m already back outside.

“Are we cool now?” I ask the chauffeur.

“Of course we are. It’s winter.” A grin flashes among his brown, curly beard. “Alright, get in.”

I shuffle onto the roomy backseat coated with white leather. Faux, I’m guessing, as everything is nowadays. How we’ve forgotten our roots.

Besides that, it’s rather comfy. It has an armrest and everything. Above me is a window, covered, probably because there’s not much to see up there at the time. All surfaces look clean, it’s not too hot or cold and the air smells fresh enough. I’d say I’m quite fine with spending the next hour in here.

The driver closes my door and enters his. I locate the seatbelt and fasten it.

“I see you’re a good boy,” quips the driver, yet another smile on his bush of a face. “Want something to drink?”

“No, I’m good.” I don’t want to throw up from your awful jokes.

“Gotcha. Let’s move, then.”

The car starts and the tires begin to roll. I lean back in my seat, watching my house and neighborhood swipe past. The sights soon switch to less familiar ones, eventually degrading into a highway surrounded by only woods and plains. All coated in white - or gray, at this hour.

“So,” starts the driver, breaking the monotonous hum. “How do you know Ms Tanner?“

Ms Tanner…? Oh, right, Shirlee’s real name. “I’m a friend of hers.”

“Old one or new one?”

I give him a stern look via the rear-view mirror. “I don’t see how that concerns you.”

“Not much of a sharer, I see...”

He exhales. The hum regains its spot as the main noise. Unfortunately, I can already tell that won’t last.

“You see that video Ms Tanner put up the other day?” he begins again, proving me right. “Stirred things up a lot for us employees. Even me, and I just drive the car.”

I stay silent, hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Seems like the public liked it a lot, though. At the very least it got people talking.”

Yeah, I’m guessing it did. It probably got them talking about how important these issues are and how brave Shirlee was for speaking up. Brave and strong.

But she isn’t strong. Strong is swinging a wrench at a marowak’s skull and piercing the brain. None of these people would know what that would feel like. They cower at the mere sight of a knife, a sheathed one no less.

I suppose it’s only a good thing, though. Less competition. Easier prey. Still, I wish I could meet someone who was strong like me, shared my way of thinking. In a safe environment. Or maybe not even that…

I reach for my knife, but groan as I remember it’s not there. I’ll need to wait a few hours before I can play with it again. Once again, the key word is patience.

Time passes, and buildings begin to appear among the trees outside. I check the time. It's been about fifty minutes. Shouldn’t be too long now.

I sigh. This ride may be almost over, but it’s probably the easiest part of this visit. I’ll need to act friendly to Shirlee and her crew while trying to fish any offensive opinions or other weaknesses out of her for later exploitation. All without my trusted knife by my side to calm me down. And she has some ‘surprise’ in mind, no doubt something I’ll hate. I already feel tired.

Well, maybe it won’t be that bad. She might take me out to eat some good food. This limousine is pretty neat - she must surround herself with the same kind of luxury, and she’s obligated to share, given we’re friends. And she owes me for that one night, anyway.

Eventually the car reaches the center of Celadon City. The city of the rainbow’s colors - in summer. In winter, it's really just another monochrome painting with smears of mud here and there.

“Alright, we're almost here…” mumbles the driver. “Just a couple more turns and you'll be rid of me.” Good. “Until Ms Tanner sends you back, of course.” Oh.

We turn a corner, and a blotch of brilliant light reveals itself. My eyes widen in surprise, then narrow to make sense of the sudden break in dullness. Every new turn reveals more details.

A tall building with strips of windows slithering along its walls shines gold and green in the darkening evening. Behind the glass grow verdant leaves of all shapes and sizes, all the way up to the roof, which appears to be wholly dedicated to the plants.

As we make another turn - one I realize to be the final - the entrance to the building shows itself. Through large glass doors, well-dressed people are arriving and leaving, a fancy-looking mon or two in the mix. In glowing capital letters above the door, the giant structure is named.

“Celadon Hotel,” announces the driver, slowing the vehicle to a halt. “And what a hotel it is. You ever been here before, boy?”

In Celadon, yes, but this side of town… “No.”

“Well, have fun while you can,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the car. I follow suit.

The driver hurries over to me, glances around the entrance for something and finally stops, smiling. A large black-and-white figure has appeared behind the doors. The driver waves his hand, catching the figure’s attention. Its black, beady eyes stick onto us and don’t leave their target once as it exits the doors and plods towards us.

The figure appears to be… a polar ursaring? No, it doesn’t quite match up with the polar ursaring I’ve seen in documentaries… I mean, even outside the black suit it’s wearing. Its muzzle is longer and surrounded by some peculiar type of fur… no, I don’t think that’s fur. It’s frost. This must be some species I don’t know.

“Evening,” greets the driver as the mon gets close enough.

“Evening,” the mon echoes back in a gruff voice, visible puffs of breath leaving its maw. It stops, towering over me with its height of two meters and more. “You’re Red Akai?”

I nod, heart beating harder. My fingers reach again for the knife that isn’t there. I trap them in a fist and try to suppress my primal reaction.

“I am Arktos,” the mon speaks. “Follow me, please.”

Arktos begins to walk back to the entrance and I cautiously follow, leaving the driver to enter the limousine again and drive off. The glass doors slide to allow us in, and the cold outside is left behind.

I feel like backing out has now officially stopped being an option.

---

 

[canisaries]

why is arktos my favorite character he barely appears

anyway chapta faiyve, was gonna have more content but it got too long so i split it. i hope it didn't end up too empty. still teen, but someone's violent tendencies are building up... enjoy

---

CHAPTER 5
Lust for Blood and Prawns

---
​

The lobby of Celadon Hotel is a lot more elegant than one would expect from its sleek, modern exterior. The floor below is spotless and outstandingly shiny despite its humble, organic material of beige wood. Must be very durable, too, if mon like the two-meter-tall bear I’m following are allowed in - any normal floor would show more signs of wear from their heavy stomps and strong claws.

Cuboid pillars flank the main pathway of the room, rising all the way up to the high, white ceiling. The pillars are painted white as well, but the front planes mostly glow a brilliant green from the lush vines and leaves covering them. Chairs and tables of wood and leaf-green fabric are scattered near the also-white walls, a few of them occupied by stylishly clothed men and women in conversation or on their phones. The bubbling of a fountain can be heard in the air, but I can’t find any water in the room, meaning it either resides elsewhere or the noise is just on playback.

I don’t get to take the room’s atmosphere for long, though, as the white bear lumbers onward. His stern glances over his suit-covered shoulder make sure I’m not straying. Not that I would dream of it. With those gargantuan paws armed with curved, black claws several centimeters long, the mon would likely shatter my entire shoulder girdle were he to grab me.

“This way,” says the mon in his deep voice and makes a sharp turn for the elevator. We enter through its tan wooden doors as another passenger exits. The inside of the elevator provides yet another style change as the shaft's walls more resemble the exterior of the building. More greenhouse-tunnels climb up along it and weave between the darker wall tiles like angular, leafy millipedes. The mon pokes the button for the ninth floor. As the doors close, they encase us in a brief silence, which then leads to a hum and upward acceleration.

I study my travel companion. Arktos was his name. At least I'm guessing it’s a he - with an unknown mon, I can’t be sure. His paws rest at his sides and his eyes stick to the elevator’s meter, inching up with every new floor. The beard of frost on his muzzle and neck glitters in the changing lighting, the tiny crystals reflecting the rays in pastel colors. It’s clear that he’s an ice type, but does he have a secondary type? I can’t see through that suit, but he seems quite muscular. Fighting? Or dark? He’s rather intimidating.

Intimidating… surely an apex predator in the wild. Did I tempt fate during the ride here when I wished to someday meet someone like that? Naturally not, as there’s no such thing as fate, but I can’t deny what an interesting coincidence this is…

Arktos’s eyes flick to me, halting my respiration mid-breath.

“You appear to be staring at me,” he says, powerful teeth flashing between his black lips.

I jerk my head away. “Sorry,” I mumble. My heart contracts more wildly. My knife hand is twitching. My instincts are whispering at me to bolt. But I know he won’t do anything, he can’t. This response is ancient, from a time before society, law, safety. For him to be able to evoke this reaction… he truly is a predator. My equal.

“You haven’t met a beartic before, have you?”

Beartic? I overpower my fear and glance back. He doesn’t sound threatening. My pulse lets itself slow down somewhat.

“That’s understandable,” Arktos continues. “My wild cousins don’t live in the Tohjo area, even if the winters are nice and cold here. Never happened to wander here, I suppose.”

The elevator slows to a stop and dings. We exit into a hall from which two long corridors originate, wooden doors marked with golden numbers peppered throughout the walls of both. The wall ahead of us is glass, showcasing the dimming city outside. It’s like a starry sky far below instead of above. We’re quite high up.

Arktos leads me to the left corridor and past its numerous doors until he stops before the one numbered 931. He curls a paw into a fist and lightly knocks four times.

“Who is it?” calls out a familiar voice - Shirlee. A cartoonishly unsubtle attempt at allure is embedded in her tone.

“Your guest is here, Ms Tanner,” the beartic responds.

“Coming,” the inkay coos. A buzz appears in my left wrist. The seal is reacting to her telekinesis again. I’ll have to live with it patching in and out for the duration of our meet.

The door opens, showing the big star herself. But she's different from the night at my house, all dressed up in… I have no idea what that headpiece looking thing covering her mantle and draping down behind her is called. I can only say that it's silky and deep red and assumably helps hide her identity by concealing her signature star marking and three-pronged head fin.

Her accessories are easier to process, at least. Bracelets of thin golden chains loop around the ‘wrists’ of her longer tentacles, as someone unfamiliar with mollusks would call them. I guess this is what squid fashion is.

“Red! It's so great to see you!” she cheers, floating back to give us space. Arktos gestures me to enter, and I do.

“It's great to see you too,” I reply, unable to come up with anything creative in time. My lips ache at the smile I force. Yeah, well, get used to it.

The door closes behind me. Arktos has left us alone. Good - he can't stop me from executing any plan I may come up with.

“Please, have a seat,” Shirlee says, hovering over to the off-white couch in the corner.

I thank her and do as asked, watching my shins as I shuffle them between the couch and the fine wooden table. The cushions are quite firm. I guess they prioritized the look when designing it.

I survey the hotel room, though don't get very far before something hogs my gaze completely - a water tank tall enough to fit a human. A powerhead attached hums at its top, and a filter lies at the bottom, but I can't tell what the harness-type object hanging beside it is for. Petals of rose float on the surface of the water, drifting in the gentle currents and fluttering faintly at the air bubbles escaping from beneath. Fancy.

This must be her bed, meaning inkay prefer to sleep in water as well. At least this one does.

“So,” starts Shirlee, tentacles twirling together, “like I said, I have a surprise for you. Wait here!”

I nod and she floats off to another room. The buzzing in my wrist softens, but strengthens again as the inkay returns, holding a plain white box with her tentacles. What could be in it? I don't think it’d make sense for her to get me jewelry this soon. Do women even get men jewelry? I’ve never seen it on TV, at least. Jewelry is nice, though. Kohath had jewelry…

“Go ahead, open it!” she urges as she places the box on the table and slides it to me. I guess I have to accept this surprise.

Slowly, I grab and lift the lid of the box. Inside lies... a charger, a pair of earbuds and a black, shiny rectangle. A smartphone. A phone…?

“For me?” I ask.

“Yeah! Isn't it great?” Shirlee gushes. “Now we can keep in touch so much better! And, well, your life in general will be so much more convenient too, as you'll have the internet wherever you go! We already got all the SIMs and plans and whatnot, so don't worry about those. Details are on here.” She points to a piece of paper in the box, one I didn't notice on my initial look. I guess I’ll ask someone at home about that.

But I… I can’t use this. But she’s going to make me use this, isn't she? Force me to… trigger those memories again?

“...Is something wrong?” she asks, cheer dropping. Oh shit, I can't be looking glum now.

“Oh, no, no,” I laugh, “I was just… surprised, that's all. This is a lot to do for someone…”

“Nah, it was nothing - I have a whole crew, remember? And nothing's too much for you, given how you've helped me.” She winks. People actually do that?

“Anyway,” she continues, grabbing the lid with telekinesis and setting it back on the box, “we can get back to this later. Right now, we ought to get going - we have a reservation at the restaurant around the corner.”

As soon as floats off to get her purse, I can sigh in relief. I won’t have to use the phone. Not yet, anyway… will I have to once we get back?

Well, that means I’ll have to get as much use out of that restaurant visit as I can. Once we come back, I’ll have to use a lot of my energy just not to flip the fuck out.

Oh Gods, I’ve been quiet and still for an awfully long time. I better say something.

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” I ask, getting up and quickly away from that evil box. “What kind of restaurant is it?”

“Just a general one, I guess,” she replies, zooming to the door. “I didn't know if you had any special preferences, so I went with the safe option.” Her tentacles wriggle in excitement. “Another problem that'll be gone when I can just text you! Don't you just love technology?”

Gods no, I think as I force myself to nod. But I am interested in that restaurant. I expect the food to be of high quality, and I’ve been getting somewhat hungry, anyway. Not to mention people put their guard down when dining. I'll be more likely to get new information out of her, hopefully something I can use to bring her down.

“Well, here we go!” Shirlee chimes as she opens the door. I follow her closely as she floats out, though give the white box on the table one last glance before the door is closed. No, it’s alright. I’ll worry about it then. Right now, I should make the most of what I have.

Right outside stands Arktos, apparently having stayed in guard of the door this whole time. There’s something new in his dark eyes. Worry?

“Ms Tanner?” the beartic says, stepping closer.

The inkay’s attention almost goes uncaught, but after a second, the words pierce through her haze of thoughts. She turns to Arktos with an inquisitive hum.

Arktos clasps his paws together. “Are you sure going without an escort is a good idea?”

Shirlee’s smaller tentacles curl. I recognize the gesture as one of irritation, then realize that I must be quite a rarity among humans for knowing this body language so well. Something to be proud of, I suppose, though some would argue I shouldn't get any prouder than I already am.

"I'll be fine," she replies, inner indignance leaking into the voice. "I'm psychic, and no one would dare try anything in the middle of Celadon. And, besides…"

A cold, wet touch at my hand makes me flinch. I glance down and see the club of her tentacle pressing against it.

If only for a split second, it felt like I was with Him again.

"I do have an escort, don't I?" she coos.

Arktos grunts and shoots me freezing glare. "He's among the people I'm worried about…"

Now it's Shirlee's turn to grunt. "We'll be fine," she says, slips her club onto my palm and pulls me away with the added help of her suction cups. I follow without protest, eager to get away from the suspicious bear as well.

Arktos sighs heavily. "Alright then, Ms Tanner. I'll stay in watch of your room while you're away."

"Good," chirps Shirlee and detaches her suckers from me, but keeps her club where it is. I don't know if I'm expected to answer her grab. What message would that send? I want to be close to her, but I don't want to imply romantic interest when she wouldn't share it.

Unless she… oh no.

Once we reach the elevator, she flinches and withdraws her club. "Oh, sorry," she says. "I should've asked first."

"N-no, it's alright," I reply almost automatically. I guess I'm getting used to this whole 'being agreeable' thing.

She presses the button for the elevator and turns to me properly. "Sorry about Arktos, too," she adds, tentacles clasped. "It's his job to be suspicious of people. Please don't take it personally."

"It's fine, I understand."

She's apologetic... I suppose that's good news. It means she doesn't consider me indebted to her. And she shouldn't, even after that gift she got me. I didn't ask for it, I didn't want it. My kind words and hospitality I knew were wanted, while that phone is the exact opposite --

No, no, forget about the phone for now. You need to focus on Shirlee, remember? Get all you can out of this while you still can.

The elevator arrives, and we enter. With the hums of the closing doors and our descent providing cover, I take deep breaths. You can do this. Things are gonna go just fine.


---

“Ah, warmth!” she sighs as we finally step through the door of the restaurant. Already forgot its name. It was something Kalosian, I think.

But never mind that - what the hell are you doing, sighing about warmth? You’ve been warm for nearly the whole way here, unlike the unfortunate soul who had to give you his coat because you wouldn’t stop dropping hints about how cold you were. If you’d only taken your own coat, my skin wouldn’t be burning with a freezing flame right now, but noooooo, you wanted to take your purse because it went with your jewelry and it didn’t go with any coat you had there. You said it was alright as the restaurant was only a quick walk away and I, the fool, believed you, only to find out you’d vastly underestimated the distance because you usually only went there with a car. And you didn’t want the car this time because you thought the evening and the city were so pretty tonight and the moonroof of the limo didn’t show enough.

And for the final kick in the nuts, you acknowledged all these things with a laugh, like that would make it all okay and just a little funny joke. Good thing the winter was there to literally cool my head.

At least we’re finally here. I’ll get the food I deserve, and she can’t talk with her beak full. Unless she’s one of those people. Dear Gods, don’t let her be one of those people.

“Good evening,” Shirlee says, and I snap out of my thoughts. She’s talking to the woman behind the counter, who I’m guessing is the receptionist. I glance at the coat rack and see mine hanging there.

“I’m Shirley Tanner, though you probably already knew that,” Shirlee continues, smiling. “My date and I have a reservation.”

“Yes, of course. Right this way,” responds the woman, standing up and beginning to walk. I hurry over to Shirlee, who’s already gesturing me to follow.

The woman leads us to a table for two not too far away. She asks us if the table is to our liking. I nod to Shirlee, not that she notices, as she affirms right away. The woman tells us a waitress will arrive shortly and leaves us to seat ourselves.

Now that we’re alone, I could ask a thing I’m at least a little curious about.

“You used your real name?” I ask quietly as I sit down. “I thought celebrities like you liked to use pseudonyms.”

“Elsewhere, yeah, but here it isn’t necessary,” replies Shirlee with a dismissing wave of her tentacle, its bracelet gleaming in the chandeliers’ light. “This place is a hive for celebs.” She swivels around, searching the room with her gaze, then stops at a certain direction, eyes wide. “Woah, like him!”

I squint my eyes, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary, but fail. The walls are velvety red with dark wooden paneling on the lower parts and the floor seems to be made of that same wood. Small chandeliers hang from the ceiling, illuminating the furniture below - the chairs with swirling carvings and the tables with tablecloths white like fresh snow. Most of the tables are full with people as fancy as the ones in Celadon Hotel, enjoying their colorful meals or patiently waiting for them. I scan each of their faces, but find none I would recognize.

I give up. “Who?”

“Can’t you see him? Oswin Lyndon! Right there!” She points as hard as one can while still managing to stay relatively inconspicuous. I think she means the wide-nosed bald Unovan guy in the blue suit.

“Who’s that?”

“You know, Oddish Boy?”

“Uhh...” What the hell kind of name is that?

“You don’t know who Oddish Boy is?” Shirlee hisses in disbelief, though covers her beak right after, having realized her volume. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t know Oddish Boy,” she adds in a softer tone.

A tick of unease skitters on the back of my brain. It’s true that I don’t keep up with the latest celebrities or even the older ones, and that could be a problem. If I appear too unordinary, she’ll get suspicious of me. Why would someone not in the loop of the current trends become such a big fan of a pop star? She’d look more into my background and find out all kinds of things - my journey with the Twitch, my skipping and later dropping out of high school, my bond with my lord, and possibly even my… oh Gods, I definitely can’t let her think I’m abnormal. Who knows how deep those private investigators can dig.

“S-so who is Oddish Boy?” I blurt. I need to find out how big my mistake is.

“A rapper. Like, a really big one.”

Oh, thank the Gods. No one important.

“That explains it, then,” I laugh. “I don’t listen to rap much.”

“That’s still odd… he has several hits, playing on just about every station.”

“Haven’t listened to the radio in a bit, either. Computer’s been occupied, I’ve had no phone and no car and all that...”

Shirlee beams. “Well, it’s good that now you have a phone, then. You can find out about all the musicians that way. And hear more of my songs, too!” Gods no...

Her face abruptly loses its joy. “Oh, right.” She looks down at the menu before her. “We should probably decide what we’re gonna get before the waitress comes,” she says, levitating the dark crimson paper and returning the buzz to my wrist, not that I’d noticed it had left.

True, I should pick my meal. Finally she’s right about something.

I open my own menu and skim through my options. Onion soup, cheese plate, lentils, tamato stew, snails, mushroom steak… no mon meat to be seen. Damn, I guess I won’t be trying anything actually rare then.

There’s no way this restaurant couldn’t afford mon meat if they wanted to buy it. Its absence must be because of ideological reasons. Ugh. It doesn't matter if it's from a savage wild mon or a mon dead from natural causes. It doesn't even matter if it’s a slowpoke’s tail painlessly cut off - people just keep saying it's immoral and despicable. Yet, for a wild mon, it's perfectly natural to maul and eat a human…

But what else can I expect from the human race? As soon as they received non-stop shelter, safety and food, they begun to worry about all kinds of non-issues - rights of the poor and weak, rights of mon, equality for all… it makes me sick. Only a few beings are like me, unbridled by feelings of pity or guilt. We are the ones truly strong, yet the blind continue to rule. We are the ones who remember our roots and the fact that this civilization was built by humans, not mon. If mon truly were our equals, they'd have been the ones to craft the first kingdom.

No need to waste time dwelling on that, though. In due time, HE will merge with me and return the world to its rightful state. When that day comes, I will feed on anything and anyone I want.

“Picked anything yet?” Shirlee’s voice asks, bursting my thought bubble. I look up and see her staring at me, her menu closed on the table already.

“Uhh…” I speed through my options again. “I think I’ll have the prawns.” Because it’s flesh, it isn't snails and I’m okay with prawns. My lord likes them far more than me, though.

“Me too!” she laughs. “I guess it’s kind of a cephalopod thing...”

Please, you hardly count. I haven’t seen you swim even once and you barely use your tentacles for anything.

Soon after, the waitress arrives, asking if we’re ready to order. Yes, prawns for both, Shirlee tells her. Appetizers? Shirlee declines, says we only have limited time. What would we like to drink?

“Grepa wine for me, and, uhh…” Shirlee stops to stare at me. “How old were you again? Are you allowed to drink alcohol?”

“Eighteen. So I could, but I don't really want to.”

“So, like… soda for you, then, or --"

“Water. Just water. Please.” I may be from Pallet Town, but I’m not going to order a common soda from a high-end restaurant.

“Alright, anything else?” chirps the waitress, and upon receiving a negative answer, heads off.

“So,” begins Shirlee, leaning on her suckers, “you said that one night you'd like to know more about me… does that still stand?”

Well, it must. “Of course,” I reply, smiling. I hope she says something useful soon so that I can tune out and start working on a plan as fast as possible.

“Well… I’ll start from the beginning, then.” She clears her throat. “As you probably know, I grew up on a kelp farm at Undella Bay…”

With those words begun a grand, riveting adventure through the life and times of Shirley Tanner. Or so it would have probably been if I’d actually cared. I tried to, Gods did I try - for my lord’s sake - but all I got out of her stories was a sharp, stinging deja vu. I’d been disappointed in the exact same way as I was when watching that video of hers.

I could try to track down any of the childhood friends she's mentioned and use their influence to have her make a career-ruining style change, but I can't visualize a scenario of that actually working. My lord is likely so attached to her by now that He’d listen to anything she'd put out, rendering that whole feat useless.

However… I guess I do know one aspect of her that may be used against her. Drinking. She hasn't gotten to that part yet, though. She’s still talking about her childhood, more accurately her teenage years - or the years that correspond to those in an inkay’s life cycle.

How long have I been here now? An urge to check my watch comes, but I have to suppress it. I can't do that in front of Shirlee. She's supposed to think I’m interested.

I let my eyes wander around the table instead. Napkins, water pitcher, plates, glasses, forks, knives… knife… touch the knife.

I’m unable to stop my right hand before it complies. The loss of control is troubling, but the metal of the blade… smooth, shiny, strong. Feel the edge. It's serrated, formed to saw through the most stringy of materials. The dips and points are like waves of a steely sea… the demise of any seafarer. Feel the handle. The handle is wood, silky and dark like a swellow’s feather. Grab it. With pleasure… it fits in my palm so perfectly. Now, stab her.

...No. I can’t do that.

Why not? You’d get rid of her so fast, and don’t tell me you don’t want to do it...

Murder is illegal. There are plenty of witnesses here. How many times do I have to tell you this?

Then take her somewhere private and do it there.

If I could do that, don’t you think I would have done it already? Actions have consequences, you brain-damaged primeape. I thought you would’ve learned your lesson back when the inkay was at our house. That was already too close a call...

Actions have consequences, yes… like how shoving that knife into her pink, fleshy mantle and tearing it open would cause all kinds of organs and fluids to leak out. Mollusks have blue blood, you know… it’d be pretty exotic...

Stop. Stop putting those images in my head. They’re bad. You’re going to get me in trouble. Us both. You don’t want to get locked up any more than I do.

So what are you going to do, then? Stay here, nodding like a bobblehead as this waste of living tissue vomits her memoirs directly into your ear canals?

Yes. And I’m going to do a great job at it. Just to piss you off. Now leave, I want to think about how great the prawns are going to be instead.

They’re just going to suck and you know it.

I imagine a black satin sack and shove it on the urging voice’s head. Whatever he tries to say is too muffled for me to hear or consider. I pull my hand away from the knife and place it on my lap. As a reward for overcoming my more primal side, I allow myself a quick peek at the watch on my wrist. I now know the time, but… I didn’t check it before, so it doesn’t tell me much of anything.

Motion appears at the corner of my vision, which turns out to be the waitress carrying two plates and a bottle. Thank Arceus, even if he had nothing to do with this as he is only a fraud.

“Prawns for two,” announces the waitress as she arrives, shutting up Shirlee at least momentarily. She sets the plates on the table - oh, those prawns look and smell so good - and pours Shirlee a glass of the clear, yellowish liquid. The inkay seems delighted by what's been put in front of her as well, nodding and thanking.

“Bon appétit,” the waitress says and leaves.

Oh my Gods, yes, finally. The prize for my patience. See, primal side? It pays off.

Those prawns aren't going to last forever.

Alright, I’m putting the bag back on.

I grab the fork and knife, free of the urge to stab from before. I dig the prongs of the fork into a beautiful, magikarp-orange prawn, some of its juice oozing out from below. Yes, this is good. This is great!

I sigh in contentment. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

...Right. The phone.

Ugh.

---

 

[canisaries]

hello all and welcome back to red's TWISTED MIND. here is chapter 6. still rated teen. language and implied heavy violence in this.

---

CHAPTER 6
I Celadon't Want to Be Here

---​

“Man, it feels so good to drink without having to show a license or ask some guy on the street to buy me some…” Shirlee sighs. Arktos opens the door to her room and, like before, stays outside as we enter.

The door closed behind us, Shirlee claps her tentacles together. “Alright! Now you can start up your phone!” She floats over to the couch and plops down, eyes on me and waiting.

I stare at the white box resting on the table, just where we left it. It gets harder to breathe.

Do I have to do this? Couldn’t I just do this at home with the help of Abe or Fonz or even Jess? They know the issues I have and give me my space. But what could I say to her? I’m supposed to be normal. A phobia of screens and interfaces in this era is anything but that.

Okay, okay, okay. Maybe it won’t be that bad. Luck can sometimes favor me, too. Like it did with the prawns at the restaurant. They were fantastic. Yeah, everything is fine. It's going to go just swell.

I skitter to the couch and seat myself, mouth in a tense smile. I grab the lid of the box and lift it… stop shaking, hands, stop shaking.

“Whoa, you seem kinda shaky. Are you alright?” asks Shirlee. Dammit.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, I’m just… slowly realizing what's happening,” I respond. “I mean, I just had dinner with the Shirlee, and now I’m getting a phone from her. You.”

“Oh, okay,” she laughs. “There’s no need to be stressed, though. Like I said in my vid, I’m just a person. And you're doing great, anyway!”

I force a chuckle. It comes out pretty nervous, but I suppose that only helps my narrative.

After a second or two of gathering my courage, I yank off the lid fully and place it aside. The black rectangle nested between cords of different grays stares back, soulless. Wary of anything suddenly flashing on the screen, I lift it up and bring it to my lap. Nothing yet.

“So… how do you turn it on?” I ask.

“The same as your last phone, probably.” She pauses. “Or… when did you last have a phone?”

“Uhh...” I only remember the phone I had as a kid, from a time before smartphones had spread like a pandemic. Man, I liked those old phones. Small screens, nothing like computers, could use ‘em with your gloves on. They should come back.

Oh, shit, right. The conversation. “I’m not sure… some years ago, I guess.”

“Well, anyway,” Shirlee starts and takes the phone, “you hold this button at the side until it lights up, like...” The device vibrates briefly, and a white icon appears in the middle of the screen - a stylized silhouette of a leppa berry. “This.”

She returns the phone to my hands, which I wish she didn’t, but I guess I can’t do anything but go along with this.

The screen lights up. It’s white. Oh Gods. No, no, you’ve got this. It won’t be like back then. That’s all behind you. You’re safe. A word appears. It’s black. Hello. See? The PCs never did that.

A grid appears, of numbers. Boxes of numbers. Boxes. White. Enter the passcode. Enter the password to access the… t-the…

“Oh, it’s just… four-five, let me… that.” Shirlee’s speaking. I hear her words, but her words are unclear.

Covered! Screen covered. I’m back. I’m back here again. Close your eyes. I’m back here. Come to your senses. Shirlee’s pressing on the screen. Why? What did she say before? I open my eyes, but fling them to the wall as the white is revealed again. I can’t look.

“You should probably change it later,” Shirlee says. Change what? The passcode? The passcode. Four-five. One-two-three-four-five. A placeholder. Okay. Got it.

But the white. I can’t look, it’s too similar to… I can’t look. Can it go away? How can I make it go away?

“Hey, is there, uhh...” I start, lungs still tight. “Way to make the... stuff… darker?” I wave my hand above the screen, trying to make up for the words I lack.

“Oh, like a dark theme?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I bet there is. Hold on, I’ll get it.”

The weight leaves my hand and I can exhale deeply. I hear taps, tap tap tap. The white sheen goes away. I dare to glance, hopeful. The screen is not white. It’s dark gray.

“There you go,” says Shirlee, again returning the phone to me. This time it doesn’t hurt.

“Thanks,” I breathe. Actual gratitude was in those words.

“No prob. So, what do you wanna do next? I already added my number before, so don’t worry about that. It was like the first thing I did.” She laughs lightly, then clears her throat. “Anyway, what’cha wanna do? Download some apps?”

The flames of before are now extinguished, but I don’t want to try my luck. The best course of action to take right now is to put the phone away. In the end, I’ll look more normal down that path.

“Well, actually, I can probably figure that out on my own later...” I put the phone back in its box, screen down. I look at Shirlee, at her eyes, finding peace in the organic forms and tissues. “I feel like… we should be together now that we have the time.”

“Oh… yeah, you have a point…” Oh, thank the Gods, she’s not resisting the idea.

I smile encouragingly. “So, anything more you'd like to tell me about yourself?”

“No, no, I’ve talked about myself enough today,” she replies, shaking her head… or entire body. “And you already know so much about me. I want to know more about you!”

“O-oh?” This… will be tricky.

“Yeah! Your childhood, your likes and dislikes, hobbies, school, all that!”

“Ah, I don't know, I’m not all that interesting…” Take the hint. Please.

“No, I wanna know! I insist! It's only fair. So, how was growing up for you?”

She’s not backing down… oh Gods, I’m going to need to lie a lot now. About everything.

“Uhh… well,” I start, fingers rubbing together, “I was born in Pallet Town, I’ve lived in the same house for all my life…”

“What's your family like?”

Family… ugh. The father I don't know, the mother I wish I didn't, the half brother who just kind of exists… “Uh, single mother, younger brother, two mon… housemates… pretty standard.” Don't think I’ll include the rest of my team. They come over either rarely or never, and I doubt Shirlee would like me implying I own them. Even if they weren't free mon.

“Oh, how'd you end up living with those two mon?”

A horde of interdimensional voices in my head told me to get both. “I, well… the nidoking I befriended in the wild when he was young, and the omanyte…” I have to pause to think. “I adopted Him from some scientists after He’d been restored from a fossil.”

“That's awesome! You're so generous. He’s the one who was also a fan of mine, right?”

“Yeah, that’s Him.” Please don’t ask more. I don’t know how to make my relationship to Him sound normal.

“Oh, it's a shame I can't meet Him,” Shirlee sighs. “It'd surely make His day, but I just really need to keep my private life secret.”

I nod. You and me both, honey.

“Okay, next subject. How’s your school? You’re in high school now, correct?”

Incorrect. “Yeah, high school. It’s going pretty well, I guess...”

“Got any friends?”

Someone who I’d like to be around and vice versa? Excluding my lord - that’ll be the day. “A couple, I guess.”

“What do y’all do together?”

Hold hands and skip on hills while singing about how much we respect each other. Do I look like I know what friends do together? Why do you even want to know these things?

“Just… stuff.” Come on, come up with something. “We don’t hang out that much, to be honest, just see each other at school.”

“Oh… so what do you do in your alone time, then?”

I… oh Gods, what do I do? Normally I tend to His wishes, but nowadays He’s distracted and Fonz is taking the most care of Him, anyway. I work out, yeah, but usually only once a day and it’s over with quite fast… where does all the time go, then? Do I just sit around wallowing in my own hatred for the world while accomplishing nothing?

No, of course not. That's a silly thought. I do all kinds of things. I just can't remember them right now.

Four knocks come from the door. “Ms Tanner?” calls a gruff voice - Arktos. Phew, saved by the bear.

“Coming,” responds Shirlee. “Sorry, I probably need to take this,” she adds to me before zooming to the door. With her telekinesis, she cracks it open. “Yes?”

“Anders is here,” says the beartic, voice lowered.

Shirlee’s words get quieter, too. “What, the time’s up already?”

“Well, it's a couple minutes short, but he says it's important.”

“Hrmh…” She turns to me, disheartened.

I notice an opportunity and stand up. “It's alright. We can always talk more at another time.”

“I suppose…” She unhooks the chain on the door, bringing more of Arktos to view. A tuft of ghostly gray hair peeks out behind his shoulder.

I restrain my smile to an appropriate degree as I walk to the door. I grab the handle, but Shirlee interrupts.

“Wait, don't forget your phone!” She swoops up the white box on the table and hands it to me.

“Oh, thanks.” Yeah, thanks.

“I’ll be texting you!” says Shirlee as I exit the door. “Don't forget to text back!”

“I won't. See you later.” As they were the last words, I had the energy to make them more convincing.

“Hey, mister,” says Arktos, freezing me in place. Gods, he sure has a daunting voice. “I’ll call the ride for you, he’ll be here soon.”

I nod. “Got it. Thanks.”

The beartic opens the door, and a man walks into view from behind him. Oldish, Unovan, sharp black eyebrows. Weird. I think I smelled a hint of cigarette smoke around him.

Well, whatever. It's time for me to make my well-deserved exit. I can't wait to get to bed and fall to a deep, sweet sleep, oblivious to the situation I’ve found myself in.

---

Then there was Juzo. Oh my Gods, I wish I didn't remember Juzo, that fat piece of shit. Always wheezing in laughter with each insult the jackass brigade threw at me. Would’ve kicked his shit in too if the ones calling me a snailfucker or flashing screens in my face didn’t take priority.

And giggling in the sidelines too, there was Annie, who was just… such an annoying bitch, which every other girl agreed on with me. Not that they were any good, either. I swear, no one at that school was deserving of the oxygen they breathed. Everyone was just terrible. Except maybe Tamaki, who I guess was okay because he let me pay him to beat him up, but outside of that he was of no use to anyone.

Dammit. Why did she have to bring up school? All kinds of bad memories are flooding my mind now. As if I needed to feel any worse.

At least I get to go home now, even if that means having to tolerate that bearded grinning fuck for the whole way home…

As soon as that thought crosses my mind, something long and shiny slides into view on the street outside. The sneasel has arrived.

It’s fine, it’s fine, I think to myself as I get up and leave through the entrance. But as I reach the limo’s side and that nutcracker-looking ass steps out… something changes.

I can’t do this. I’ve met my limit. I’ve been tortured with never-ending blabbering. I’ve had my old wounds ripped right open with my face forced onto that screen. I’ve been interrogated and played with like the puppet that she was supposed to be in this scenario. The churning waves of fury are crashing onto my ears, millipedes of fire scratch their way through my veins. And now you - you want to talk to me? Inject yourself into my headspace? Dive into the scalding sea and expect not even a singe?

You’re totally right. He should pay with his blood...

And now look what you’ve done. You’ve brought this guy back. He’s going to slip himself into my skin at any moment and cause irreversible damage, unless I…

“Good evening!” some unknown strength in me comes forth to say. It constructs an impossible smile. “Sorry, but do you mind if I take a quick walk around before we leave? It’s a pretty night and a pretty town.”

The driver’s eyebrows rise. “Oh? Well, are you sure you won’t get lost?”

I hand him the box and he takes it - because he has to. I do like this power. “I’m sure, I won’t go too far. I’ll be back in just five minutes.”

“Alright, then. I’ll wait in the car.” The man shoves himself back in his seat, and I skitter off like a cockroach in a sudden spotlight.

I turn a corner and lean against it. Blood still boils within my brain. Blood, the oil and the fuel of this machine, this body that yearns to kill, to destroy, to hunt. Prey walk these streets, so comfortable and unsuspecting, necks begging for a bite, sacks of flesh waiting to be torn into… I want to kill. I have to kill. I have to go back and break that driver. Hands in his hair, slamming that face to the metal of the car…

I dig my gloved fingers into my scalp and slide down the wall. No, it can't be done. Stay where you are. If you kill, they'll put you down. You rabid animal. This is why you had to leave school. This is why you have no future. This is why you can't be normal.

But it's… alright. You have a way out. You just need to survive until HE is ready and then, then you'll be fine, nothing will stand in your way anymore…

Survive. Survive. Survive…

I can survive. I can manage. It's alright. I just need to survive.

My breathing slows, relaxes. The storm of blood relents. I can sense other things again. Sounds of traffic, footsteps, stray honk. Exhaust fumes and a moderate chill linger in the air. It's not the most calming environment, but I’m alone. Solitude in itself is beautiful.

I take my hands off my head and tuck them into the sleeves of my coat. Well, I remove one momentarily to swipe away my messed up bangs. It clears my vision and I can look around.

Brick and concrete surround me, the little color they had washed away by the dark and substituted with the orange of the street lights. The sky above is dirty black and starless. The clear nights in Pallet aren’t all galaxies and asteroids, either, but I’m used to seeing at least a few twinkles here and there.

I breathe in the cold and curl my toes. I’m alive. Alive with a frail human body. And that's why I can't be losing control. I’ll get myself broken. Got that, primal side?

No response. My cooling nerves seem to have hidden that inner urge for now. I can't decide if that's good.

Sighing, I check my watch, barely able to read the time in the low light of the alley. It's only been about two minutes since my last check back at the hotel. I still have time. I'm freezing up just squatting here, so I get up and start walking to generate some warmth. I don't want to get lost, though, so I keep my pace pretty slow and track all my turns...

A loud clatter rings out, making me jump like I’d just stepped on a pineco. My eyes flick around the darkness in search of the source. They spot a metal garbage can with its lid lying next to it, but no large moving things. It's unlikely to be a threat. My mind regains some clarity. The hand leaves the scabbard - or the spot where it usually would be.

I creep closer to the can, crouching to see better and look less intimidating. From the darkness beyond the metal, something stares back. It could be diseased, aggressive or both, so I keep my fingers to myself and thank my past self for putting on gloves.

“Who might you be?” I softly ask.

The creature moves back. The motion exposes the eyes - two big yellowish ones - along with a third gleam above them. I think I know what it is.

I move back a few steps and dig out my wallet. I sink two fingers into the pouch with the change and jingle the coins together. The eyes in the dark widen and silently approach. I can make out a tiny paw.

Smiling, I draw out a nickel. If the critter wasn't engaged before, it is now. It lets out a mewl and cautiously speeds up. I begin to back away, leading us both towards a streetlight. The glow eats away the shadow covering the being and my guess is confirmed.

It's a little meowth. Not a total kitten, yet not a fully grown adult. Its pale fur is somewhat dirty with awkward tufts sticking out in places, but the coin on its forehead is marvellously shiny. Shows where the priorities of the species lie.

This specimen seems pretty much feral. That's odd... I would've thought no mon could remain as such while surrounded by human activity all day, but maybe this one had no desire to learn. Or maybe its parents didn't want it to… I couldn't blame them. Plenty of times, I’ve had the thought that being born a mon and growing up feral would’ve been preferable. Why would one want the ability to lose one's happiness purely through the power of thought? Why would one want the burden of a civilized creature, for laws to apply to them? Why wouldn't one just rather refuse to take that path and remain a blissfully unaware animal? All you need is to isolate yourself and wait out that crucial learning period, then no one can sway you after that…

...if you're a mon, that is. Unfortunately, humans still manage to retain their potential for sentience. It's a must, as our wit is our only weapon against the entire arsenals that mon may bear. As mentioned before, our bodies are quite fragile and pathetic.

“Mroaw…” The meowth has stopped, its snout almost touching the coin between my fingers. Its whiskers and tiny nostrils waver.

Slowly, I pull my hand towards me. “Want it? You need to do something for me first,” I whisper. I snatch the coin with the other hand, then lower and open the first. As I’d hoped, the meowth realizes the terms of the trade and gently pokes my gloved fingers with its muzzle. I twitch the fingertips. It's unsure of the act at first, but soon it raises its head and allows me to scratch its chin.

“Good kitty,” I purr and offer the mon the coin. It nabs it from my hold with its teeth and recedes, but stops again as I show my wallet once more. There are probably humans out there who'd act exactly the same way. That thought is somewhat sad.

I repeat my process of the nickel-for-touching trade, getting to stroke the meowth’s warm soft fluff again. I may be gloved, but the creature’s heat is still noticeable in the cold environment.

I’ve lost ten cents to this now, though… I pocket my wallet, causing the cat to mrow in protest and push its head onto me.

“You want even more? Greedy kitty you are…”

I pet its neck, which now appears to be enjoyable to the meowth by itself, but it doesn't stop its begging. Its begging doesn't get me to budge, either, but I keep stroking its fur. It feels nice. It calms me down. Maybe I should catch something fluffy back at home and keep it. Gods know I could use something to douse my rage now that He’s not available…

...ugh. And now we're back to this. I almost managed to forget what I’m wrapped up in.

Why couldn't dealing with Shirlee be as easy as this meowth? Why can't her company be as tolerable? I bet I could have this cat doing backflips in just a few days, and it would only end up costing me a dollar or two. No time wasted by being bored out of my mind, no past traumas resurfaced…

My tendons have tightened again. My heart jabs at my chest. It’s all her fault. Her songs, her dances, her fame, her existence. I could end her life in just a blink of an eye, but I can't. She's protected by law and her presence in the public conscious. I have to grasp at all kinds of straws to change her both subtly and drastically at the same time. If I had my way, I’d let that urge of mine go unrestrained - not only on her, but everyone else as well. The brats from my old school, the security making my hunts so difficult, my bitch of a mother, and yes, the driver I’m probably supposed to be back to by now as well. I know that someday I’ll ascend and that will all become reality, but I have to find a way to manage in the meantime, a way to bleed this anger away before it ruins everything...

A silent, still warmth grows at my core as I realize something quite convenient.

I have that way right here.

---

“Oh, there you are. I was starting to get worried,” says the driver as he exits the car. “Did you get lost after all?”

“Sorry, sorry,” I laugh. “I just found a little boutique and I couldn't help myself.”

“Fair enough,” he responds and opens the door for me. “Buy anything?”

“A good luck charm.” I allow him a glance at an elongated gold coin.

“Oh, that looks real. You sure it isn't?”

“Says ‘Made in Hoenn’ on the back.”

He flashes that signature grin of his. “Alright then. Let's get you home.”

---

 

[canisaries]

slipping off the first page? nuh uh pal not on my watch. anyway it's scary how accurately it's been about 10 days between each of the latest chapters. guess that's what daily word goals will do. dunno how it'll go starting next week when uni starts. yikes.

oh right also the chapters have names now because i like puns i guess. this chapter's rated teen like all the others. there's some violence, though. enjoy. (edit: chapter revised, now contains some sexual humor)

---

CHAPTER 7
Digital Dummy

---
​

“Honey, wake up!”

I jolt awake from the shout, heartbeat kicked to superspeed in an instant. I sit up on my bed, but see only darkness. Wh-who was that?

A blinding light rips into the blackness - a door opening. Something hovers in the frame. “Come on, sleepyhead! You’ll be late!”

The contrast relents and my surroundings sharpen. This isn’t my room. This isn’t my bed. My bed only has room for one. And that voice, that figure, it’s --

Shirlee floats deeper in. Something glints at the base of one of her smaller tentacles. Metallic, golden. A ring? No, don’t tell me…

I check my left hand. A similar ring encircles the base of the fourth finger.

A cold, wet tap on my chest yanks my attention back to the inkay. She withdraws her club. “You can admire your ring later, silly! Right now, you gotta take the kids to school!”

Th-

The kids?!

Laughter bursts out from the door. More figures pour in, each more disturbing than the last. Bodies comprised of human and inkay parts meshed together blindly. Toddlers with tentacle limbs scooting across the floor. Floating squids with human arms and baby faces. They all scream and squeal and creak among other inhuman noises. They run at me. No, stay away, don’t touch me --

“Daddy!” they shout as they jump on the bed and crawl onto me. Cold and warm and dry and slimy and hairy, all kinds of touches, that’s too much, g-get off -- ow! Did one of those bastards bite me?

Shirlee claps her tentacles. “Come on, y’all, give your daddy some space!”

The swarm of monstrosities scatters and then recompiles around Shirlee into a squirming mass. I see my window, jump off the bed and dash out of the room. The rest of the house, too, is foreign. It must be a new one we bought as we got… married… and had a family… how did that even happen? How does that work between a human and a squid? D-did I put it in the siphon?

"Okay, sweetie, I really need to head to work now," Shirlee says, emerging from the room. In her tentacles lies a mass of clothing which I've barely seen before she chucks it at me. "Here are your clothes. Love you, bye!"

With a flash and a puff, she’s gone. I didn’t know she could teleport.

A second of silence later, the abominations she called 'kids' rush back out of the bedroom, tentacles and fingers alike reaching for me. Oh Gods! I'm about to run away, but spot a stray plush teddiursa on the cupboard next to me. I grab it and fling it down the stairs. The mass of little monsters squeal and dart for the toy, and I take the chance to slip back into the bedroom and lock myself in.

Oh Gods, okay, what do I do? I need to get the fuck out of here. Not just out of this house, but out of this town. This country! I'll fly to Alola and start my life anew as a coconut farmer! Anything's an improvement over this! But where do I get the money? Ah! Got it!

I open the drawers next to the bed and snatch every piece of jewelry I can carry on my body - chains of gold on my neck, rings on my fingers and earrings through painfully improvised piercings. I remember the clothes Shirlee gave me and hastily dress myself, slip even more valuables into the pockets and finally open the window. I descend the convenient escape ladder to the side of the house and get to my car…

Shit, right. I don't actually know how to drive. I'll have to go by foot. The city seems to be to the left given all those skyscrapers on the horizon, so I run out of the yard and turn -- Arktos! And… my lord? Arktos is holding my lord?

"Oh, hello," the beartic greets, dressed in a casual top and shorts. "Haven't seen you in a while, Mr Tanner. How have you been?"

"Wh-wh-what are you doing with Him?" I wheeze, pointing at the omanyte… who, even now, is on His phone.

Arktos sighs, annoyed. "This again? Look, Red, He's our son now. Has been ever since my husband and I adopted him."

"Son?" I shout. Then, more quietly, I add, "Husband?" I wouldn't have guessed.

A tall bearded man of amber skin and a face all too familiar walks to Arktos' side. "Is there trouble, my beloved?"

"Kohath?" I squeak. It's hard to speak when you've been stabbed straight through the heart.

"Ah. You." The ancient Helixian king's eyes adopt a contemptuous glare. The yellow irides freeze my soul solid. That's HIM taking his form, alright.

"Wh-why are you with him?" I stutter, pointing now to Arktos. "How are you even --"

"Because," Kohath snarls, startling me to silence. He raises a hand to stroke the neck of the beartic. "He is a predator worthy of my blessing," he continues. "Strong, fearsome… and unlike you, the size of his phallus does not arouse pity in the beholder."

My face burns up. "My dick isn't small! It's average! L-look at any medical book and you'll --"

"Silence!" he roars, and I wince. “It is irrelevant now. I have other matters to attend to, such as starting the apocalypse. And speaking of...” He checks his watch. “Yes, it is about time.”

About time for --

Kohath’s body erupts into something several times his size and entirely inhuman. With an ear-splitting screech from the colossal, many-limbed worm, the skies turn an infernal red. All vegetation rots to black in an instant, setting afloat a gut-churning stench of death. Oh Gods, oh Gods, no!

“See you later, honey,” Arktos says, thoroughly unfazed, and paces off with my lord nested in his claws. “Be home by six!”

The worm screeches back, then turns to me with its shredder-like mouth dripping with drool. Oh Gods. Oh fuck. It lunges at me!

“No! Please!” I cover myself with my arms, as if it’s going to help somehow. The earth rumbles, probably from some other distant catastrophe, but it doesn’t really matter as I’m about to become minced meat! The ground softens before me and...

Wait, why?

The monster is gone. The sky is gone. I just see a ceiling. Oh. I’m in my bedroom. It was all a dream. No, the rumble is back! But that's not a rumble, that's more like a buzz. And now it stopped. It came from the nightstand... oh. The smartphone.

I drag the phone over to my bed. 2 New Messages, reads the screen. Must be Shirlee. Or spam. Um, I should probably check them. How do I do that? And will it... hurt?

Slide to unlock screen. Okay, I can do that. Okay, now I need to input the passcode. I can do that too. The home screen opens. In the array of icons, one resembling a letter has a bright red badge on its corner with the number two. Must be the texting app. Bracing myself for any whites that could set off some painful thoughts again, I tap on the icon. Whew, okay, looks like this interface is dark too.

I tap on Shirlee’s section as it retains the badge from before - not that I seem to have any other contacts to choose from - and her messages are finally displayed.

(10:22) good morning!
(10:22) enjoyin your new phone?

Ugh, this isn’t anything important. Why’d you wake me up for this at -- wait, ten in the morning? I guess I forgot to set my alarm. I was pretty tired when I got home last night. But it’s not like that’s a big deal, given I don’t have anything to hurry for as long as I’m still invisible to Him.

I guess I should still respond somehow, though. I tap to write my message, and the keyboard pops up - white. My back hardens to a shell. The little pump inside me returns to the pace it gained during the end of my dream.

This can't go on like this. If I’m going to be the confidant of a modern star, I need to move on to the modern age. And the sad truth is, technology is everywhere at every time. So… I suppose I should just suck it up the best I can and keep going. Eventually, the fear has to go away.

Morning, I type, not exactly at any record speed. It's great since I get to talk to you. Well, that nearly made me throw up. Send.

Shirlee’s typing. Already?

(10:24) aww lol
(10:24) so what else is up

Not much. Just woke up. How about you?

(10:24) gettin ready to leave for viridian
(10:24) anders said we gotta leave early to figure some stuff out at the arena
(10:24) (my manager)
(10:24) anyway p hectic
(10:24) annoyed rn since this one roadies an ass and keeps bein rude to security
(10:25) id kick him right away but like anders owes his dad a favor or some shit and he gave him a job
(10:25) but this guy is such a douche like

She's still typing. I might as well do my morning chores while she rants.

I turn off the phone's screen, which now prompts another buzz with every new reply. Because that's not annoying. Ugh, I’ll just bear it, I guess. I don't feel like trekking through the settings to search for a mute mode right now.

I get up, heading for the door, but a golden glint on the nightstand catches my eye. A smile creeps on my face. That’s right. I hunted yesterday, didn't I? And that coin is my trophy. A lot easier to keep than what I usually take… and prettier, too, I’d argue, but there’s just something a lot more… personal about tongues.

Though a coin like this has the advantage of appearing much less incriminating. They make fake plastic meowth coins by the dozen as good luck charms. I can actually let people see this thing. I could put it on a necklace and wear it. Proudly displaying my catch. Yes, that sounds good…

Another buzz snaps me out of my thoughts. Eh, I'll just go take care of my morning routine and return to this later.


---

How in the fuck is she still texting? Good Gods, she's writing a novel here. I thought it was supposed to be hectic for her. I need to shut her up somehow, I’d rather do my exercise in peace.

I unlock the phone and look. A waterfall of text cascades from the top of the screen to the bottom. And there's even more above, probably screenfuls. Wonderful!

I skim through the lines. Seems like she’s covered a whole variety of subjects. None of them relevant to me, though, just whining about the people around her.

A pop up shows, saying there are new messages. I sigh and scroll back down.

(10:31) u still there?

Oh crap. Yeah, just thinking. That sounds awful.

She begins to type her response, but I decide enough is enough. Hey, sorry, but I should really go now. Mind if I take off for a while?

(10:32) oh yeah go ahead
(10:32) sorry for ranting so much

It’s fine. See ya.

I place the phone on the floor next to my mattress and pray it’ll stay still, at least for the next half an hour or so.


---

Stuck to an old necklace of my mother’s with simple tape… it’s an insult to this coin, this jewel of nature, but it’ll have to do for now. I’ll need resources for anything more complex. I’ll get some along with the next groceries.

I slip on the makeshift necklace and peek at a mirror of the downstairs bedroom. Yes, that looks good! With the tape hidden, the cheapness is just as concealed, leaving only the two glimmering components of the necklace to shine. I should wear jewelry more often. Even without the audacity of flaunting the prize of my kill right under everyone’s noses, there’s a charm to wearing this. I can carry it with pride.

Okay, that settles that. What to do next? I fiddle with my fingers as my eyes search the room for something interesting. There’s Clinical Human Anatomy on the nightstand… but I don’t really feel like reading. That book or any other book. I’ve read them all before. I should get new ones some time.

I decide to get off the bed and move to the living room. I lie down on the sofa and switch on the TV in hopes of there being anything good. There isn’t. Not even documentaries. Just soaps and reality shows and kids’ cartoons… I suppose it’s about the time for those. I let a channel with one stay on, since at least kids’ shows have an excuse to be stupid. It’ll be background noise while I continue to think of something better to do.

Hey, what about Shirlee? She hasn’t messaged me since I told her to cut it out. I should get back to her. It’ll give the impression I actually care about her problems, and I shouldn’t let my plans come to a standstill for too long, anyway. My lord is waiting. Well, I’m waiting for my lord.

I pull out my phone and open the texting app. Hey. What’s up? I tap and send.

The screen stays immobile. Not a sniff of Shirlee.

Has something happened to her? Is she dead right now? Wouldn’t that be great? It’d make all my efforts be for nothing, which would piss me off quite a bit, but she’d be gone.

Oh, nevermind, she’s typing.

(12:37) ...hi.

That’s... oddly punctuated. Is something wrong?

(12:37) well
(12:37) i took a walk
(12:37) or float
(12:37) and i saw something pretty fucked.

Oh? What was it?

(12:37) i saw this little kitten

Well that doesn’t sound too -- oh, wait.

(12:38) it was dead

Yeah, figured. Didn’t expect her to go to alleys like that, though.

(12:38) like rly dead
(12:38) dirty and beaten
(12:38) its coin was gone and it had a bloody spot in its place
(12:38) like what the fuck?

The coin resting atop my chest gets a little heavier. Note to self, do not wear this around Shirlee. Though she probably wouldn’t like the practice of using mon parts as decoration regardless of their authenticity.

Maybe a murkrow took it? I suggest.

(12:38) yea but would a murkrow beat it up like that
(12:38) it must have gotten there afterwards

Were its eyes pecked out?

(12:38) ...what the hell? whys that important

Wild murkrow really like eating eyes.

(12:38) stop. thats gross.

Geez. Sorry nature gets a little gruesome sometimes, missy.

Sorry. I’ll stop.

(12:38) yeah so thats whats got me fucked up atm…
(12:38) just what did all that to that poor kitten?
(12:39) oh gods do you think it was a person?
(12:39) OH GODS DO YOU THINK THAT KITTEN MAY HAVE BEEN A PERSON??
(12:39) should i tell the cops??

My heart jumps. Oh Gods, no no no, let’s not do that. But I can’t directly tell her not to, that’d be suspicious.

Did it look civil? I ask.

(12:39) ...i guess not

Would a civil kitten be wandering in the big city all by itsel-

I pause, then backspace with a groan.

-themselves? Without any clothes on a cold winter, and in some alleyway? Send.

(12:39) how did you know it was in an alleyway?

I freeze.

Oh fuck.

Okay. Think. Think. Um. Right!

I figured it was in an alleyway if there was no one else. Please believe that, please.

She's typing...

(12:39) i guess that makes sense…

I can breathe again. That's not perfectly positive, but it's not perfectly negative, and that's what matters most. But now I definitely can't wear this coin around Shirlee. Maybe I should just play it safe and put it in the hidden room. For as long as this Shirlee crap is happening, anyway.

Oh, she's typing again.

(12:39) but anyway… even if it was a feral it still might have been killed by something civil that wanted its coin
(12:39) like how fucked do you have to be in the head to just kill an innocent kitten for a little shiny thing

Hey. I didn't kill it for a little shiny thing. That was just a perk.

(12:39) it seriously makes me mad

Don’t worry. It was probably just some wild mon.

Like a vulp- no, that would've eaten it. But then what… aha!

Like a rival meowth. They're pretty territorial.

(12:39) i guess…
(12:39) i hope thats the case
(12:40) i wouldnt feel safe if kitten killing sickos were roaming the streets
(12:40) ugh

Yeah, you need to be safe and sound in a padded cradle, you little baby...

"Hey R--"

"Gahh!" I jump and twist to the direction of the voice. A pidgeot's face stares back with equally startled eyes. Oh, it's Jess.

I sigh, sitting up on the couch. "Don't sneak up on me like that, for Gods' sake."

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Didn't you hear me come?"

"Obviously not," I mutter, but I am surprised I didn't notice. A little upset, too, considering how I'm supposed to be an apex predator and all that. I guess the TV must have masked the noise or something.

"Well, anyway…" He raises a wing to point. "Where'd you get that phone and necklace from? And… since when can you use phones?" He smiles. "Good on you, dude!"

"Uhm…" I flip the phone screen down. I guess it is pretty drastic a change for me to be even this comfortable with a piece of tech. But where could I have gotten this phone… "A friend got them for me." Jess opens his beak, but I'm faster. "Yes, I made a friend."

"Is your friend loaded to just give out phones and jewelry like that?"

"Uhh, kinda, yeah."

"Whoa, can he --"

"No, he can't get you free shit."

Jess frowns. "Aww, man, don't hog the sugar daddy."

"The… what?"

"Nevermind, doesn't matter." He flaps himself onto the couch and sits… or bird-sits next to me. "This is great, dude! You're getting better at handling tech. I mean, if you can use a phone now, imagine what you'll be able to do in a year!"

Well… I don’t intend for this nonsense to continue for a full year, but…

I stare down at the black rectangle in my hands. Me with a smartphone. Who would’ve thought. I’ve only been using it out of necessity, but maybe this is… good for me? Like I said before, technology is everywhere these days. I’ve managed to avoid it enough so far, and honestly, after this Shirlee thing is over, I’ll continue to manage until the ascension. But that’s just it. I’ll only manage. The wait will still be long and painful, just as it has been for the past three years, even with Him around. I thought that maybe I hadn’t had enough of Him, but maybe… He just isn’t enough.

Maybe Jess is right. I need something other than Him in my life. I hated how he put it - like I wanted to be miserable, still stuck in the times of that awful journey, but… it is true that journey still hurts me to this day. Not just with the phobia of tech. I’ve been clinging to Him.

Now, there’s nothing bad about being with Him. It makes me feel content, and that’s good. Even HE finds my bond with Him beneficial. But when He’s gone, that’s where the problem is. I barely have anything else. I do have HIM, but I should only see him for dire advice and rituals, and I need to keep those rituals infrequent enough to keep the cops off my trail. The fact stands that my life is… pretty empty.

But now I have this. An opportunity to evolve, to expand my world. I could find things to care about. Maybe I could even find some work. The prevalence of technology has been the biggest reason I can’t live a more eventful life… tied with dropping out of high school, that is. But high school isn’t required for everything. That’s why I could drop out in the first place. There should be things out there I could do, things to keep me busy during the day. I also hate people, that’s true, but that’s what tech has been replacing. There just might be a job with minimal human contact and no required education out there for me that I could take.

Hell, doesn’t Jess have that? I eye the pidgeot sitting beside me. He makes some kinds of videos and apparently gets paid for it. I know for a fact he’s not very educated or smart, but he’s making a good living.

Jess, almost as if he’d heard, shifts his gaze from the TV screen to me. “Um, you’ve been quiet for a pretty long time, dude. Is this conversation over, or...”

“Oh. Uhh...” I sit up straight. “Sorry, I got lost in thought. What was the last thing you said, again?”

Before he can answer, the phone on my lap buzzes. It must be Shirlee again.

“That your sugar daddy?” quips Jess. Another buzz.

“No,” I grunt. “Now piss off. I want some privacy.”

“You got it, bud.” Jess hops off the couch and waddles out of view, his talons clacking against the wooden floor.

Alright, let’s see what Shirlee has sent. I flip over the phone. It’s gone dark. Right. I click it back alight and insert the passcode. That’s pretty cumbersome. Maybe they have alternatives in the settings.

The phone buzzes once more before I manage to get to the messages. Ugh, put it all in one text if you have lots to say! Looks like I'll have even more to do in the settings.

(12:42) oh but on another note
(12:42) i know my schedule in viridian better now
(12:42) im pretty sure i can meet you again before the show this saturday

Finally, I can advance with my plan. Sounds great!

(12:42) yeah, ill get back to you later when i have more deets
(12:42) for now i gtg
(12:42) bye!

Bye!

Okay, that's that. Now where are the sett-

"Why are you texting with someone pretending to be Shirlee?"

I flinch and flip the phone again. "Jess!" I hiss, looking over my shoulder - and indeed, the pidgeot's head peeks over the back of the couch. The bastard must've snuck there. "Don't you know what privacy means?"

"I'm just looking out for you, dude!" he says. "Tech beginners like you are easy prey for scammers. And this looks fishy!" He climbs atop the couch and points to the screen. "You don't actually think this is the real Shirlee, do you?"

Weird chance, but I'll take it. "No. I know what I’m doing."

“You haven’t sent her - or ‘her’ - any money, have you?”

“No.”

“Personal information?”

“No! I already told you, this is under control.”

“I sure hope you’re right,” he says and drops down to the floor. “I don’t know why you want to humor some scammer, but you better be careful about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just get off my back already.”

“Have it your way.” He spreads his wings and flies up the stairs. I stare after him for a few seconds to make sure he stays gone.

Okay, back to the point. I was looking for settings…


---

The front door opens.

"We're home," calls out Fonz. Oh, good, he can help me with that one thing. I won't have to ask Jess.

“Hey,” I call back and return to the home screen from the settings. I can explore the rest of them later - for now, I've got what I want, that being a mute mode. Won't have to get a buzz from every message anymore.

I listen as Fonz makes his way further in - brushes his feet, unwraps Him from all the scarves - and finally, he enters my view. And so does my lord in his hands. Still on His phone, I see, though now He’s got no headphones on.

"Hey, Fonz?" I begin, catching his attention. "Can you help me with something?"

"Uh, in a minute," he says, setting the omanyte down on the other end of the couch. "I gotta eat something first."

I nod, and he leaves for the kitchen. I'm in no rush.

Silence falls, save for the noises of the nidoking rummaging through the fridge and the omanyte tapping on His phone. I steal a glance at Him only to regret it right after.

He's just like He always is these days, of course. He doesn’t even notice I’m here. What did I expect? Even with nothing occupying His sense of hearing, I don’t register.

Doesn’t He miss me at all? I practically raised Him. In multiple lifetimes. Even if He had forgotten everything from His past lives, I still cared for Him in this one. I held Him so much. I taught Him things. Doesn’t that mean anything to Him?

Maybe He’s just lost in His own world and needs a reminder. I haven’t been actively pulling Him out, and if He can’t break out of that bubble by Himself, how can I expect things to change? So why don't I just…

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I'm too afraid. I'm too afraid He'll look up from that phone with annoyance, disdain. Tell me He doesn't care about me, doesn't want me here. That He'll bite my fingers and struggle if I try to hold Him.

Is this even about Shirlee? Have I done something wrong? Has He… learned something in school that makes Him shut me out? He already wondered why I call Him my lord, according to Fonz. Does He feel uncomfortable with this relationship? Does He find me smothering? Has my desire to be close only driven Him away?

I tense my hands. The nails dig into my jeans. If that's the case, why didn't He tell me? Was He too polite? Too disinterested? Too afraid? He really could be too afraid. This calm exterior of His could just be Him hiding His weakness. Inside, He's noticed the clues to my true self - the knife I carry, the time I spend alone, how little I care for others… and He's terrified. He thinks that, were He to tell me He wants distance, I'd do something bad to Him.

But I wouldn't. I would never hurt Him. It's my duty and will to only protect Him. I just want to be with Him…

"Okay, I'm ready now," Fonz calls from the kitchen, snapping me out of my thoughts. "What did you need help with?"

Ah. Yeah. I get up and circle the couch - but I can’t help taking a peek over the back at my lord. The screen shows… her. Of course it’s her. Her stupid, flashy getup and her repetitive songs…

What was I thinking? Of course it’s all because of her. The change was too quick. He’s way too entranced by her. It’s her fault. That witch. She’s put a spell on Him, a curse, and it’s my responsibility to free Him. To eliminate her. And once she’s gone… things will go back to the way they should be.

“Red?” Fonz asks. Oh, I’ve stopped, haven’t I.

“Yeah, coming.” I shuffle over to the kitchen and sit beside the nidoking at the round table. I place the phone down on it. Right, I guess Fonz hasn’t seen that yet either, so I should --

“Oh, whose phone is that?” he asks. Yep, this again.

“Got it from that friend of mine,” I explain quickly. “He’s pretty generous. Now, um, I’ve been trying to sort of get more comfortable with it, and...”

His eyes widen. “Oh, that’s great!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But, um, there’s something I can’t figure out. I thought that you might know how to do it since you’ve been more involved with smartphones than me through...” I don’t really want to finish that sentence. Brings out the jealousy in me. “I’ll just get to the point. How do I delete pictures?”

“Delete pictures? Oh, that’s easy, I can show you.”

Yes, please do rub it in how much of an idiot I am. “Thanks. So here’s the gallery --”

He lifts up his claws all of a sudden. “Whoa, whoa, hold on. What kind of pictures do you want to delete?”

It takes a bit of staring from me before I infer his intent. “They’re not of my penis, Fonz.”

“G-good, just making sure.”

I push the phone towards him, impatient. "So can you show me how to do it?"

He hesitates. Why? "Well, um, it's probably not calibrated to my touch…" He places a claw on the screen and moves it. Nothing happens. "See?"

"Oh." Right. "Is there a way to have it calibrated for both you and me?"

"Yeah, Helix's phone has that for Us. Let's see…"

He enters the settings while I recover from the utterance of His name. I don't allow myself to say it as it feels too direct, and while I do let others use it, it still rings a kind of alarm.

As I finish, so does he. "There," he says. "Now we can both use it. Do know this might let some foreign objects interact with it, too, though. Something about them having properties similar to claws and so…"

"Yeah, thanks. It shouldn't be a problem." It needs a button click and a code input to open, anyway.

"So here's what you do," he starts, back at the gallery. "You hold down your finger, and these options appear --"

I blink. "You can hold down?"

"Yeah. You can do a bunch of stuff with it. Actually, you should try it any time you're lost. It might just give you the stuff you need." He slides the phone back to me.

Well, damn. I never thought of that. "Thanks."

With this newfound information, I can select all the pictures I want to get rid of and delete them all at once. Unlike what Fonz suggested, they're not really sensitive content - just a bunch of blurry shots of my forehead from when I was testing out the camera. I didn't initially realize there was a front one, which made me try and get them blindly with the one on the back… and that led us to where we are now.

I consider leaving some of the proper shots behind, but notice the necklace visible in all of them. I really can't afford to let Shirlee see me with that, and I find her way too nosy to let my gallery stay private.

"Nice bling, by the way," comments Fonz with an amused huff. You know what, maybe I should just refrain from wearing this altogether. If Fonz doesn't even take it seriously, I might just end up as a laughing stock.

“Yeah,” I mutter, get up and head upstairs for some privacy. I can’t let Him catch me chatting with Shirlee, even if I can say it’s just a fake. He might want to play pretend, and if He went online searching for some fake Shirlees, He might find the kind of scammers Jess was talking about. I hope Fonz is keeping a close eye on His activities online...

I’ll also need the privacy for further planning of the coming date. Find something to wear, rehearse my lies in case she brings up the kitten again, so on. I’d also love to come up with some great plan to actually progress towards my goal of crashing her career, but it’s hard to balance subtlety and impact. I can’t just tell her to twist her ship’s wheel towards the rocks - she wouldn’t listen. Not in this current state, at least.

Exploiting her drinking problem seems like the best option right now. I don’t think she’d want to go to a bar on our date, though. What if I bought some wine for her as a gift and replaced the contents with something far stronger? Encourage her to drink it, then persuade her to get some more somewhere once her decision making has been impaired enough? Once she’s wasted, I could bring her to a public place, cause her to reveal her identity somehow and watch her embarrass herself in front of a nosy crowd! Maybe even trick her into saying something insensitive! Oh, that would be the scandal of the year! Or more like the week. With how Jess describes the current world, it seems that not a day goes by without some celebrity making an ass of themselves.

Yes, this plan just might work. The gears are turning again. I knew I’d come up with something brilliant sooner or later. I am HIS chosen one, after all.

Having arrived to my room, I lie down on the bed. Okay, I’ll need to find out where they sell the alcohol around this town. I think I’ll also need some ID. I don’t have a card… but they take passports, don’t they? Is my passport still valid? I can’t remember when it was updated last. That sounds like a thing my mom would make me do, and she stopped giving a fuck a few years ago. Damn.

But there are other ways to get alcohol than just legally. They may be far easier with connections, which I don’t have, but I do have a knife. No, threatening people to buy me booze probably won’t work. The carrot will do better than the stick - I’ll pay a stranger. I will have to get my knife to make sure they don’t bail, though. No one wiggles their way out of my deals. Tamaki knows that best.

Hm, I wonder how Tamaki is doing. I did pay him a lot. But I also beat him a lot. If he ended up with internal bleeding or something due to my pummeling, that might have cost him a fair amount. Though not as much as it would in Unova. Thank the Gods I live in a welfare state. It’s not how I’d build my own kingdom to be, hell no, but it sure is convenient to mooch off of.

Back to work, though. I needed to look for places with booze. I think ‘liquor store’ is the proper term. I’ll stalk outside those for some people that look like they wouldn’t mind breaking the law for a quick buck. Anyway, I suppose I should search it online for the best results.

I take out my phone and search the home screen for a gateway to that magical place they call the world wide web. That’s probably it, ‘internet’. Tap it, and --

A white window opens. Icons of different mon appear. Zubat, gastly, drowzee, omastar -- No!

My hand flings away the screen. The phone slides across the bed and quietly thumps against the foot end.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t now. That was years ago.

I squeeze out a sigh. It comes out shaky. The air of the room has become heavier.

I sit up and stare at the carpet at my feet. Gray. Solid. Interwoven yarn. It’s real. This room is real. What I saw on that screen was not. My hands - look at them. They’re a grown man’s hands. Not a young boy’s.

Gradually, they stop trembling.

I bring them close to myself and grab my arms.

I feel cold.

---

 

[canisaries]

what's up gamers this time things happen in this fic crazy i know right

rated... teen? i'm not sure if some things would warrant a mature rating, but i don't think mature when i think this chapter, so i guess rated teen for now. there's a lot of language and mentions of violence.

anyway let's go and yes that is a prism reference in the title

---

CHAPTER 8
Pallet Patrol

---
​

I swear, people are too responsible nowadays. It took a good two freezing hours to finally get someone to fetch me a bottle of fine wine and trashy booze from the liquor store, and the little sneasel had to haggle for a higher pay than I’d intended, too. At least he kept his end of the deal. If he hadn’t, then I would’ve been the sneasel of us two, but more in terms mauling than being sneaky.

I turn to the window again, surveying the darkness outside for any vehicle arriving at Pallet Town Square. Nothing yet. I hope she comes soon. I think the employees of this bookstore are starting to realize I’m not here to buy anything, even if I’ve been pretending to be interested in a couple of random books in the shelves. The bottle of wine I’m carrying is already suspicious. I had to remove the seal to mix in the vodka. I’ll tell Shirlee it was to test the taste or something. In case we couldn’t drink it together. I did pay a pretty penny for it - I’ll find some way to rephrase that - and a high schooler’s money is limited.

That’s partly true, anyway. I‘m no longer in high school, but my money is limited, even if the money my mother sends over is more than enough. It’s her way of ensuring the communication between us is minimized. Here’s some money, now shut up. Well, I’m not complaining. It’s a good system for me, and that’s the only person it needs to be good for.

New lights appear outside. Moving, yes. Dark car, long car, limo. Gotta be Shirlee. I slip the book I’ve been handling back into its place on the shelf and head for the exit. On my way out, I catch a glimpse of some red-shirted employees arriving where I used to be. Left right on time, it seems.

The air changes from warm and paper-scented to cold and damp. I shudder a little, but keep walking towards the limo that’s stopped at the edge of the cobblestone plaza. It’s clear I’m not the only one that’s noticed the luxurious black vehicle, either, as it draws bewildered stares from all those passing through the Square. What business would anyone important have in little old Pallet?

As I’ve almost reached the vehicle, one of its doors opens. A floating winter coat floats out. It spots me soon after and raises a sleeve to wave.

“Hi!” chirps the inkay within the coat.

Well, this is where I put on the mask. I wave back and smile, rushing the final steps to her and ignoring the growing tingling in my wrist. “Hey there! Enjoy your trip?”

“Yeah! Thanks,” she says, then gestures to the bottle in my hands, eyes big and curious. “What’cha got there?”

Why, the potion of career destruction, of course! I put on my warmest demeanor for this. “Well… I wanted to show my appreciation for all that you’ve done for me, so I got something for you.” I offer it to the impressed inkay. “Here you go.”

“Ooh...” She grasps the bottle. “Thank you!”

I should probably address the broken seal before she notices it, so it doesn’t seem like I’m trying to hide that from her. “Ahem, about that broken seal… I-I’m not so good with this fancy wine stuff, so I had to ask the help of an older friend and… he wanted a bit of it too as payment. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” she laughs, then leans back into the limo. “Let me just put it here so we don’t have to carry it around, and we can get going.”

Wait, what? “Um, aren’t we going by car?” I’m supposed to make you drink there so you’ll be blasted when we do get out!

Shirlee giggles, draws back and shuts the door - no bottle in her hold. “No, silly, we’re gonna walk! I don’t wanna just ogle at things from the window of a limo like some kind of diva, I wanna experience this town!”

Dammit! Well, I guess that changes that plan. But I’ll have you drink that poison yet, you’ll see.

The window at the front of the limo scrolls down. It reveals -- oh, piss off.

“Are you good to go, Miss T?” asks the bearded driver from before, that undying grin shining among the fuzz.

“Yeah, we’re ready! You can head off now,” Shirlee replies.

“Alright,” the driver says. “Have a nice date with your boyfriend!”

Shirlee gasps. “Georgie! Shut up! He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Whatever you say, Miss T,” chuckles Georgie as he scrolls the window back up. “See you!”

The limo’s engine growls, and the vehicle finally drives off. I stealthily cough from the exhaust fumes it kicks up while Shirlee waves the driver goodbye.

“Haha, that was funny what he said, that you were my boyfriend...” she mumbles, then clears her throat, turning to me. “So, what’s our first sight to see?”

I guess I’ll just have to give this tour on foot. At least there’s less of a penalty for making wrong turns this way. “Well… this, actually,” I say, gesturing around us. “Pallet Town Square. The center of the town.”

“Ah!” Shirlee rotates in the air to take in the modest, stony surroundings. “Ooh… yeah, this is way different from the big cities. Even Undella. This is really the center of your town?”

“Yeah, this is… this.”

“Wow, it’s so small and it looks like, so old, too...” Words one usually doesn’t hear in an admiring tone.

I scratch the back of my head. “I’m not sure why you wanted a tour of this place. There isn’t really anything interesting in this town...”

Shirlee giggles. “Because it’s your town, silly,” she says and playfully bumps her forehead onto my chest. Ow, there was a button there… “Of course I wanna know what kinda place raised a sweetie like you!” You’d really get more of an insight to my upbringing if you were to visit my basement instead…

“Alright, then,” I sigh. “We should start moving, it's just gonna get colder if we don't.”

“Where are we going first?” asks Shirlee, swaying with excitement.

“I’ll tell you when we're there. Come on.”

---​

Two days after the night at her hotel, Shirlee told me she could meet me again the next day and that this time she wanted to see my hometown. I started preparing almost immediately. I knew I’d have to give her a full blown tour of Pallet to make it seem like I was a ordinary local of the place. While I am a local, I’m far from ordinary and barely ever venture into town without good reason. Even then, I just use the same couple of straightforward routes I know and love to quickly get in and swiftly get out.

This is why I had to turn to my half-brother Abe, the map freak. When I asked him if he could show me some maps of his, he fell quiet and stared at me like I was a smokin’ hot girl suggesting we make out - extremely willing, but extremely suspicious. Nevertheless, he busted out his Pallet maps and told me all about the most prominent buildings when asked. Of course I only remembered about half of what he said, but I figured it’d be good enough. I wouldn't seem normal if I knew too much, either.

Abe was clearly overjoyed during the entire conversation, even if I wasn't any warmer than I usually am, which is not at all. He probably saw the thing as an actual brotherly bonding experience. Gonna suck for him when he realizes I only consulted him out of convenience. Knowing him, though, he probably never will.

I keep my hands in my pockets to minimize heat loss in the freezing weather as I lead Shirlee roughly along the planned path. For each place of interest, I share the few facts I remember about it, let the inkay ogle it for a while longer and then move on to the next one. It's rather boring, but at least when I’m talking, she isn't.

“We have a bunch more shops around here,” I narrate as the numerous neon titles and signs with percentages come into view. “The school kids like to come here on breaks to buy snacks and such as it's cheap and close.”

The mention of edible things make my organs groan. I turn to Shirlee. “Hey, you hungry? There are some restaurants here too. They're not that fancy, though, so…”

“Oh, psh, it's fine! I don't need any kind of fancy treatment. Just take me someplace tasty and filling.”

“Seafood?”

“Hrmm, we ate seafood last time…”

“Well, pizza then?”

“No, that's too greasy…”

I silence a sigh. “Subs?”

“Oh, subs sound good. Let's go there!”

“Alright, follow me.” I turn and begin to walk.

“Wait!” someone yells. A young girl?

Rapid steps descend upon the gravel of the street. Four tiny legs gallop as fast as they can, a bushy tail wiggling behind and two long ears swaying in front. That’s a sentret. It has a little saddlebags on its sides and a scarf around its neck. Well… if you can call what sentret have a neck.

It stops before Shirlee, catching its breath. “E-excuse me, lady,” it pants, “but are you Shirlee?”

Shirlee swiftly floats down to the little mon’s level, tentacles raised. “Uhh, keep it down, but...” She smiles warmly. “Yeah.”

“Oh my Gods!” the sentret whispers. “This is great! I’m such a big fan! And, and my sister is too! Oh, I’m so honored to meet you, and, like, I hope I’m no trouble --”

“Don’t worry, you’re not,” Shirlee assures, whispering herself. “As long as you don’t call the paparazzi.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t, ever! Those are awful!”

“Aw, thanks. Say, would you like a picture with me?”

“R-really? I-I mean, yeah!”

The sentret digs a phone out of its saddlebag and shuffles next to Shirlee. “Uhh...” The mon tries holding the phone out in front of the two, but its arms prove too stubby.

Shirlee notices the girl’s predicament and jumps to her aid. “Hey, Red, can you take a pic of us?”

Well, I have to, don’t I. “Oh, yeah, sure...”

I take the phone the sentret offers to me and snap a photo I hope is decent enough. Man, it’s a good thing I practiced this before.

“Thanks, this is awesome!” the sentret beams as I return the phone. “You’re gonna make my sister so happy, too! A-and she really needs that, she’s been so nervous lately because she’s gonna evolve soon...”

Shirlee’s smile changes. Hm? I know what that is. That’s a fake smile.

Just a second later, however, it regains its authenticity. “Honey, I wish your sister the best of luck, and you too.”

“Thank you so much, you’re amazing! I-I’ll get out of your hair... mantle now.” The sentret returns its phone to its bag and begins hopping away. “B-bye!” it still says from afar, waving its tail.

“Bye!” answers Shirlee, waving back. “Aww, such a sweet kid...” She turns to me. ”Oh, sorry about that. Let’s go get those subs now.”

“Ah, yeah. Let’s.”

---​

Shirlee keeps her gaze on the table as she downs the last bite of her sandwich. With the end of her telekinesis, the buzz in my wrist sizzles out. That sensation gone, the droning rock leaking from the speakers of this restaurant only becomes more prominent. Though ‘restaurant’ seems generous for this place. Looks more like a public restroom someone put tables in and scattered bread crumbs all over. I told her she wouldn’t get fancy, and I certainly kept that promise.

I draw my attention back to Shirlee. She’s been like a deflated balloon ever since that encounter with the fan. But why? There must be some reason I don’t know. Something about her I don’t know… and that something could be a valuable weakness. I need to get her to tell me what it is.

I lower my mostly-eaten sub on the tray. Shirlee had ordered only a half-length for herself, but I was hungry enough for a full one and figured this was an acceptable reason not to mimic her actions so closely. And I’m a predator, you know. Predators eat a lot.

I clear my throat quietly. “Shirlee, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” Her eyes meet mine, but return to the table after a second. “Sure, what is it?”

“Are you feeling alright? You’ve seemed different ever since that sentret left.”

“Ah… have I? Sorry…”

“Does it have something to do with what she said about her sister evolving?”

Shirlee falls silent. Then, she sighs.

“It’s… it’s dumb,” she mumbles.

Dumb means juicy. I lean forward. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”

“Eh...”

“If it’s bothering you, I wanna know what it is. Please.”

She stays quiet and still for another while. I wait patiently, knowing it'll pay off any moment now.

“I’m getting everstone surgery soon,” she finally spits out. “And I’m nervous about it.”

Everstone…? Inkay evolve?

True, I never did ask or find out otherwise… she just came across like a single-stage to me. I guess evolution doesn't naturally cross humans’ mind that much, anyway.

So… why doesn't she want to evolve, then? Is it bad somehow? Is there something wrong with her next stage?

“Oh, getting nervous is perfectly natural!” I comfort her, keeping my voice down as she probably wants this to stay secret. “But… why don't you want to evolve?”

“Wh… are you kidding?” She frowns. “Do you not know what malamar are like?”

Shit, I probably should know, since I claim to be such a big fan. But I don't know. So what do I say…

Agh, I’ve hesitated too long. I need to go with the truth. “No… sorry, I don't.”

“Well, that explains it,” she sighs, looking back down. Her face wrinkles in disgust. “Malamar are these… tubby, ugly, slimy, evil-looking garbage bags of… grossness. Nothing like inkay - inkay are small and cute and have happy colors and beautiful voices.”

The sleeves of her coat wrap around her. “Only inkay have any kind of chance at being liked by the public, too. I hate that I'm kind of contributing to that prejudice like this - malamar should be able to live like anyone else, and their appearance doesn't make them any worse as people. I just personally… really don't want to become one."

She stares into my eyes. “But I’m around the age where wild inkay evolve. Or the civilized ones that aren't careful. I’ve felt the symptoms that usually come. I want to eat more, I feel kinda moody, and most importantly, I’ve had weird urges to sleep upside down. Sometimes I wake up that way despite the tricks I try to keep it from happening, and I freak out and I gotta find a mirror. Every time so far I’ve been relieved to still be the mon I fell asleep as in the aquarium, but I can't count on that always happening. That's why I need the everstone implant. So that I can stop worrying.”

Huh.

I guess she does have more to her life than just her fame and riches.

Alright, time to ruin it all.

“So you inkay evolve into this… malamar by… sleeping upside down?”

“Well, not just sleeping. It can also happen during stress or other strong emotions, as long as you're upside down. That's why I dropped all cartwheels and flips from my choreography.”

I see. I see. All very interesting information. Very interesting indeed…

“Yeah, so, when I get that implant, I can sleep in peace,” she continues, a faint smile on her beak. “It's just that I’m nervous about the surgery itself. Anders and everyone else keeps telling me it's super safe, but, like… it's still cutting me open and shoving some pebble in. While I’m only one anaesthetic failure away from feeling it all. It's so scary. But I have to do it. It's gonna make my life so much easier.”

Silence returns. Well, as silent as it can be with a host on the radio announcing which song will be next and a bright lamp buzzing above.

I'm not sure how to approach this. I need to comfort her, sure, but what would be the best way? I don’t know what to say except generic, elementary shit, and I'm supposed to be someone she can trust… damn, I guess this is a downside of avoiding any meaningful relationships for so long.

Or… I do have one meaningful relationship. Could I maybe… pretend Shirlee was my lord?

I study the dejected inkay. Her big eyes and blue body are somewhat similar to His. Okay. So, underneath that coat is my lord, and He’s going to a necessary surgery. Also, He’s momentarily a female inkay and named Shirlee. Uhh, right. Here we go.

I place my hands palm up on the table, offering them to Shirlee. She gives me a puzzled look.

“Shirlee, hold my hands,” I say calmly.

She eyes my palms, then hesitantly places the clubs of her sleeved tentacles on it. The touch is wet and cold - something that would discomfort the average human, but to me, it's an even stronger link to the one I devote my life to. Briefly, I miss Him, but I brush those thoughts away and concentrate back on the matter at hand.

“I know it's scary,” I start. My voice feels oddly… genuine. The words, too. So unprocessed. Unplanned, yet planned at the same time. It feels so strange. Even a little reckless…?

Despite that, I continue. “It's not easy to just… release control of your body and have someone you don't know do complicated things to it while you’re not there to watch them. I understand that, it's a natural fear.

"But these doctors have done surgery after another. They know what to do. They know some patients are scared, too, and they're used to that. They're being paid by you and they're there to serve you and keep you healthy. If they didn't want to do that, they wouldn't have become doctors. And if they don't do that, you can sue. Sue them dead.”

He shows a bashful smile. I mean, Shirlee does.

“Anyway…" I continue. "What I’m saying is, you're gonna be fine. It's gonna go over well, and you're not gonna have to worry about evolving ever again. And I’m gonna be there by your side as much as the doctors allow it. I’ll be there at… hold on, when was this surgery?”

“4 pm, Monday.”

Monday? Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m gonna have to be fast. Well, I’ll get back to that in a minute...

I gently squeeze her clubs. “I’m gonna be there on Monday 4 pm and I’m gonna ease your worries the best I can. That's a promise.”

Her smile evolves to a full one. “Thanks, Red.”

I nod and let go of her tentacles. The disappearance of her touch creates a vacuum, a force driving me to grab her again, but it fades as soon as my brain reminds itself: no, it's not Him.

And it makes my heart ache.

---​

After I'd finished my sub, we picked up where we left off on our tour. For every sight to see, I shared some facts like before, but all the downtime I now used to craft and develop the plan to strike her down once and for all.

Now we leave yet another spot of interest, and… ugh, arrive at one I actually do have personal experience with. Its front-extending wings are like arms welcoming back its lost child. Its single clock-eye in the middle judges me, scolds me for not attending lessons in time, even if I haven't studied here for two years and no classes are held at this hour.

The high school.

Do I really have to come here already? Is there nothing else to talk about on the way? I glance around, but there are only apartments. They’re not even visually interesting, just chunks of white bricks and windows.

“Oh, is this your school?” asks Shirlee. Well, that eliminates any chance of a stall.

I inject some artificial cheer straight into my veins and turn to her. “Yep!” Oh, not that cheery, tone it down a notch. “This is Pallet Town High School for Humans.” Didn't always have that last bit. “The school I w- go to.”

“It's big,” remarks Shirlee. “How many students go here?”

“Something like six hundred, don't know the exact amount.”

“Huh… can you show me around?”

“Well, uhh…” I kick the snow lightly. “There's not much to see from outside, and they don’t like it too much when you lurk around after hours…”

“Oh, I see… well, it was cool to see, at least. What's your school day normally like?”

Looks like I’m just going to have to take this trip down Memory Lane. And by trip I mean actual tripping, because this is going to be about as fun as concrete smashing me in the face.

“Well, I… usually arrive at the school about fifteen minutes before class starts to make sure I’m on time.” Fifteen minutes late on a good day. “I hang out with my friends before the teacher comes in.” I pass the smokers outside, holding my breath to keep the fumes from attacking my lungs. If some new kid riffs on me for it, I grab him by his filthy collar, throw him on the ground and tell him not to do that again if he likes his fingers. Maybe spit on him, depends on how I feel that day. “Class starts, and I try my best to keep up and take notes. Eventually the lesson ends, and another begins…”

I don't know what the hell she's expecting to hear, really. School isn't exactly riveting for the average student.

“Is the food at lunch good?” Shirlee asks, her interest not crumbling by even a bit.

Guess I’ll just lie about the food too, it's not like she's going to investigate. "Oh, yeah, it's wonderful. Like a restaurant. You could take someone on date there."

"Date, huh…" she repeats. "Are you speaking from experience?"

Huh? "No, I was… just exaggerating a little there."

The sleeves of her coat coil together. "Right, I got that… have you dated someone at your school, though?"

Hah! That's a good one, implying anyone would find a suitable mate in that bog of a gene pool!

"Nah," I tell her, for once telling the truth. "I haven't met anyone I would've liked in that way. At school or otherwise, really."

"So, you're single then…?"

Oh no. Where's this going? "Yeah, I guess so?"

She hovers a little bit closer, tentacles coiled around each other. “Um… I’m sorry if this is sudden, but I feel like I should ask this now instead of keeping it in and letting it build up and make things tense...”

“...What is it?” I have a bad feeling about this.

“I was just wondering if you’d, um…” She pauses, takes a deep breath and finally forces herself to make eye contact. “D-do you want to --”

“Red!”

...Huh? Did someone just call my name?

Shirlee stopped, so she must’ve heard, too. It wasn’t just me. But who would even…

Oh no.

Shirlee raises a tentacle and points a club behind me. “I think that guy wants you,” she says. “He’s coming over here. Is he one of your schoolmates?”

With stiff limbs and a spear of dread piercing my heart, I turn around.

Indeed, someone is approaching - a lanky guy around my age. His hair is shaggy and black with a large, bleached quiff. By his side walks a bronze-coated ninetales. And the guy’s face, well...

It’s a face I’ve seen many times marred by bruises received from my own fists. A face I’ve seen cry and beg me to stop, but whimperingly accept its fate when I tell it that a deal's a deal and the terms were clear. And it's a face that's looking mighty pissed right about now.

Oh Gods. Is there any way to save this? Any way to avoid this? Wait! Maybe if I --

“Shirlee!” I whisper, pushing her by the shoulder of her coat. “We need to go! This guy’s dangerous!”

“O-oh, I’m dangerous? I’m dangerous now?” Tamaki yells, striding closer. Shit, he heard me.

“Red, who is this?” asks Shirlee, unnerved and to my horror, making no motions to leave.

“I’ll tell you who I am,” Tamaki weighs in before I have the chance to think of a good lie. “I’m the guy who was the designated punching bag of this fucking psycho over here!”

I turn to stare Tamaki directly in the eye in the most threatening way I can - maybe he still has some fear left in him. “Tamaki, come on...” I say through my teeth.

“That won’t work anymore,” growls the ninetales by Tamaki’s side, whipping its tails. “He’s had two years. We’ve both evolved.”

That must be Renny, then. The vulpix friend I saw Tamaki with sometimes. Fuck, another voice to the choir... I need to get Shirlee out of here quick and think of something to tell her.

I grab her tentacle. “Shirlee, we really should g-”

She yanks it away from my grasp. She looks scared. Oh fuck. Now I’m equally horrified.

“S-so what have you been doing since you left the school, huh?” Tamaki demands, arms raised and standing uncomfortably close. “How many felonies have you committed, you lunatic?”

Well, at least six. Probably more, I’d have to check what counts as a felony…

You should make three more right now.

My heart jumps into my throat. No, not you. Stay away! You're gonna make everything even worse!

How come? There's no one around and you already know how to make bodies disappear…

I feel denim against my fingertips. They're reaching for the knife that isn't there. I curl them in a fist.

You don't need a knife…

Yes I do! I mean I would! But I’m not going to kill anyone, no matter how… no matter how cornered I feel!

“Really? Not even gonna answer?” Tamaki spits. I was quiet for too long. “I would've thought you had a lie for everything.”

Look at his whiny fucking face. He’s so pathetic, and yet he’s acting tough. He needs to be taught a lesson. You have to kill him! Kill that little runt who's trying to talk back to a king like you! Wrap your hands around his throat and strangle him! Come on, I know you want to...

The world is trembling. No, I am. Oh Gods. This is a nightmare. Everything… everything is going wrong. This can't be real, this has to be a dream --

“You! Lady!”

What’s happening now? Tamaki’s turned to Shirlee? No, stop. Fucking stop!

“Get the fuck away from this guy and never look back! He's not safe to be around!”

Tears have formed in the inkay’s eyes. She looks at me, cowers away like a bellsprout from a fire and begins to slide away. The icy fear keeping me frozen finally cracks. I have to act.

I break into a dash after the inkay. I shout, I shout her name, shout for her to wait, but she only speeds up. No, I have to reach her.

My soles slam against the asphalt beneath, pushing me through the air as shadows from the streetlights emerge and withdraw - but the coat I chase still eludes me like a ghost, never getting closer.

“Shirlee, please, let me explain!” I scream, legs already burning. Despair was in that voice, real despair. The fear of losing Him. Again.

Shirlee flips around and slows her pace. For a split second I gain some hope, but it’s all gone as I see her face. She’s just as pissed as I should’ve expected.

“Explain what?” she shouts, tears of anger in her eyes. “It’s pretty Gods-damn clear what’s happened here. You lied to me. You lied to me about you going to school, and you certainly lied about what kind of person you really are!”

“But that...” Uh, what is my excuse? “That was all in the past! I’m different now!”

“Are you? Because you didn’t say one word of apology to that guy! And he was pretty clearly upset over what you’d done!”

I… I should’ve said sorry? Would that have made it okay? Well, more okay?

“I’m leaving,” she says. “Don’t follow me anymore. Don’t call, don’t anything. I-I can’t believe I...”

Leaving the sentence unfinished, she turns her back to me and accelerates again. I need to go faster to match that, but this running’s starting to get to me…

“Shirlee!” I shout - and that was a mistake. With that breath, no air was left for respiration, and my body stops itself from running. I want to fix that, start running again, but my legs are jelly and my lungs are rupturing...

I force my head upright to at least see her leave. Her figure shrinks in my sight, getting smaller and smaller until it a corner and disappears entirely.

My head droops. All I see is the stone of the street and the legs and arms of a failure.

Is… is this it? Is this how my entire quest ends? I put in all this effort just to be cut short like this? Just to continue being separated from my lord for… who knows how long? I’ll be alone and unhappy and I’ve already been like that for so long, I… I can’t do it anymore. I can’t do that with no end in sight.

I slip my fingers into my hair. The nails scrape the scalp. My breathing still wheezes. My heart feels like it’s going to explode. What an awful state.

And who brought me this pain? Who is responsible? Tamaki. It’s all Tamaki’s fault. He’s ruined everything. For no reason. Why couldn’t he have leave us be? What’s his problem?

He has no reason to be angry at me. No right. We made a deal. I kept my end of it. He should’ve kept his. No telling anyone, we agreed on that. He chose to accept that. And I paid him. It was a service! I gave him money for a service, and he took it! How was anything I did wrong? What gives him the right to punish me like this? Nothing?

...Or.

Maybe he...

Just took the payment in advance.

For his last deal.

Because I’m going to fucking kill him.

---​

 

[canisaries]

okay well this took more than just 10 days which it usually does to get a chapter done but i blame uni

rated teen for violence and language aight let's go

---

CHAPTER NINE
And Then Everybody Clapped

---​

I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna do it. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill the ninetales. No one is around. They weren't planning on meeting me. No evidence. They’ll simply vanish.

Gods, I’m actually getting excited… my blood is swirling in my ears, my hands are quaking with anticipation. Every step on the asphalt echoes for miles. The darkness makes way for me. The stars above spectate from afar. They know who I am.

Is that them? That’s them. That’s Tamaki, that’s Renny. Their backs are to me. They haven’t heard me yet. I’m going for Tamaki’s neck. He’s the one I want dead. The ninetales is just a witness I’ll need to eradicate -- no! What am I saying? I have to kill the ninetales first. Tamaki won't do shit to me, he's just a human and a pathetic one at that, but a ninetales has teeth and fire. I’ll jump at its neck, restraining both of those weapons. Its fur might get hot, but I have my coat for insulation. I doubt the mutt can generate too much heat while choking, anyway. Yes, strangle the fox, that’s what I’ll do...

I’m getting closer. Five meters, four, three, two, they turn around -- pounce!

“What the fuck?” shouts Tamaki. I’m squeezing your worthless friend's throat with both arms, that's what. The animal is twisting and gargling as the oxygen in its lungs depletes and precious blood flow to its brain is snuffed out. I hate how its fluff is cushioning the hold… but that won’t be enough to save it. I’m too strong and it’s too weak. I would've expected it to put up more of a fight, but I guess its vulpine leanness is working in my favor…

“Get off him, you fuckin’ psycho!”

Hands touch my sides and attempt to pry me off. As if they could. You're up against years of exercise, runt. Yeah, you take those off. Accept you have no cha-

“Fuck!”

I draw my hands back to yank away the fingers crawling on my eyes, falling over to the ground in the process.

“Dick move!” I snap, rubbing my poor eyes. Didn't take Tamaki for a dirty fighter…

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yells over Renny gasping for air in the background. “Why would you do that to Renny? He’s never done anything to you!”

Well, fuck. What do I say now? Nothing? No, I should try to give some good reason. A mosquito landed on his back? Wow, good one, that’ll work. But maybe I can say something that’ll at least make me seem less homicidal. Or vulpicidal, I guess.

“I just… wanted to knock him out so he couldn't stop me from kicking your ass,” I say slowly, sitting up. I can feel my ass getting wet from the snow. Great.

“Why? Because I stopped you from going through with some sex crime?”

“Whoa! I am not a rapist!” I shouldn’t shout back like this, but I have to make things clear. I have dignity. “Besides, I’m not even straight.”

Renny’s gasping switches to coughing, then finally to normal, if exhausted, breathing. The ninetales paces to me, claws clicking on the cobblestone. Okay, uhh, it’s looking mad, this isn’t good -- whoa!

I shield my face, but it luckily turns out there’s no need. The flame dissipated as quickly as it came. I guess that was just a fire type’s version of a spit.

“Let’s go,” Renny says to Tamaki, faint smoke carried on its breath. “You can’t reason with him.”

Tamaki nods, and the two walk off. A conversation starts once they’re further, but I only catch the beginning. “Did he really say he was gay?”

The ambience of the city soon overtakes any noises they make, and I’m left alone on the street. My heartbeat slows and breathing stabilizes. With every second, I feel colder, until it all crashes down on me at once. The stress of today, the loss I just experienced. I collapse back down under its weight. The cold, clear sky stares back.

Well, what do I do now? Am I just gonna get up and walk home and resume that painful existence where the one I care about most treats me like I’m nothing?

The twinkling stars above stay silent.

Yeah, I guess only I can answer that question.

---​

I close the front door behind me and nearly collapse again. The only thing preventing that is the sheer relief of finally being out of that frigid hell. The cold bites through damp clothing rather fast.

“That you, Red?”

Fonz’s voice. He’s somewhere near, but I don’t care to lift my head to find him.

“Mm-hmm.” I hope he heard that despite how weak its was.

“Good,” he replies. I can hear him get up and walk to me - and look, there he is. The big purple quill-backed kaiju with the jacket. That's him. Gods, I’m tired.

“Listen, I wanna talk to you,” he says. Ughh. I’m not in the mood for an interrogation, but I’m guessing he’s gonna insist on it.

I sigh. “Can we do it on the bed after I take my clothes off?”

“Uhh.”

“Because my clothes are wet, Fonz.”

“Oh, yeah. Meet me there, then.”

He leaves me be for the duration of my sluggish change of clothing. I replace the button-up and jeans with a t-shirt and sweatpants - proper home resting gear.

As I trudge through the living room to an awaiting Fonz, I give the sofa one glance. My lord's on it as usual. He looks back at me. I quickly turn my head. I don't even want to see Him like this - it hurts too much.

While I’m now warm, dry and comfy, I’m still exhausted, and when Fonz closes the door to the room I instantly fall onto the bed - ow!

“Ah, sorry. Must've hidden itself in the blanket,” says Fonz as I pick up the loose shed quill that’s pricked me and place it next to the water tank. I lie back down, far more careful this time.

“So…” Fonz picks up his quill-proof bed cover, lowers it onto his half of the bed and lies down. “I wanna know what you've been up to.”

I had a feeling you did… ugh.

“Like, who’s this new friend of yours?” he continues. “With the limo and all that? And where were you just now?” He lowers his voice. “Don’t tell me you’re involved with something… criminal?”

Actually not this time, which is surprising. I sigh. “Well, if it makes you feel better, we’re not friends anymore.”

“Oh? Did something happen just now?”

“Yeah...” I stare at the ceiling. “You know how I had some… trouble in high school?”

“Yeah?”

“This friend of mine, sh- he wanted a tour of Pallet. I’d lied to him that I still went to high school, to sound normal, and then when we were out, Tamaki from my class showed up… you can guess the rest. And now that friend never wants to see me again.”

“Hmh… was Tamaki the one you…?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah. I see.”

He’s quiet and I’m quiet. I guess the conversation’s at a pause. I take the time to enjoy the softness of the bed beneath my tired limbs.

“You seem upset about it,” speaks up Fonz after a while. “I don’t think I’ve seen you upset about what other people think… ever. Excluding Helix. Was this friend important to you?”

“Yeah, he was… very important.”

“Is there anything you could you get him back?”

“I… don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

Another spell of silence.

Fonz sighs. “Well, why exactly was he upset? What were his specific issues with the situation?”

“Hmmh… he was upset I'd lied to him,” I speak slowly, tasting every syllable. Fonz nods in the background. “I told him I'd changed, but he pointed out I didn't say anything good to Tamaki…”

“Isn't that your chance, right there? If you went to apologize to Tamaki and showed it to your friend, he might believe you really have changed.” He pauses. “Assuming you have.”

I'd say I had, but Fonz knows me better. Apologizing to Tamaki, though… “Good idea, except for the part where Tamaki absolutely hates me and would never forgive me. And how would Sh- my friend even find out about it?”

“Well, you have that new phone of yours he gave you. You could take a pic or video of you and Tamaki looking friendly together and send him that.”

“Eh, wouldn’t that seem too calculated?”

“Can’t hurt to try. And, well… it's the right thing to do anyway. Like it or not, Tamaki does deserve an apology.”

I grimace. I hate it when I have to say I'm sorry when I’m not. Which is every time, really.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” I sigh. “But I'm gonna be a dick to you when it doesn't work.”

Fonz chuckles. “As if you needed a reason.”

---​

It sure was a good thing that whole fiasco happened on a Thursday - had it been one day later, I wouldn't know where to find Tamaki. But as today’s a Friday, he has to go to school like every other student. That’s my target, and I’ve just arrived.

The high school looks much more familiar in daylight. Dark red bricks arising from the dirty white snow… Gods, does it feel good not to have to go here anymore. Unlike all these other people. Suckers.

But now begins my stakeout, which will probably end up making me the sucker here, given Tamaki can get out at any time between one and four o'clock. He was out late last night and he always tries to make it to school on time, so I excluded midday from the range. No way they've made the days any shorter after I left.

In any case, I'm gonna have to kill up to three hours of time, and that'll suck - but it just might get me close to Shirlee again, so it's worth it.

I sit on the bench next to the main entrance, at the end without the piece of gum attached to the side. It amazes me how people can call themselves moral and then do shit like this. Maybe I kill people, but I don't ruin a public space just because I can't be fucked to walk ten meters to a trash can. That's the real insanity there.

The school clock isn't sufficiently visible from this angle and wristwatches don't pair up with winter, but luckily my phone has my back. I click its screen alight every now and then, waiting for the moment of dismissal.

Before long, it comes, and I head further into the yard to have a view of all the exits. A minute or so passes without no change, but then a door opens. The first student leaves - or maybe’s she’s just grabbing some fresh air. Either way, she’s not Tamaki, so I keep waiting.

The rate of students leaving per minute increases rapidly. I check each face and hairdo, but none is a match. Same goes for each exit. After a few minutes, the flow dwindles to a stop. Doesn’t seem like Tamaki gets out at this time today, then.

I don’t want to spend the next 75 minutes out here in the cold, so I return to the main doors and enter into the lobby. Oh, the lobby… every Monday after school, I’d meet Tamaki here and we’d walk to a secluded spot… Monday was our day. I chose it so I could last the week with my bloodlust sated, and he agreed since Mondays sucked anyway.

I sit on one of the benches and study my reflection in the mirror wall opposite to the entrance. I don’t think I’ve changed too much in the last two years. I’d say the extent of it is just my hair getting longer and muscles a bit larger. Not that the latter's visible with all these clothes on, anyway.

Tamaki's changed a lot, though. He's dyed his hair and grown some balls. I wonder what caused that. Just dwelling on what I did for months after I'd left? Maybe he got together with that girl he was trying to impress. He did get a lot of money from me to buy her stuff.

Wondering about Tamaki's motives keeps my mind busy until the lesson ends. I return to my sentry spot outside, ready to run to Tamaki whenever and wherever he appears. People start leaking out, and… is that him? That's him, right?

I get closer to the suspect, getting surer of his identity with each step. He's got some other people with him… so he’s made friends, too? He's really pulled himself together.

He notices me approaching, showing his face fully - yep, that's him - and quickly looks away. Don't ignore me! I’m clearly coming towards you…

“Hey! Tamaki!” I call. That does it for him - he breaks into a run, leaving his group behind without a word. Psh, typical. All that toughness gone now that he hasn’t got his flamethrower by his side.

Careful not to slip, I dash and gain on Tamaki. “I just wanna talk, calm down!” I shout behind him. No effect. I'll do it the hard way, then.

Hopefully to win myself some moral points, I apologize in advance, then leap right at him. My chest collides with his back, tipping over us both. While he managed to break the fall with his arms, his grunt tells me it wasn’t exactly painless.

“What the fuck, dude?” he wheezes, squirming in my hold. “Get off me!”

“Don’t worry, man, I just wanna talk,” I repeat. “I’ll let you go if you promise not to run.”

“Sure, whatever, just lemme go!”

He might just be lying, but I can always catch him again. I release my hold and stand up, watching him follow shortly after.

Once upright, he recoils away, but doesn’t flee. “Okay, what the hell do you want? Are you just here to mock me?”

I raise my palms. “No, it’s not like that. I came back to say sorry.”

“What?” he shouts. He clearly heard what I said, he’s just having trouble processing it.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “I'm sorry for what I did two years ago. That was fucked up. And I'm sorry for what I did last night, too.”

Murmurs reach my ears. I glance around and notice a few students watching us, mostly Tamaki’s group - right, I suppose they’d care. Well, I guess this is one of the rare times when more witnesses are better, so I'll let them be.

“What do you mean you're sorry?” Tamaki asks, now quieter than before. “You're Red. You're never sorry.”

“I'm not that Red anymore.” I pocket my hands, faking regret. “After I left, I realized I had problems. With anger and such. For the past two years, I’ve been trying to work on them.”

“Lot of progress you’ve made,” Tamaki mutters.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just got really upset last night, cause, uhh...” Fine, I guess I gotta go with this. “That girl was really special to me.”

The frown on Tamaki’s face deepens. What, what did I do wrong? Oh shit, right, I told him I was gay.

“Just as a friend,” I correct myself, and I think he buys it. “But anyway… she means a lot to me, but she’s pretty slow to open up, so when you came in and told her about my past, I kinda freaked out. Again, I’m sorry. I wish we could’ve met in a different scenario.”

While Tamaki ponders my words, my ears pick up a few sentences spoken around us. The crowd seems to be growing.

“Yo, dude, look, something’s happening...”

“Who’s that guy Tamaki’s talking to?”

“Is that Red?”

“Dude, I think that’s Red. The psycho kid, remember?”

“Oh shit, why’s Red here?”

“Why’s he talking to Tamaki?”

“Is he here to kill us?”

“Oh my god, we need to run --”

“No, he doesn’t even have a gun, what could he do?”

Seems like reputations die hard. To their credit, I did have a few fantasies about slaughtering everyone, but I wanted to slaughter just about everything at that point in my life.

“...Wait,” says Tamaki, eyes narrowing. “Are you only here to get your friend back?”

Ah, fuck. He’s gotten smart. Hmm. Perhaps if I…

“Well, I won't lie to you. It is part of the reason.”

He sighs and turns away, but I interrupt.

“But that doesn't mean I'm not genuinely sorry for what I did. And I do feel guilty for not coming to make amends sooner. I guess I just… didn’t know what to say. But after seeing how much what I did really hurt you, I just had to come back and make up for it. Or, well, I know I can’t make up for what I did - it was too much. But I just want you to know I’m sorry.”

Dammit, I'm starting to repeat myself. I hope he sees it as a strength rather than a fault...

Tamaki pauses yet again. I can see people behind him… two with their phones up. Are they filming? What the hell? Is privacy completely dead?

Tamaki’s looking around too. He looks nervous. Camera shy? I can get that.

He sighs. “Red,” he starts, eyes locked into mine. “Do you truly mean all this?”

Am I winning him over? Yes! “Of course! I’m done lying, Tamaki. You deserve an apology. I came here because it was the right thing to do.”

“Alright, alright...” Tamaki says, raising a palm. He sounds… defeated? “I… understand.”

“You do?”

“I believe you, Red. I accept your apology, and… I forgive you.”

“You do?” I repeat, this time with twice the shock. The audience was taken by surprise, too, if the faint gasps say anything.

“I mean, people can change. I don’t think it’s fair to keep a grudge over something the other clearly regrets. And I wanna move past this, too.”

A laugh of relief leaves my throat and I grin. It worked! I won! I’m gonna get Shirlee back! Or, well… I might. Depends on if she’ll even look at my messages.

I keep smiling, though. Gotta keep up the illusion.

“You two should hug!” a stray voice yells. It draws laughs from the dozen or two spectators, but then the laughter actually morphs into noises of encouragement. ‘Yeah’s and ‘woo’s echo across the school grounds and finally switch into chanting.

“Hug! Hug! Hug! Hug! Hug!”

Ugh, I am so glad I left this place.

Nevertheless, I find Tamaki’s eyes and stare expectantly. “Well, what do you say?”

He looks discomforted, but finally abides. The other students cheer as our arms wrap around one another. Someone yells us to kiss next. I’d be ready to do even that, but it seems like things have already worked out. Now all I need is that picture…

Our bodies separate, and Tamaki raises his arm to the crowd.

“Alright, show’s over,” he yells with a faint smile. “You can stop watching now.”

Quiet laughs come as a response, followed by shuffling as the people turn away and scatter.

Tamaki steps closer to me again. “Can I talk with you in a more private spot for a bit?”

“Oh, totally,” I reply, foreseeing a suitable moment to ask for a photo. “I was actually gonna ask that of you…”

Tamaki leads me to the left side of the school, stopping his friends from following with a raised palm. I can't help grinning like an idiot. This went way better than expected.

Once we’re far enough away from the front yard, Tamaki slows down. I take it as an okay to start talking.

“So, this is pretty crude,” I laugh, pulling out my phone, “but could I just get one pic of us two together? It would really go a long way in getting me another chance with my frie-”

Tamaki turns around and pushes me back. I nearly slip.

“You've got some fucking nerve, you know that?” he hisses as I regain my balance. His face and tone are furious.

“What do you m…”

“Quit the act already! You're not sorry. And even if you were, I'd never, ever forgive you. Do you even understand the damage you did to me? It wasn't just bruises and nosebleeds. I go to therapy nowadays. You fucked up my life, and the moment my future starts looking okay, you show up.”

Psh, what? You came to me on that street. You're the one fucking up my plans.

“You come here and you get a big crowd and you put me up on the spot so that I have to ‘forgive’ you or I'll look like a dick and ruin what I've worked for two years to attain. Yeah, very clever. Is that what you want to hear? Are you satisfied? Or will you keep going till I snap and jump off a bridge?”

What is he even talking about by now? Are those… tears in his eyes?

“Oh, and still you keep that innocent look on your face. Like Tamaki's the bad guy here. Tamaki's the fuckup. Red hasn't done anything wrong because there's no proof. That's how you think, isn't it?”

I try to come up with a response, but I can't. I can barely tell what’s happening.

Tamaki straightens his back. “So, no. No, you can't have that pic. I'm not gonna help you ruin another person's life.” He walks past me, back towards the yard.

I dash after him. “Tamaki, please --”

“Do not fucking follow me!” he yells, stopping me. “I’ll call the cops on your ass if you do.”

But… I need to get that picture. Just one picture, it can’t be that bad! Maybe if I’m really fast...

I open the camera and run to Tamaki. As he turns to no doubt yell some more, I slip an arm over his shoulders, hold out the phone, smile and snap a pic.

An elbow shoves into my chest, blowing the air out of my lungs. My knees lose their strength and give out beneath me. I barely manage to hold onto the phone while I fall.

“Crazy son of a bitch...” mutters Tamaki as he speeds off.

I take a few seconds to breathe out the pain, shins getting wet from the snow beneath. Finally, I check the phone. Back to home screen, into gallery, latest photo…

Shit, it’s as I feared. Tamaki just looks disgusted. This is worse than no pic at all.

Well, what now? I have no proof that I’ve changed to show Shirlee. All I can do is say the same shit I already did when she ran off, and clearly that doesn’t work.

I sigh heavily. All this effort and no payoff. Just like this whole Shirlee thing in general. I’ve just been kicked around and made a fool of, and my lord still treats me like nothing. Should I simply give up for good? Lock myself in my room so that I don’t end up shoving my knife somewhere it shouldn’t be, and stay there until He comes to His senses?

Wait… wait a minute.

Didn’t people… film me and Tamaki?

Yes, they did! That means someone has a video of my apology! That means… that means I gotta run really, really fast to catch someone like that while they’re still near the school!

I wobble onto my feet and break into a run. Don’t go far now, people! Red’s on his way!

...Wow, way to give them a reason to get away even faster.

---​

 

[canisaries]

Seiren ain't dead just yet, fellas! New chapter! And yep, that really is the chapter title. You come up with a better one.

Rated teen for language, I suppose. I don't think there's even any violence in this.

---

CHAPTER TEN
Bottom Text

---​

Today I learned that girls really don't like it when a guy they barely know chases after them. I'm calling double standards on this bullshit - no way they would've screamed had I been a girl as well.

Hmmh… I do still have a chance, but it's a slim one. Shirlee’s going to have her everstone surgery on Monday at 4 pm, meaning I could go to the school in the morning, bully as many people as I can into letting me check their phone galleries, find the apology recording in one, send it to my phone, then send it to Shirlee with an apology, hope she forgives me and wants to see me before her surgery, meet up with her in a secluded place, kidnap her and do all of this without getting caught by any kind of authority.

The outlook is not promising on that, but I have to try. I suppose I should use this weekend to practice using my phone some more. And because I'll have to work with other people's phones as well, that means dark theme off. I grimace. More ripping at old wounds.

I step out of the hall and into the living room. Fonz and my lord greet me, and I greet them back.

“So how'd it go?” asks Fonz.

“Nghh.”

“Not great, huh?”

“Yeah. See me in the bedroom if you want the whole story.” It's possible he might have some advice I haven't thought of. Even if he doesn't, it's nice to tie up loose ends.

We enter the bedroom, leaving my lord alone on the couch, not that He would mind with Shirlee as company. I close the door behind the nidoking.

“Did he not accept the apology?” he asks, pulling up his quill-proof bed cover and setting it on the bed once again.

“Well,” I sigh, sitting on the edge, “he did, and then he didn't.”

Fonz raises a brow. “How's that work?”

“He accepted my apology publicly, and after the crowd had left, rejected it and naturally didn't let me take a pic.”

“He was looking after his reputation?”

“Guess so.”

Fonz glances at the clock. “Did that alone really take you this long?”

“Well, no. You see, I realized some people had been filming during the public apology, and I tried hunting them down… but I couldn't find anyone who both had the video and didn't outrun me.”

“Hmm. Well, have you looked online?”

“Online?” I tilt my head. “Why would it be online?”

“Well, you know how kids are…”

He pauses as he sees my expression. “Okay, I guess you don't, but my point is that a lot of kids really want fame. It's not at all unlikely that someone would've put that video on MewTube in hopes of it going viral. It's not every day you see a former bully apologize, and a lot of people would consider that uplifting. Give it an attention-catching title, and...” Fonz snaps his claws, which produces an unsettlingly loud click. “Instant fifteen minutes of fame.”

Listening to Fonz's theory spreads a warmth into my body. Could it be that easy? Could this be my chance?

I snatch the phone out of my pocket. I unlock it, and…

Right. I don’t have the app for that MewTube thing, and the only way to get the app is through the app store. But the last time I tried something new on this phone, it didn't end too well...

A shudder comes before I can suppress it.

“What’s wrong?” asks Fonz.

Right, Fonz, I do have Fonz. I can have him do it. That's good, but I can't lie, being dependent on others like this is frustrating…

“Well,” I sigh, putting the phone down. “I'm worried the app store will look like, you know...”

“Oh." He quiets. Then, he sighs. "It left its mark on all of us, didn't it."

I stare at my feet. "I don't know. Jess is online all the time, and my lord…"

"I don't necessarily mean just the PCs," Fonz says. "The whole journey. The whole… stress. Sure, I got out of the Safari and into the human world proper, and Jess got that fame and money he wanted, and Air caught the eye of the sports world… and Helix was born and got you." He nudges me with a claw, smiling, but his smile then melts away. "Anyway, while we got a lot of good out of it, we too felt the effects. That threat of erasure from the machine malfunction… I still get the shivers every time I see a storage PC."

He places an arm over my shoulders. It's pretty heavy, but there's something soothing in the weight. "So if that's what I have as just a bystander, I can't imagine what it's like for you. It must be really, really hard… which is why I'm so massively proud of you for already coming this far."

His smile has returned. "I really think you can go even further. First steps always tend to be the hardest, after all. But know that if you ever need support, I'll try my best to be there. Okay?"

I wasn't expecting that whole speech, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed by it. Just for that, I nod with a smile myself.

But that smile soon leaves, shoved away by another thought.

"My lord…" I begin. "Does He remember the journey anymore?"

Fonz sighs, catching my frown. "He tells me He's had nightmares."

Nightmares. He's not alone in that regard...

But that means He remembers. At least partly. I'd sigh in relief - but who's to say I'm even in those? If I am, am I good in His eyes in them?

Anxiety grips my throat. What if those nightmares were about me? My slurred speech, my twitching limbs, the orders I barked under the Voices' control? Is that the reason He's been cold to me? Does He only remember my bad sides, the ugliness of the possession? I could see how I acted being upsetting for just a young mon. Is He scared it'll happen again? Does He know the full story?

"Does He…" I start, voice wavering. "Does He blame me for what happened?"

Fonz flinches. “Oh, no. He knows it was the Voices. He knows you weren’t yourself.” He sits up straight. “I mean, He’s seen you take care of Him so much. You’re like a dad to Him. He just… doesn’t always know how to act around you. I mean, you have to see this from His perspective. Wouldn’t it be odd to be addressed as a lord all the time?”

Well, I know I’d like it...

It seems like Fonz knows what he’s talking about, though. He knows Him. He should know best what He thinks outside my lord Himself. Hmm. Well, I guess I can take His word for it for the time being. I should focus on this Shirlee stuff while it might still be possible to pull off, anyway.

“I guess you’re right,” I say. “I shouldn’t worry about it.” I pick the phone up again and clear my throat. “So, back to this… could you get me MewTube thing from the app store? I just really don’t think I can handle it yet.”

Fonz smiles and nods.

---​

With MewTube downloaded, I asked Fonz if it had a dark option. He looked, and it did.

“It’s on now,” he says. “You ready?”

”Guess I can’t get any readier.”

I shuffle to his side, wary of his quills. The screen is dark gray with pale red accents and houses colorful windows to the worlds recorded. Stress level: low. I think I can do this.

“Okay,” starts Fonz. “Let's try… ‘bully apology’.” He types the phrase in the search bar and taps the magnifying glass.

Thousands of results surface. The titles and thumbnails show different scenarios - ‘high school bully and victim meet up 20 years later’, ‘calling my old bully’, ‘mother finds out her daughter is a bully and you won't believe what she does next’... none of them match mine.

“Are we really gonna find it this way?” I ask, eyeing the long-gone dates of upload and sky-high viewcounts. Would someone really think their crappy little mobile video could rise up these ranks?

“Hold your horseas. Let's sort by latest.” Fonz taps the icon of three horizontal lines, ‘sort by’ in the new menu and ‘upload date’. The titles and thumbnails change, and…

The second result shows two young men in a crowded, snowy schoolyard. One has a large bleached quiff and the other a coat very similar to mine. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe that actually worked.

“Oh, that looks like it could be it,” says Fonz and taps the picture.

BULLY APOLOGIZES TO VICTIM!!! MUST SEE!!! (HEARTWARMING), reads the title of the now loading video. Never thought I'd have someone describe an action of mine as ‘heartwarming’. Unless I was literally cooking one.

The video finishes loading and plays. Despite the camera's shaking, I can soon confirm the setting to indeed be the yard of Pallet High.

“What do you mean you're sorry?” asks the Tamaki on record. “You're Red, you’re never sorry.”

“Yep, this is the video,” I say, near breathless. “B-but where does it end?”

Fonz skips to the last seconds of the recording. Tamaki tells the audience the show is over, and a moment later the footage cuts.

I clasp my hands together, chest burning in triumph. “Yes!”

Oh, but I'm not in the clear yet, am I - Shirlee still needs to see the message, and that’s something I can't influence.

“Alright, now let's send it to --” I start, but Fonz raises a claw.

“In a bit. I wanna see how this played out first.” He resets the video despite my protests. I lean on my fist, disgruntled.

The video rolls from beginning to end. My voice still sounds really weird played back. Less masculine than I'd wish. At least I have the looks to patch it up.

Fonz grins. “I'd say you handled that pretty well, champ. Especially the hug,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme the phone.” I nab the phone from Fonz’s claws, meeting little resistance. “Show me how to share this.”

“Just tap on ‘share’ and choose the texting app you use,” he says. “It's pretty obvious from there on out.”

I shuffle further away on the bed to keep the recipient a secret and do as told. Share, text message, Shirlee. Now I can write a message to go with the video… but what to write?

“Hmm. Not sure what to say?” asks Fonz.

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“Well…” He stretches and gets up. “I'm sorry to say, but you should know best what he'd like to hear. But as a tip, remember to be genuine and humble. And don't expect him to forgive you right away. These things take time.”

Ngh, I don't have much of that, though...

Sensing I'd like some time alone to think - and being correct - Fonz excuses himself and leaves the room. I'm left by myself on the bed, staring at the old text messages and the… what's that called? That blinky black line that appears when you type things. That.

Should I get straight to the point, or would she consider that tactless? I mean, I have the video here, so I will need to address that…

I begin to tap. I'm really sorry about lying to you and to prove it here's -- no, I can't say it like that, it'll look orchestrated. I've apologized to Tamaki and someone happened to film -- yeah, someone just happened to film it, I had nothing to do with that whatsoever…

I rub my forehead. Since when did lying get so hard for me? This is the same mon who came to a random fan's house in the dead of night to drunkenly thank him for such sweet words. It shouldn't take a lot to sway her. Or perhaps I’m underestimating what a few beers can do.

But what if I tried... that one thing again? The thing I did when she told me about her everstone woes, where I imagined she was Him. How I spoke with that was amazing. It was like I was someone who could actually connect, not just someone piecing together what they’d heard others say in similar situations. A lie so convincing even the speaker starts to think there's something to it.

I’ll do it. It's worth a try.

I close my eyes and think of Him. He’s next to the school, where Tamaki first confronted me. He hears Tamaki’s words, hears all these awful accusations, when He always thought I was a trustworthy caretaker. He becomes afraid. Afraid of what I might do to Him. But I'd never do anything! I could only ever protect! His stare is terrified, and it really shouldn't be, He turns around and runs away… somehow? But He can't leave, I need Him, I can't let Him feel like this, think I'm dangerous, pull away from my touch. He's disappearing in the horizon. I'll never hold Him again. I'll never get to be in His presence again. He's gone from my life and He's left a burning, chilling void in me, a bottomless pit nothing can fill and its edges are melting, quicksand, I try to run but the ground beneath fails and I sink to the darkness, emptiness that swallows me up, and I’ll never get out, never…

My eyes feel hot. Wet. Tears. Heart pounding. Gut heavy. I… didn't expect to feel this way. But I just… miss Him. I miss Him so much.

I breathe in. Some tears fall on my cheeks. Okay. Bit of a tangent. Let's just get through this quickly and professionally. He needs to be apologized to. She.

---​

It's the best I could do. I can't blame myself. If it doesn't work, it just wasn't in the stars.

It's too soon to say, anyway. It's only been twenty minutes. She might not have even looked at her phone yet… oh, who am I kidding, everyone’s on their phones constantly.

I sigh, tuck the phone in my pocket and get off the bed. I should go do something else for the time be-

Buzz! Is that a buzz? It is!

I check the screen - new message from Shirlee! Oh my Gods, it worked!

No, no, wait, it could still be her just berating me more. Shouldn't get my hopes too high.

I unlock the screen and peer in.

(16:39) Red. Do you really mean what you say?

Proper grammar. She has to be really serious.

Of course, I tap and send, heart beating in my throat.

Another message. She's still present.

(16:39) Do you truly want to prove you've changed?

What is she getting at? I do.

(16:40) There’s a way for me to know for sure.
(16:40) But are you prepared to do it?

She's making this sound dangerous… What is it?

(16:40) Promise to not tell anyone.

I would never.

(16:40) You know this thing psychic types are able to do.

It finally clicks.

Mind reading.

But I absolutely can't let her do that! She'll see things way worse than she could ever dream of - and while mind reading is a crime, it's nothing compared to septuple homicide. If she saw what goes on inside this skull --

Ah, but she won't, will she?

The seal. The seal on my wrist will block any attempt to infiltrate my mind. Though is it still even active? It's been a good while since its initial carving. I should refresh it, though I have to make sure not to dig too deep - I don't want it to leave behind obvious marks. If all goes according to plan, I won't need it for any longer than a few days, so leaving lighter wounds is perfectly acceptable.

Oh, shit, I should respond to her.

I think I know what you mean… and I'm prepared to do it. I want you to know the truth.

(16:40) Good. I could see you outside my hotel later today. Can you make it?

Depends. Where is it and what time do you want to meet?

(16:40) Hotel Evergreen. It's right next to the town center. Big white building. You can't miss it.
(16:41) How is 10 pm?

Five hours, that should be plenty of time to plan. I can take a cab there. I just need to ask Abe for the number and then I can order one myself, having got a phone of my own now.

Sounds good. Will we go somewhere from there?

(16:41) Someplace private. Even an alley will do. But let's be outside… I don't trust you that much yet.

Well, this just gets better and better… totally alone, no witnesses. The way I like it.

I understand. See you at the hotel at 10 pm, then.

(16:41) Yeah. See you.

I close the phone and physically restrain myself from screaming triumphantly. Finally, things are going my way! She'll turn hideous, He'll reject her and I'll get Him back. Everything will go right back to being how it should be. Perfect!

All I need now is a plan…

---​

The evening sun stares down at me, squinting with cloudy eyelids. Another mass of cold air rolls over me and sinks its little fangs into my limbs. I really hope the meeting in Viridian won't take too long. I may get sick.

I tighten my scarf, wait for the oncoming car to pass and cross the street. The cold sting in my nostrils switches to a cough-inducing smell of exhaust fumes, then back again. How does this part of town manage to be so cramped and yet still so windy? Well, at least I'm finally here. The place to get the final ingredient to my plan.

I read the obnoxious red-and-yellow sign over the dirty-gray concrete doorway. Thompson's Natural Remedies. Good, it's still here and in business. Guess the world never runs out of morons.

The door opens with a ring of a bell, and a murkrow flits out to the street. With its tired eyes, it gives me a glance so quick it barely even counts, then digs its talons in the satchel around its neck to produce a cigarette. It seizes the cigarette with its beak, freeing its foot to draw out a lighter and maneuver it skillfully to light the cigarette's end.

The cigarette lit, it returns the lighter to the satchel and -- oh, it's looking at me.

“Fuck you want?” it asks, cigarette somehow not falling from its beak.

“Uh, nothing,” I mumble and enter the store.

The ring of the bell immediately raises the face of the Unovan man behind the counter, Mr Thompson himself. The rattata of a man shines a sunny smile, one you'd expect from a long-time friend, despite the fact that we've seen each other exactly once before and that was years ago. I couldn’t exactly go out and hunt down a rapidash of my own, so I had to find a shop like this to get myself a pair of hooves for ritual firestarters.

Ah, dammit, I gotta stop spacing out like this. I think Thompson just tried to shake my hand but I was too deep in thought to react. I'll just nod to at least acknowledge his greeting.

“So, what’cha here for?” asks Thompson, still wearing his smile. “You look young. Searching for something to spice up a party, perhaps? Better your exam performance? Better your… other performance?” He raises a brow.

“Qwilfish spikes,” I answer, feeling far less wordy than him at the moment.

“Ah, gotcha.” He slides to one of the aisles. I look around. Herbs, sparkling stones and jewelry, dried mushrooms and wild mon parts. Hand-made price signs. An odd smell in the air - a chimera of a dozen individual stenches, somehow tolerable despite its suspicious ingredients.

This is one of those places that takes either cash or your entire credit card information. Sadly, I don’t have a choice. The more trustworthy places simply won’t sell qwilfish spikes - naturally because it can easily be used for nefarious purposes, but also because people generally just don’t want to use products plucked from ‘helpless creatures’. Add to those the fact that storing the poison in its original spike is one of the less sanitary options.

The customers of stores like these, however, are the kind of people to believe that ‘natural is always better’, even when the choice is between a thoroughly tested vaccine and a shiny rock that supposedly emits lunar healing frequencies. Ignorance like that is the bread in which mold like this can grow.

Thompson returns to hand me a plastic package of five blue-gray thorns. “Qwilfish spikes, for you. Soak the tip in a glass of liquid for thirty seconds - careful not to prick yourself or squeeze it - then take it out and dry it for next time. Each spike has about three doses worth of juice. Now, one dose is suitable for a nice calming effect - great de-stresser, will chill your mom out about the homework - and two is good for helping you fall asleep. Three normally knocks you out for quite a while, so I'd only use that when you really, really can't keep those eyes closed. Even then, you ought to pace yourself and not gulp it all down in a sec-”

“I know how to use it, thanks,” I interrupt. “What's the price?”

“Twenty-nine, ninety-nine.”

Shut up, you just mean thirty. Ngh, annoyingly much for something I'll only need one of… but His attention is worth the price.

Or you could just shove a knife in his gut and get the spikes for free.

If getting rid of Thompson was that easy, you really think he'd have lived past twenty? Also, fuck you. I’m still mad at you for causing all that shit with Tamaki.

“Got it,” I reply. I fetch the necessary bills from my wallet and tuck it back. Thompson takes the money patiently. Sort of expected him to nab it like a stray vulpix offered some berry flesh. “Now, keep in mind that the doses I explained are set for humans and not --”

“Yeah, thanks.” I store the package in my backpack. “See ya.”

“Oh, you’re really gonna buy only that? Come on, now! You came all the way here, may as well take a look at the rest of the select-”

“See. Ya.”

The unwavering stare and emphasized words succeed in shutting him up. I make my way to the door in silence.

“Thank you for coming,” Thompson half-sighs, half-laughs, that indestructible smile still etched onto his face.

As I exit the store, the murkrow from before slips in. I guess it works there. I’d say I wouldn’t like a smoke-marinated employee, but then again, it’d probably just drown in all the other smells.

Alright. Time to head home and gather up the rest of the equipment. Then I’ll get the cab and be on my way. I should be on schedule so far. Everything’s going right as it should.

Wait, I do still have the ball with me, right? I tap my coat pocket and sigh in relief as I feel the spherical bump where it should be. Though I guess I didn’t need it for this trip anyway… eh, no harm done.

I spot movement from the corner of my eye. A fat gray raticate is digging through a knocked over garbage container a few meters away. Must be either a feral or a civilian with no self respect. In any case… a great subject for testing out whether this thing still works after years of inactivity.

I sneak closer. The action awakens the predator within, the stalking persian waiting for the right moment to pounce, to kill… but my weapon isn’t teeth or claws or even a knife this time, just a simple ultra ball. This disappoints the predator, the killing machine that thrives on violence, but it'll get that satisfaction yet - once Shirlee is in my hands.

I think I'm close enough now. I click on the button at the ball's front, and the ball expands from its minimized state. The raticate's ear twitches, shit, I need to be quick.

I fling the ball right at the raticate and luckily enough, I hear it smack onto flesh. The mon jolts out of the container and tries to leap away, but it's too late - the ball has opened, signalling activation. With a red flash, the mon is drawn inside, and the ball snaps shut, alone on the icy asphalt. Success.

Of course a mere two seconds later it opens up again to let the mon out the same way it came in, and the raticate runs off with a screech. But that's entirely expected. One can't just go around trapping wild animals as they please - according to the law, anyway. All balls, excluding master, have to let the mon escape before registration if they struggle too much. Even after registration, the ball isn't inescapable, but the requirement for leaving varies between balls. If I remember correctly from what they taught in school, an ultra ball requires the mon to input a given combination of symbols to unlock it. Therefore intelligent mon are able to leave at will, but ferals and infants are stuck inside. That's why these ones are meant for more experienced trainers that would need to capture the latter two kind and keep them from roaming around unsupervised for everyone's safety, mon included.

But that's not quite all there is to it. Balls can't release their contents if there's not enough space - that would crush the poor mon, after all. Being fancy space-warping technology, the ball can usually transport mon past thin sheets of material, but if the ball is placed inside a safe, good luck getting out.

I do hope I have all these facts straight. Exploiting them will be key in tonight's operation.

I fetch the ball, return it to my pocket and head home.

---​

 

[canisaries]

two months later i have returned with likely the penultimate chapter of this... thing

okay so about the content: we're at the part where this rewrite actually goes over a scene in the old version that got a mod contactin me. so that's my subtle way of saying that this is a mature rated chapter rather than the usual teen. what for? well, the story's been hinting at it already, but on-screen physical and i suppose mental abuse. i definitely think it's done more tastefully than it used to be, but the subject matter is still there so yeah. also language but that's been there in previous chapters already

anyway let's go and i'm proud of that chapter title but not as proud as i'm gonna be of the next one yup uhh yeah enjoy

---

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Destruction of Public Property

---​

Hotel Evergreen of Viridian City is not as impressive as Celadon Hotel. It's still pretty, don't get me wrong, but it's just not as glamorous as the towering black skyscraper with golden-green windows. Instead, it resembles something from a much older generation with its white marble and decorated pillars.

Not sure why it's called ‘Evergreen’. There's not a sliver of green to be seen here. Maybe it's just to match the name of the city. Or maybe it's symbolic somehow? It's an old building, but it keeps its luster despite the time, like an evergreen… tree… no, that doesn't make sense.

Ah, the front door opens. And out floats a familiar winter coat. Alright. It's showtime.

I give a shy smile. “Hi.”

She doesn't geet back, only stares with absent eyes. Hm.

She hovers down the front steps, then past me. The seal on my wrist buzzes accordingly. Had already forgotten about that.

Shirlee turns to me. "Let's go," she says. Her voice isn't angry, nor is it excited… it's just quiet. I guess I should tone my mood down as well. Make her feel more comfortable.

I follow her as she glides on. She leads me away from the hotel, crossing a few streets, and brings me to what seems like an emptier nook of the neighborhood. Finally, we enter a secluded alleyway between two brick buildings and stop. I decide to break the silence.

“We’re really doing this alone,” I remark. I've failed to spot any bodyguards tailing us, at least.

“Yeah,” she sighs, and lowers her already quiet voice. “I mean… it’s illegal, after all.”

Illegal! Oh, may the Gods have mercy on our souls - we're about to break the law! Once that wretched act has been committed, we will surely have lost our innocence for good. We, the lost lambs that we are, now bid farewell to our sweet, pure childhood and plunge ourselves to the abyss of sin!

“Hey, don't worry about it," I say. "It's for a good cause. And no one's getting hurt. I'm fully willing.”

“Yeah…” Shirlee stares at the ground. “I-I guess we should just get to it.”

“Yeah.” I kneel, placing my hands behind my back. “Go ahead, whenever you're ready.”

“Y-Yeah, I just… need a minute,” she says, closing her eyes. She flips down her hood and begins to massage her mantle. “I haven't read minds since I was a hatchling in my brood, you know,” she continues. "We had no secrets before we also learned to shield ourselves..."

With her preoccupied, I can dig into the wallet in my back pocket with less worry for stealth. Between its leaves, I locate a qwilfish spike - one of three, better safe than sorry - and pluck it out. Right hand set, I arm the left with a minimized ultra ball from the other back pocket. Now I'm ready. Just gotta wait for the right moment to strike.

“Right, okay,” says Shirlee, opening her eyes. “I think I can do it now. I-I'm gonna put my tentacles on your temples. Watch out, they're probably cold...”

I nod. My heart beats even faster, spreading hot blood to my fingers and face. I stroke the side of the spike with my thumb, making sure it's the right way round. Only seconds remain. Only seconds until I can stop pretending. I bite my lip as my mouth almost forms a smile. Not yet.

Shirlee lifts her clubs. Their wet surfaces gleam white from the streetlights afar. “H-here we go.”

She presses the clubs on the sides of my head, sending a shiver across my body. They really are cold… but I need to stay focused.

Another sensation awakens in my wrist on top of the previous one. It feels smoother than the other. Telepathy must use psychic energy gentler than telekinesis, I suppose.

Okay, she looks down. And her… eyes… are… closed. Is this it? Is this the moment? It might be the best I'll get. I-I have to do it now. Now!

“I don't see anything yet, but h-hold on, I'm sure it'll --”

Like a striking arbok, my arm straightens and jams the spike into her mantle. She yelps, shit, that was loud, I really need to be quick!

"What --" she tries, eyes now widely open, but my motion cuts her off - the motion of raising the ball, clicking it to expand and finally, flinging it at her as fast as I can.

Only after the impact does she manage to leap back, but it's too late, the red light has already been freed. Right before disappearing inside the ball, she shoots me a glare of betrayal, of fury.

The ball snaps shut. I have to be quick now. The poison likely won't work fast enough to prevent her from breaking free, so I have to dive for the ball and --

It opens. Shit!

Shirlee launches out. She nearly smacks down onto the ground, but manages to start hovering just in time. She twists upright and faces me. That glare still sits on her face. But it doesn't matter. I have to try again. I grab the ball and --

"The fuck are you doing?" she shouts and holy shit, it's loud. Someone's gonna hear. I have to throw -- no, not throw! I have to keep the ball in my hand! That way she won't have time to escape!

I pounce at her. She dodges to the right, but her tentacle doesn't move fast enough, and I grab it! That sweet touch of the coat's arm in my palm, that's what keeps her still, still enough for a shove of the ball right into her forehead!

Pried off! Fingers pried off her arm - with telekinesis, I assume - but the red light is there! She's pulled into the ball, it snaps shut, now's my chance to guarantee her capture!

I drop to my knees and curl up around the ball. It twitches against my chest, but it can't open, it can't. There's too much flesh around, not enough space, the ball won't allow her to leave - for her own safety! Isn't that ironic? I would laugh, but there's too much fear. It's not a guarantee after all, is it? The ball might still try. Might make a mistake. Try to eject her straight through my torso. And how would that end up? A mesh of two creatures, tentacles slithering through one's lungs, ribs skewering the mantle of the other. Neither would survive. Only leave behind a mangled corpse, a corpse to betray the human's true nature, its final crime - and no one would give that bastard a proper burial.

Click!

Click…?

Click, yes! Success!

I can breathe. I can let my lungs do their work, unpunctured by any foreign limbs. Thank the Gods. Though I guess not those gods. Not anyone, really, as HE is too far away to help me. Whatever, it's a figure of speech.

While I shouldn't get up yet, this is still a relief. With the lock in place, it won't be as easy for her to try and escape, though it's still my body working as a meat shield that really keeps her trapped within. But it shouldn't take long for the poison to take effect. Once she's knocked out, she won't be unlocking a thing.

But are those… steps I hear?

"Hey!"

There goes the relief.

"Is everything okay here?"

I turn my head to see a humanoid figure at the mouth of the alley. Four arms. Machamp. Gods damn it.

"Y-yeah," I reply, slipping the ball between my legs and sitting up. "I just, uhh…"

Well, what am I gonna say? What would cause those noises?

"Sorry, it's embarrassing," escapes my mouth as some random automated response comes through. How's that gonna help? What ties together screaming and embarrassment?

While the machamp raises a brow, inspiration strikes, and I eject the idea before even thinking it over.

"I-I was watching porn."

Good fucking answer.

"The, uhh, volume was on, and pretty loud. Sorry."

The machamp narrows her eyes - but I think that's disgust rather than suspicion. She contemplates leaving already, but decides to ask more. "Why're you on the ground?"

"D-dropped my phone. Freaked out."

She holds a stare. Oh Gods, just please buy it.

"...Okay," she says. Yes! "Um, sorry for interrupting, I guess."

She moves along. I hear her footsteps quieten, then drown entirely in the hum of the city.

I think I'm in the clear. Finally. Though, well, one final test…

I grab the ball again and, having gotten up carefully, hold it out towards the ground.

Nothing comes out.

Yes. The poison's kicked in. She's unconscious and therefore safe to transport. I can finally leave.

I minimize the ball and slip it into my pocket. The seller told me a full spike would knock a human out for quite a while, but I don't know how true that is for inkay, so I should hurry home. Guess I'll call a cab again.

As I pluck out my phone and seek the number from history, triumph finally dares to creep in.

I have her. I have Shirlee. She's right there in my pocket, unable to escape. That power warms my heart. I won't have to play by her rules anymore. I'll get to do just what I want to do… and show her what I'm really made of.

A smirk suppressed for too long finds its way onto my lips.

See you in the basement, Shirlee.

---​

Oh, sweet knife.

Your blade so beautiful, gleaming. Sharpened with care to sever the fibers of flesh like a sickle reaping crops.

It is with great sorrow that I announce you will not get to show your elegance today.

I place the knife in the drawer, push it shut and seal it with duct tape. Ugh, it looks tacky as hell... I bet it’s gonna leave marks on the wood, too. But what can you do? I can’t risk getting telekinetically stabbed. All loose objects have to be put away for the time that she’s awake, with the exception of just a few that are vital to keep available.

Well, that knife and its brethren were the last ones that needed to be hidden. It seems I’m ready.

I sit down on the chair I’ve dragged from the desk to this wing of the room. I nudge it somewhat to make sure the adhesive putty I put underneath its legs is keeping it sufficiently fastened to the floor, and I suppose it is. I hope it’ll be enough to keep her from going all show wrestling on me.

Nevertheless. It's time to wake her up.

I pick up the container of smelling salt placed beside my chair, open the cork and hold it out in front of what hangs in the middle of the room, right before me - an immobile blob of pastel colors, held up by two belts hooked to the ceiling. The slightly worn belts wrap around the creature's glassy tentacles, balancing it in an upside down position. Her round eyes remain closed, though hopefully not for long.

I've taken off her coat and stored it elsewhere for the time being. I've plucked out the qwilfish spike and thrown it away as well. A round little hole remains in the skin where it entered, filled with and rimmed by dark blue, which I hope won't arouse too much suspicion after all this is done. If it'll even stick around, actually.

"Nhh…"

Oh, there we go! She's waking up! I draw back the smelling salt and twist the cork back on tight. May be a pain getting it open later, but it would be way worse for her to manage to knock me out during this.

I set the container down and stand up. Damn, do I look fine? Is my hair good? I wanna do this right, as I'll only get one change. Well, I could technically knock her out again, erase her recent memory and get another try, but I should try to minimize the marks left on her body. More marks, more questions, both from others and herself.

Ah, but back to the moment. Shirlee has begun to move. Her motions are languid, but they're definitely there - meaning I wasn't just hearing things.

Now, let's speed things up. Make a real strong entrance. And give my hand a test run while we're at it.

I raise my right palm and confidently smack the limp inkay right across her mantle.

“Wakey, wakey!” I scream, taking great pleasure in watching the squid squirm in confusion and pain.

“Aaahh…!” she wails, sounding dizzy and understandably so, as the impact has sent her to a spin. It tangles the two belts together, but they soon fight back and work to reverse her direction.

But as much fun as that is, we'd be here forever if I waited for her to come to a halt on her own. I grab the belts right as they've untangled, and her rotation stops, her front facing my chest.

Her blinking eyes flick around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. “Whahm I… whassuh…”

Finally, something clicks in her brain. Her eyes widen and she flails like a magikarp, trying to flip herself right side up, I'm assuming. A faint vibration awakens in my wrist - trying to help herself with telekinesis, is she? To her misfortune, though, it seems her lightheadedness and the poison still in her system are weakening her powers.

I smirk. "Don't bother trying to upright yourself. Even if you managed it, I'd knock you right back down."

She halts her struggle, squinting to see me better. "Red...?"

I spread a warm grin across my face. "Yes, it's me, Red! Your buddy, your pal!"

"Wh-what are you… what is this?" she stutters, now louder.

"Well, Shirlee," I proudly begin, "you wanted to look inside my mind, didn't you?" I spread my arms, gesturing to our surroundings. "Here you go. The real me, in my natural habitat. How do you like it?"

“What are you talking about? Let me go!” she hisses. So she's angry now, eh? Guess that spunk of hers won't leave so easily.

"Mmm, yes, I suppose I should explain," I purr, beginning to circle her. "After all, how could I expect a fool like you to be so quick on the uptake?"

She attempts to twist around to keep me in her sight, but the belts won't allow it. “What the fuck, Red? Is this a joke?”

I slide back in front of her and grab her mantle. I lean my face right in front of hers. Her flinch is the strongest I've felt at my fingertips.

"Have some patience, dear," I whisper with a stern stare deep into her eyes. "It is all about to become clear."

I step back, bathed in her furious glare. "Truth is, Shirlee, I was never your friend. You were right to doubt me, just not smart enough to stay away! So who is it, then, that stands before you now? What kind of --"

"Oh my Gods, what do you want?"

Smack!

"Ow!"

Oh, her blubbery body is so satisfying to slap. "That's what you get for interrupting," I growl.

But that seems to only stoke her flame. “You’re gonna be in such deep shit, you little prick!” she screeches, face turning a darker shade of blue. “Untie me now, and maybe I won't end your fucking life!”

I laugh, stretching the genuine reaction to theatrical proportions to rub it more in her face. “You’re gonna end my life? Please! I imagine that’s only metaphor, but my dear, I am the one who ends lives in this room.”

“What?”

I give a wicked grin. “Yes, Shirlee! I am a killer! A cold-blooded murderer! I kill people -- no, not just kill. I torture them, I slaughter them, and I eat their flesh! And I do so to please HIM, my lord, the God of Chaos, who shall one day enter my vessel and --”

“Are you fucking larping?”

“...What?”

She’s squinting. “You’re larping, aren’t you?”

“What the hell does ‘larping’ --”

“Listen, Red,” she yells, startling me, “you are not your character, and this isn’t a game! You’re free to express yourself any way you want in your free time, but don’t drag me into it, especially not through a Gods-damn kidnapping!”

I close my eyes and rub my forehead, trying to process her words. “Are you… suggesting that I’m only playing pretend?”

“Get the fuck out of your character and talk to me like an adult!”

“No, this isn't --”

“And what the fuck is this character, anyway? Some fucking edgy anime villain? No one's gonna take that seriously!”

“Oh my Gods!” I shout. “You’re in the basement of a serial killer, can you maybe act like it?”

“I’m not playing along in your little pretend-game! I know you can’t do shit to me, Red, everyone would know it was you!”

“No, they won’t! I have a memory-erasing seal! You won’t be able to say a thing!”

“Oooh, a magical seal, okay!” she mocks. “Lemme guess, that’s part of your anime powers? Something your spooky god taught you?”

“Yes, and HE isn’t ‘spooky’, HE -- well, I guess HE is pretty spooky, objectively speaking, but --”

“Ugh, what are you even doing all this for? And you trying to impress me somehow? Show off your acting skills so I can get you a job in the business? Even if you weren’t dogshit, I’m in the music industry! It doesn’t work like that!”

I bury my face in my palms. Burning heat reflects back. This isn’t going at all the way it should.

“Listen, lady,” I sigh, “I’m seriously telling the truth. I kill people. And I have proof of it, too.” I point to the cupboard to her right - or I guess left, since she’s upside down. “Those bottom drawers over there? There are jars with disembodied human tongues in them. I seriously cut those off my victims.”

“Oh, sure there are,” she scoffs. “That’s why you’re showing them to me right now instead of just telling me about them, huh?”

I take a step towards the drawers, but dammit, I actually can’t show the jars to her. She might break them and use the shards as weapons. I clench my fists. “I can’t show them,” I grumble.

“Oh, why not?”

I can’t give her the reason in fear of putting the idea of telekinetic weapons in her mind, so I just have to take this humiliation. “Nevermind.”

Shirlee humphs triumphantly. “I’m glad you’re coming to your senses. Now untie me, and we can settle this quietly. Neither of us wants this fiasco to go public, so I won’t even tell the police. That’s terribly generous of me, you know.”

I cross my arms and sit down on the chair. How am I gonna make her fear me if she’s convinced herself I’m actually harmless? How did she even do that? Is she that blindly trusting of her fame and the consequences hurting or killing her would bring? Or is the poison making her unreasonable? I don’t actually know what the side effects qwilfish toxins might have on inkay...

"Hello, I said to untie me?"

I scowl at her. But a realization soon morphs that into a sneer.

"No," I say. Just a simple word, but it has all the power.

Now Shirlee scowls at me. "I'm serious, Red! I have places to be and people to see. I have no time to waste."

"Well, go ahead and free yourself, then," I reply. "Shouldn't be that hard for a psychic like you."

She blinks. Then she gets to work.

Invisible hands - or tentacles, perhaps - begin to fiddle with the buckle of the right belt. Progress is clumsy and unsure, but eventually, the buckle is unfastened and the tentacle slips free.

"Ah, there we go," she says. "Now for the oth-"

Smack!

The impact sends her to another spin.

"Aaughh! Cut that shit out!" she cries, but her annoyance switches to confusion as her free tentacle is grabbed. Even with her struggling, the limb is refastened far faster than it was released. Her strength insufficient for physical retaliation, she settles for verbal abuse and calls me some names I’m surprised to hear from her considering her prior preaching of tolerance.

“If you’re done ranting,” I interrupt, “I’d like you to tell me what you’ve learned now.”

“That you’re a complete asshole?” she snaps.

“No, no, no.” I clasp my hands together. “I’m talking about the fact that you cannot leave this room unless I allow it. Any attempts you make to escape will be cut short just like the one moments before. If it starts looking like I can’t stop it, that your full powers are returning to you, I’ll just do what I’m about to do right now.”

I leave that wing of the room for the other, obscured from Shirlee’s view.

“Hey, get back here!” she shouts.

“Just a minute, dear,” I call. From the altar against the wall, I grab the rag and vial of yellow liquid I'd placed there before. Even if the rock above the altar is covered, I can’t help being overly careful not to look at it. I just really wouldn’t want to awaken HIM by accident right now.

I pop the vial open and pour a bit of its contents onto the rag, then bring the wet, sandy-brown cloth to Shirlee.

“The hell is that?” she says, eyeing the rag with disgust.

“Take a guess.”

“Don’t you dare put that -- mmph!”

The rag covers her beak. She wriggles, and I feel something try to move my hand, but its strength gradually diminishes along with the tingling it brings to my wrist.

“There. All powered down,” I say, leaning in with a smug smirk. I take the rag off and throw it onto the desk for now. Or try to, but it misses and falls onto the floor instead. Awkward. I hope she didn’t see that.

I clear my throat. “Anyway… if you could kindly start getting scared now, that’d be great. I may be able to keep you here for quite a while, but that doesn’t mean my patience will last as long.”

“What was… in that?” she slowly asks, words slurred.

“Sleep-inducing spores from a parasect. It’s what I use for all my targets.” I flash her a smile. “You know, my victims.”

“Vic...tims…”

She stares blankly at the floor. Something begins to change in her expression.

“Finally getting it, huh?”

She frowns in thought.

“This is not pretend, Shirlee. I am drugging you and hitting you without hesitation. You do understand that’s not the end of it?”

“H-hey… Red...”

“M-hm?”

She stares into my eyes. For the first time after her initial awakening, vulnerability is present. “L-let me go.”

“No.”

“Seriously, let me...”

“I will not.”

“If you don’t let me go, I might --”

“You will.”

There it is. In those big, pleading eyes. Fear.

“You’re upside down for a reason,” I slowly add.

“...Why?” She's so quiet now. “Why would you want to do that to me?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked,” I say, sitting back down on my chair. “I’ve been trying to destroy you for so long now that I think I could do with a reminder of the reason myself. Refresh my motivation and so on.”

I sigh. I don’t like the memories I’m about to revisit, but I need to make her understand.

“Do you know what the Twitch is?” I ask.

She doesn’t respond. Either she’s never heard of it or knows very little.

“It’s hell,” I say. “That’s what it is. A million voices just appear inside your brain one day, screaming in your ears and moving your body independent of your wishes, and they won’t leave until they’ve successfully piloted you through the Indigo League Junior Division and earned the title of Champion Trainer. Sound arbitrary? It is. It’s completely arbitrary. But while I don’t know why they’re obsessed with a dying sport and a meaningless title, I did know that it was agony. I wasn't the happiest kid to begin with, and there I was, stuck in an endless waking nightmare. Unable to walk freely, unable to sleep outside of losing consciousness, unable to even off myself to be free.

“Then something happened. Something that saved my life, my sanity. I met someone. Him. The omanyte, as you know Him. I don't know how or why, but being around Him, it felt so right. So right that it overpowered the pain. I could keep going. I felt like there was hope, a way out. And, eventually, I became the champion. The voices went away. I felt reborn. Alive again.

“Years passed, with a bunch of things happening, but He was always there. Even through death, two times already. The first time around, I felt like the world was ending, but I then found out He had the ability to reincarnate and retain memories of His former life, of me. It was actually HIM who told me that, and that was my first time meeting HIM, but that’s a different story…

“Back to the main point - the omanyte. His attention, presence and existence is priceless to me. No one but Him can make me feel the way I do with Him.”

My face darkens. “So how do you think it made me feel when, only weeks after resurrection from His second death - still a horrible experience - someone like you comes in to steal all the attention? Makes me invisible to Him for an indefinite period of time?”

Shirlee glances around, nervous.

“He’s been obsessed with you. Almost as obsessed as I am with Him. And that makes it all the more painful.”

I pry open the fists I notice I’ve formed and relax my face. “But now, now I get to fix it all. I get to end your career. He will turn to me. He will remember my loyalty, what a great servant I’ve been.” I smirk. “And I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t personal by now, so… you bet I’ll be taking great pleasure in destroying you. You vapid, irritating, thin-skinned little worm.”

“Couldn’t you just… talk to Him about it?”

I blink. “...What?”

“Tell Him how you’re feeling,” she says weakly. “Or did you try that already?”

“...No, no, that wouldn’t work.”

“Are you sure?”

I cross my arms. “He’s just a child right now. He wouldn’t get it.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes. Of course. I mean, I can see why you’d suggest that, but you don’t know the situation. You wouldn’t get it.”

But… I mean, why haven’t I talked to Him about it? I must have had a reason, right? A good one. I just can’t immediately think of it right now. Right! Now I remember!

“You see,” I add, “if I confronted Him about it, He’d see me as the enemy. That would just push Him further away.”

“D-didn’t you say you’ve known Him for six years? And you started off with some kind of difficult disease, and He was by your side the whole time? I-it doesn’t seem like He’d just abandon you for having an opinion...”

I...

I don’t like this. I don’t like this feeling she’s making me feel. I don’t like her implying that she’s smarter than me for thinking of this. She’s just a singer. I’m a priest. His servant. I know better than her. That has to be true. And because it’s true, there’s no point in dwelling on it. I have a job to do. A goal to accomplish. I’m not stopping until I’m finished.

“Look, what if...” she starts. Oh, no no no, don’t you dare. “What if you just went to Him and talked it out? Or even had me talk to Him, if He sees me as such an idol? W-we can still solve this in a way that doesn’t need anyone to get --”

“Shut up.”

“Red, please --”

“Shut up!”

Smack!

The smack is no softer than the ones before, but she only groans in discomfort. She’s getting used to it. Does it even hurt at all? Am -- am I losing my power over her? No. No, I’ll take it back!

“I’m done listening to you!” I shout. My hands form fists. They feel hot. So does my face and, well, I guess everything. My nails dig into my palms.

“You don’t get to talk to me like you know anything!” I continue. “You don’t get to be that way after you… after you force a phone onto me! I don’t want that shit! I didn’t have one before for a reason!”

“Wh-what reason?”

“Don’t try to be my fucking therapist! Don’t try to do any of your defusing anymore! Don’t… just don’t do anything! Except evolve! Just evolve already!”

“I-I can’t --”

“Then I’ll make you!”

I raise my right fist to hit. The ball of nails and knuckles trembles. Shirlee’s lesser tentacles reach for her face, trying to shield it.

But her lights… they’re flickering. What does that --

“Gah!” My eyes!

I shield my face from the shine. Something’s lit up, something burningly bright. Smears of rainbow dance inside my eyes. Is this some type of natural defense mechanism? Or could she actually be…

“No… no no no no!” Shirlee cries. Her voice is changing, getting deeper. It's happening. It's happening!

The light beyond my eyelids dims, then dies. It's done.

She's changed.

So, what's she gonna look like? Hideous, that I already know, but just how hideous? The worse, the better for me, isn't it? I'm almost too excited to look - but I know I have to.

I uncover my eyes.

Glimmering skin.

Powerful tentacles.

Fierce, glowing eyes.

But the face twists with agony.

“I know! I know!” the creature bellows. “There’s no need to rub it in. I know I’m disgusting!”

Three long fins at the end of the mantle. Thick tentacles above her face, like lavender-cyan hair, undulating with a fraction of their full strength. Vibrant hues, sharp beak, intricate symbol of light.

She looks… magnificent.

Like a form of HIS. Terrifying, powerful, yet beautiful. Otherworldly, yet familiar. Dangerous, yet I only want to get closer.

Her expression changes. Agony is replaced by realization. What? What did she realize?

Her larger tentacles - longer than I am tall - contract with force. No, don't!

Shnk! The hooks holding up the belts come off the ceiling. They clank onto the floor. She's freed. Oh fuck! Don't you dare --

A force slams me to the wall. Fuck, my back! I feel my elbows hit the floor, I must have collapsed. But I gotta get back up.

“No… stay!” I growl, stumbling upright as fast as I can despite my burning back. I can see Shirlee moving. Hear her moving. My wrist is screaming. Her power is far greater than before, but she's clumsy, bumping into the walls and furniture. She’s seen the door, shit. I need to stop her -- no, wait, I stand no chance physically, look at her! A predator of the deep sea! And I'm just a hairless mankey!

But I have tools. Items. I need the spores -- no, the ball! Of course! But she wouldn’t stay in, not unless I shielded with my body or the toolbox I kept her in, but the toolbox is too heavy and the flesh too risky, too difficult --

Oh Gods, you’re taking too long, she’s opened the door and she’s pushing the shelf on the other side! It creaks horribly, please don’t knock it over -- no, focus on getting the ball! Lunge for the toolbox, open it, get the ball, there! Click it -- no, she’s past the bookshelf, out of range! And you didn’t solve the problem of keeping her in, you’d need… spikes! The spikes, of course, they’re in the same toolbox, get them, yes!

Ball in one hand and the spikes in the other, I rush to the door and swerve around the half-shifted bookshelf. There she is, right in front of me! Pluck a spike - actually, two - and raise and --

“Get away!”

A glassy tentacle slams into my ribs, followed by wooden shelves to my back as the bookshelf breaks my motion. Stripes of pain set alight as I gasp back the air that was squeezed out of my lungs. There’ll definitely be bruises there.

But the pain doesn’t matter. I have to stop her. If she gets away, it won’t ruin just this operation. She knows I’m a killer now. She’s gonna tell everyone.

I scramble up, fighting both my aches and the lack of free palms. Once on my feet, I see Shirlee disappear behind the turn in the stairs. I dash after her and the awful thumps she’s making -- she better not wake anyone up! I may need an excuse later on, provided I succeed…

But thank the Gods, it’s looking likely! She’s barely a meter away. Just a step and another and --

Fuck! She’s pushed me again, and only a split second reaction to her glowing glare has saved me from tumbling backwards - jamming my fist to the space between the railing and the wall. It’s a weak anchor, but it was enough to stop me from probably cracking my skull, probably… dying. She’s not fucking around.

The door ahead opens - she’s reached it. She lunges for the darkness. No, in an open space she might actually be too fast! I yank my fist away, expand the ball, I have to make a leap for it. Spikes ready? Ready.

Strike!

The spikes sink in. The ball --

Slips out of my hand.

The edge of the last step rams into my thighs, and I barely manage to break my fall. But forget the pain, I need the ball back! Where is it?

Shirlee turns around. Her eyes burn with yellow wrath. She’s gonna attack with another psychic push -- I need to be ready! I lie flat, that'll help me, I’ll be able to withstand the attack! Now bring it on so I can grab the ball after!

I tense my arms and await the shove. But it’s not coming. But she’s glaring. My wrist is vibrating. What’s she --

Invisible claws seize my neck.

They squeeze.

Air can't get through. Blood thumps in my ears. My hands draw to my neck to pry off the grip, but there's nothing to touch. Nothing to free myself from. The compression exists by itself. It's inside, deep inside, down to the vertebrae…

It's crackling.

She's… killing me.

A flash of red. Her eyes widen. What now?

She disappears.

Free! I can breathe. I gasp in air, cough it out, repeat until I find some kind of equilibrium.

Shit, wait, back to the moment. What’s going on? What happened? Red flash, and now she’s gone… she’s been recalled. Did the ball fall on its button? No, that’s not important right now, I need to find it and make sure she says in! Where is it?

I push myself up to all fours and glance around, searching for anything spherical with striking colors -- there it is!

There it is...

In the talons of Jess.

---​

Spoiler: Chapter-related art

 

[canisaries]

Here it is, finally, after two years: the finale of Seiren. Only took a soft reboot to get here. But it's not over yet! There's still an epilogue after this to tie up some loose ends. (And of course Red returns in other stories, such as the infamous Hunter, Haunted!) But for now, here is the finale. I hope it's worth the wait.

Rated teen as always, for violence, language and mentions of sexual content. Enjoy.

---

CHAPTER TWELVE
Calamari on The Rocks

---​

The pidgeot’s golden eyes stare deep into mine, unblinking.

For five deafening beats of my heart, nothing happens. I don’t move, Jess doesn’t move, the ball doesn’t move, everything is silent. But on the sixth thump, his beak cracks open.

“What’s going on?” he asks. Quietly, voice wavering. He’s afraid. He might even be as afraid as me.

I should respond. When people ask questions, you’re supposed to respond. That’s how you let them know you’re normal. That’s what keeps them satisfied.

But I don’t think there’s anything I could say that would satisfy Jess. No convenient string of words that could get me out of this mess. Instead, I have to focus on salvaging what I can. Nullifying the immediate danger.

I lunge at the ball in his grasp. He lifts the foot, shit! Another try, but he hops back!

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jess says. “Not until you explain. A-and maybe not even then.”

Explain. I can’t explain. But I need the ball, she might get out. ‘Give me the ball’, should I say that? No, that won’t change a thing. I need… some level of reasoning. Some common goal.

“She’s crazy,” I say. “She needs to stay in. She tried to kill me! Y-you saw that, right?”

Jess’s digits tense around the ball. He recognized a truth. So he did see her attack me. Then why isn’t he giving it? She still hasn’t come out, there’s still time, but there might not be much more. Unless she’s already passed out…? I did use two spikes, but she’s a malamar now, much larger… I need to be prepared for the worst.

Jess moves -- I flinch, but calm down as I realize he’s simply sitting down. On top of the ball, like it was an egg.

“There,” he says, shielding the front with his talons. “She can’t get out now, r-right?”

I don’t know. That seems pretty flimsy. I feel like a ball could still transport past that. But that agitated look in Jess’s eyes tells me he’d claw my hands off if I tried to take the ball by force. This will have to do. I just need to hope that, in the case of Shirlee actually getting out, he’ll agree to recall her as fast as possible.

Some kind of stability now reached, I can slowly get up to my knees. I catch whatever’s left uncaught of my breath. Shirlee’s still not coming out.

“You still gotta tell me what’s going on,” says Jess.

Right. This problem. Jess knows something’s up. And if I can’t convince him everything’s alright, he won’t give me the ball. And even if I do convince him, he’s still going to have more questions. Especially when Shirlee’s evolution goes public.

But… I can make him forget. Just like Shirlee. I just need to find a way to knock him out. Quietly. If he screams or screeches or squawks, whatever noise he would make, the house would wake up, and they’d have questions of their own. Like ‘where’s Jess?’ Well, he’d be scattered across Viridian forest in small bloody chunks if I got to do what I really wanted, but he needs to stay alive. Just ignorant.

“Like, who was that?” Jess asks. “And what were you doing down there?”

I take a deep breath. “It’s… complicated.” That much is true.

“Give me the gist.”

“Well...”

Think quickly. What can you say? Why would you be downstairs with a malamar, hidden from everyone?

...I can’t believe I’m going to use this excuse again.

I sigh. “It’s a sex thing.”

Jess blinks. “What?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know this, but… I’m sexually attracted to the inkay line.”

Jess’s beak hangs ajar. He looks at the basement stairs. “So you two were...”

“Yeah.”

He looks at the ball.

“C-consensually!” I add. “That was just… to spice things up. We’re both kind of… different...”

“When did this all happen? Where did you...”

Uhh… wait, of course! “Y-you remember how you saw me texting someone named ‘Shirlee’ the other day?”

“...Uh-huh?”

“Well, that was a… ‘performer’ of a kind. She can play roles when she’s… um...” I clear my throat. “Anyway, she ended up accidentally evolving in the middle, at the heat of the moment, I guess, and freaked out...”

“And tried to strangle you?”

I clench my teeth. Can’t you just buy this story? You’d make it so much easier for the both of us. “Yes. She freaked out pretty hard.”

“And you had those… spikes on you?”

He saw that too, did he? “Qwilfish spikes. They were close by, and she really needed to calm down...”

He glances away, then back at the ball. “We should call the cops.”

“No!” Shit, that came out unfiltered. Too panicked, and Jess has noticed it. He jumps up and hops backwards on his free leg, eyes wide with fear.

“W-why not, Red?” he demands, voice wavering. “What can’t the cops know?”

“No, it’s not like that! I swear! Just -- please, put her back down...” If he accidentally released her, the consequences could still be dire.

Jess stops with a flinch, remembering the hazard in his claws, and reluctantly sits back down. I can breathe a bit easier.

“I just don’t want this to blow up,” I explain. “And neither would she… we can settle this without any authority. So we shouldn’t waste their time.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Listen, just..” I reach out my palm. “Just give me the ball. She needs to be put in a safe place for the night. Somewhere she can rest and get back to her senses. Where she can’t hurt anyone, or herself...”

He looks into my eyes. I stare as deep into his as I can. Please. Accept the terms. Let me free you of your mental burden.

He takes a deep breath - but he isn't giving the ball.

“Look, you can watch me do it,” I add. That’s how I’ll lead him downstairs. There I can knock him out.

“I-I don’t know...” He stares at the floor, tucking the ball deeper into his plumage.

Son of a bitch. This whole operation's going to shit just because of this nosy little pidgey. Isn't he supposed to be helping me? He was my teammate. A kind of friend, even. And he's been wanting to reconnect. Give me advice.

Maybe I can use that?

“Jess...” I start. “Please. This is important to me. That girl… it’s not just business between us. She might actually be someone I can… be with. Someone outside Him.”

He raises his gaze.

“You said I needed something else in my life,” I continue, “and this could finally be something like that. I really don’t want to fuck this up… any worse than I already have. So… please, just let me put her somewhere safe. For everyone’s sake.”

For a while, he sits still. The ticking of a nearby clock underlines each additional second he’s spent quiet.

“...Okay,” he sighs.

Yes! I suppress my delight, toning it down to a sensible level before letting it shine through. “Thanks, Jess.”

“Carry me there,” he says. “I wanna see where you put her.”

I smile. “Of course.”

Carefully, I draw close to Jess and shuffle my hands underneath him. Part of me expects him to tear my fingers to shreds after all - his eyes are still wide as plates from stress, looking better fit for a noctowl - but fortunately, he doesn’t.

I lift him up, holding him against my chest to cover the weak points of our fleshy barrier for the ball. Like any flying creature, he’s light for his size. I can feel his heart pound against my chest, way faster than mine, fast even for a bird. I should still be careful not to make quick motions.

Keeping an eye on each step, I descend the stairs. He’s going to see the bookcase soon... I better load up an explanation on the tip of my tongue. But not fire it too fast.

“Huh…?” leaves his beak. There it is. He tries to twist his neck for a better view. “Why is… has that room always been there?”

“Yeah,” I start slowly. “My mom lost the key for it and so figured the door was basically as good as a wall. I found the key some time ago, but decided to keep it a secret. Sometimes I like being alone. And, well... it was the only place private enough for our… affairs.”

He isn’t ripping his way out of my hold, so he must be buying it well enough. Good. I hope that trust stays long enough for me to trap him…

I reach the floor and soon the end of the hallway. Well, here comes the plunge. Once I enter the room, I'll need to deposit Shirlee very quickly so that Jess doesn't have too long to realize I'm not planning on letting him leave. Oh, hold on.

"Can you minimize her?" I ask Jess. Probably should've done that sooner, would've made her easier to cover.

"Ah, sure." He clicks a button, and the ball shrinks. I take the moment for a deep breath. Alright.

I open the cracked door and slip in, shutting it behind me. Jess already swivels his head around, taking in all the sights, but I march straight for the wooden toolbox on the desk. Still open. Still has the pack of spikes, along with the key to the room. I pick out the key to pocket it and lift the bag.

"Put her here," I say, nudging Jess. “And do it quickly, so she can’t break free.”

“R-right,” he responds. I quickly turn him around and he extends his foot, the ball nested within. But he isn’t dropping it. Why aren’t you dropping it, you moron?

Gods, he’s too hesitant. Looks like I may need to resort to plan B.

“Right here,” I say, gently pushing down his talons down with the plastic until it meets the tools. I let go and lower the lid of the toolbox onto his foot. “Come on, let go, she might get out.”

“Listen, I-I don’t know about this...”

He’s made his choice, then.

I slam down onto the lid, catching his ankle between it and the edge. Startled by pain, his claws open up, and I yank him back by the neck - leaving the ball in the box and throwing him onto the floor.

He screeches harshly as he lands on his back, but I can't let it distract me. I leap to the door and lock it as fast as I can, while he's still struggling to upright himself.

"What the fuck?" he yells, and I finish right on that cue. I turn around just in time to see him charge at me. A kick will protect me! I raise my foot, but his reflexes have quickened with his confusion subsiding. He hops back, but then lunges again for a snap at my toes, which I barely avoid. Dammit, I really wish I had shoes right now!

"What the hell's going on?" he demands, wings open in a threat display.

"I'm keeping things simple for the both of us," I say, tense. Maybe he can be reasoned with. "You don't want to find out the truth, and I don't want anyone to know. Let me wipe your memory."

"What are you talking about? How would you even --"

He stops to set his eyes on the toolbox. I know what he's going to do, and I slide over to the desk right as he takes flight. Grab the box -- no, his talons are out, instead wait for him to land and -- there!

His claws on the box, his chest is open for a strike, and I take the chance. My fist collides hard with his chest, specifically the crop, and he recoils enough for me to snatch the box. But I can't keep it from him like this, he'll tear my arms apart. And I can't keep fighting him - he's a battler, after all, even if six years have passed. I need the drug. The rag. And it's on the floor, still in the spot where it fell when I tried to throw it before. But will it have enough juice? I have to try.

I duck and set the box on the floor, sliding it right where the wall meets the side of the desk. I grab the rag and -- augh!

Cold claws grasp my shoulders as a weight lowers onto my back. Their tips pinch the skin, and I fear something sharper is to come - his beak. I shake my body to get him off, but he's balancing too well. Well, how about this?

I stand up straight, turn around and slam onto the wall. His wing bends wrong against my back. Crunch.

"Gaaahh!" Jess cries, dropping down to the floor. Wait, how badly did I...

My survival instincts block that question for now. I grab onto Jess's beak with the rag and onto his neck with the right.

He wriggles in my hold, clawing at my arms, but his reach isn't enough -- ow, nevermind, though that didn't sting too bad… all I need to do now is wait. He’s getting sluggish already.

But this rag is pretty dry… I should soak it again just in case. It won't take long, and Jess won't be able to move very fast if I really injured his wing, or even… yeah.

I move my hand from his neck to grab his feet instead and lift him up. The rest of his body dangles limply save for faint motions accompanied by whines as I carry him to the base of the altar, away from the toolbox. He's definitely not in the shape to fight anymore.

Eager to get this over with, I take the rag from his beak and grab the vial on the altar for a new dousing.

"P-please..."

He can still talk?

"Please don't hurt me…" Jess whimpers.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," I tell him, and it's actually true. "I'm putting you under, in fact. You won't feel a thing when I wipe your memory. So…" I pop open the vial's cap, sighing. "Just relax. You don't wanna make your wing even worse."

Having wetted the rag with more spore-liquid, I close the vial and crouch down to Jess. He flinches with the little strength he has left. As I'm about to cover his beak again, he says something more.

"Why… are you like this…?"

Like this?

I was always like this. Cold-hearted, as someone might say. But what brought me to this situation, the events leading up to this, my obsession over Him… that wasn't inside me before.

So this'll be your answer.

"You should know," I mutter. "You were there."

With that, I muzzle the beak of my beloved former ace, and don't let go until he's gone completely limp.

---​

I didn't sleep well that night.

Things had gone smoothly after Jess was knocked out, yes. I’d released Shirlee to check whether she was still awake or not, rag drenched and ready to pacify her, and to my great relief, the spikes had done their job. Wanting to play it safe, I kept the rag on her beak for a little longer before moving on to carving the seals.

Nothing had gone wrong there, either. While the carving was far more difficult for Jess given his plumage, I managed to draw on the skin between his feathers. After finishing the sigil with no slips of my hand, the symbol had glowed to let me know the erasure had been successful. The same went for Shirlee - though in her case, I of course set the time frame to be several hours instead of simply one. She needed to forget the end of our alley meetup as well, after all.

But all this luck couldn't shelter me from the storm of worry that ravaged my brain each moment spent lying awake. The fact stood that I'd injured Jess's wing somehow, possibly even broken it, and something like that wouldn’t go unnoticed. Sure, there was nothing tying me to that injury - I even checked for stray hairs of mine on his body - but it's guaranteed to cause a stir. And stirs put everyone on high alert. That's never good.

There's also the risk of them finding the wounds on their bodies and getting curious. Like I said, nothing ties those to me - unless Jess and Shirlee were to somehow meet up and tell each other about their similar wounds and connect them to me since I'm the only contact they share - but it'll still make them look for answers. I just have to hope that the numbing gel masks the sting long enough and that Shirlee doesn't find a way to clearly look at what's inside of her mantle lining. Same for Jess, but with the back of his head. At least the feathers cover it. Though if his wing really is broken or otherwise hurts enough to warrant a hospital visit, someone there might examine him thoroughly and find the seal for him...

But I guess I can ruminate on all this later. Right now, I have one last step to take in my plan.

I approach the toolbox sitting on the training room's floor. Well, training-slash-storage. One half of the room is dedicated to random crap never moved, while the other half actually sees use - its training mats and weights are what I use to keep up this toned body of mine. HE would settle for nothing less, but I have to admit that I do take pride and pleasure in looking so damn good.

Maybe that's what kept Shirlee coming back, too. It's strange that a cephalopod would have human notions of attractiveness, but maybe commercials and movies really are that powerful. For fools like her, at least.

I frown. It's that same culture that makes her think this new form of hers is abhorrent. While her suffering does not bother me, the misguided basis for it does.

But I can't convince her out of it. I need her to believe this lie. Otherwise she might spread the truth to the masses, and then her career wouldn't sink after all - it might reach new heights, in fact.

Oh well. It's no news to me that this world is upside down. Before I get the power to rectify it, I just have to play along.

I crouch and open the toolbox. The ultra ball lies within like before, but the spikes and key I've moved elsewhere for the time being. Careful not to accidentally put my hand over the ball mid-release, I slowly grab it and lift it out. It doesn’t seem like she’s coming out, though. She might still be knocked out - or asleep. Last night was rough on her, and evolution likely takes a good amount of energy out of you in general.

I de-minimize the ball, aim it at the mattress in front of me and click the button for release. Not full release, though, as I’ll later have to smuggle her out of the house unnoticed. I can unregister her after that.

The ball opens and, through a stream of light, a malamar appears on the mattress. Limp. Guess I was right and she wasn’t staying in just to sulk or something. Unfortunately this means I’ll have to sit through more of it. But maybe I’ll get some trademark sadistic joy of mine from it, who knows?

I sigh. Let’s just get this over with.

I pick up the container of smelling salts I’d stashed in the toolbox as well and hover the open container near her beak. Soon enough, her eyelids start twitching. Okay, this is it. Remember the story.

I clear my throat and take a seat on the nearby stool. Shirlee’s motions start getting stronger. She knots her brow… or is it more like her chin? She’s using it like a brow, but she’s upside down, right? Or is this form actually the one that’s right side up? This really is a strange family of mon.

She grunts in discomfort, eyes still closed. She squirms just a bit.

“Shirlee?” I quietly ask.

“Mrmhh...” The tentacles atop her head coil. Her eyelids waver, then separate. “Wait… where...”

My wrist tingles, and the reason soon becomes clear - she’s trying to lift herself up, though with poor success. Her puzzled expression shows that she knows something’s off. She struggles for a while, maybe hoping it’ll ward off… until her squinted eyes widen in horror.

She splats right down onto the mattress and brings her clubs to her face. “Oh Gods, am I… did I...”

“Yeah.” I pause. I guess I should say it. “I'm sorry.”

She stays still, only staring at her clubs with eyes like vinyl discs. Her brain must be collapsing on itself.

“What did you do?” she snaps, catching me off guard.

“I -- whoa, I didn’t do anything,” I respond, scrambling to enter the story I’ve weaved. “I found you like this.”

“What do you mean, ‘found me’?”

Oh, this is a quick pace. I better keep up. “You were near passed out on a street. How much do you remember?”

Shirlee looks pissed, but she’s not trying to break my neck, so I guess she’s trusting me to some extent. “I… I remember you were an asshole,” she says. “And I left you…”

Left me? That’s what you say about boyfriends. Did she really think we were an item?

“B-but then you texted me and I saw your a-apology to your friend and I agreed to see you...” she continues. “And then I don’t remember.”

The seal did its job. I knew it would, but it’s still relieving to have it confirmed.

“Wh-what happened?” she asks, voice now weaker.

“Well...” I sigh, avoiding her looks. “We did meet up, and you did look into my mind… but I guess you didn’t like what you saw. So you left, still pissed at me, but you didn’t head back towards the hotel. I asked you where you were going, and you said you needed a drink. I didn’t follow, but I did stick around in the city to get more out of my trip, and an hour or two later I spotted someone with a coat just like yours struggling to hover outside a bar. I decided to check, and… it was you, since you recognized me. Just…” I gesture at her and sigh. “Different. I guess that’d happened to you somehow.”

She looks at her clubs again and whimpers. “Oh Gods, this can’t be real...”

Then her eyes sharpen again. They glare at me. What?

“Where the hell am I now, then?” she demands.

“Uhh, my house.”

“How did you bring me here? Did you carry me, or -- you better have carried me --”

“Uhh, I...” Yeah, I didn’t expect her to find the idea that comfortable. I produce the ultra ball from my pocket, feigning shame. “Sorry.”

“You…!”

My wrist tingles again. Oh shit, is she gonna throw something? I need to calm her down.

I drop the ball and raise my palms. “I-I figured you didn’t wanna be seen like that by the public or some paparazzo! And… well, your new form is a lot bigger. I wouldn’t be able to carry that.”

“How the fuck would they have even known it was me?” she screams, prompting more suppressing gestures from me - this room isn’t soundproof like its hidden neighbor. “I'm a malamar! A big, ugly…” She sniffs, tears forming in her eyes. “I'm so fucking ugly.”

You’re not. You’re beautiful, mesmerizing, terrifying. A masterpiece sculpted by the currents of the deep sea. I would be thrilled to have a body as powerful and deadly as that.

But I just can't tell you that. I have to look away in second-hand shame. It feels slimy, even for me.

“Where’s my phone?” she mumbles.

“Oh, that's in your coat.” I fetch the coat I'd left on the floor and bring it to her. She digs out the phone, turns it on and soon begins to tap.

“That's a lot of missed calls…” she sighs. “Anders is gonna fuckin’ lose it when he hears about this…”

Nevertheless, she starts a call. After a few doots of no response, the other end picks up.

“Where the hell are you?” snaps a male voice.

“Pallet, but --”

She can't even finish the sentence before a tidal wave of expletives rolls her way. What a lovely person that manager is. Somehow, though, she manages to cleave through the continuous mass of insults and complaints with one quickly uttered pair of words.

“I evolved.”

The line goes dead silent. So does the whole room. The only motion seen are the tears inching down along Shirlee's cheek.

“You evolved?” the voice finally asks. It's eerily calm.

“Yeah.” She sniffles.

A pause.

“You said you were in Pallet, right?” the voice says.

Shirlee blinks. “Uh-huh.”

“Koratta Row 13 again?”

“Fourteen,” I correct.

“Fourteen,” Shirlee repeats. “But yeah.”

“Okay. Someone'll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Okay.”

“...Don't be seen.”

The call ended before Shirlee could reply.

Her tentacle goes limp, flopping down onto the bed along with the phone.

“I guess that's it,” she sighs. “My career's over.”

She stares blankly at the floor. But then, without warning, she looks at me.

“Listen, um...” she begins. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. You were just trying to help."

Accepting the story? Good. "It's alright," I say. "You were just upset."

"And…" She sighs. "Sorry for doubting you, too. Regarding your past. It's clear that you've changed from whatever you were years ago… and I can understand you wanting to hide your past."

Oh. Well, that's nice. But it's a little too late. "Thanks," I reply anyway.

"So, with all that cleared up…" Her eyes light up, just a little, and she gives me a pleading gaze. "Could we… still be friends?"

Oof. Yeah. About that.

"Listen…" I start.

She already winces.

"I've been thinking, and I don't think it's gonna work out."

"What… do you mean?" she asks faintly, almost whispering.

Her wanting to patch things up will make this a little harder, but I'm sure I can still make this work. "I mean… when you read my mind last night, you rejected me. You couldn't accept my past. You saw that I'd changed, but you didn't forgive me. I don't think I can be friends with someone who can't see past my former self."

"But I…" Her eyes water again. "I-I want to forgive you now! I don't care about your past! I'm sure I-I made a mistake --"

“No,” I interrupt, “you showed me how you really feel. And even here, the first thing you did when you woke up was to yell at me. It’s clear that you don’t like me.”

She leans forward on her tentacles, as if she was begging on hands and knees. “No! I-I was just upset at being evolved! I'm sorry I snapped at you!”

Hmph. Of course she’s trying her hardest to win me back now. Crawling back to the only one that saw beyond her fame. Predictable.

I cross my arms, shaking my head. “Don't bother. I’ve made up my mind. It’s better for us both to go our separate ways.”

“No, please --”

This isn’t going anywhere. I need to put my foot down. “I’ve made up my mind,” I say, voice raised. “As soon as your ride gets here, I want you out.”

Her expression freezes. Wide eyes, beak ajar. If she had a lower lip, it would be quivering.

But then, a scowl. A face befitting of her body. Maybe too much. Too much like last night.

A buzz in the wrist, oh fuck!

She recoils a bit at my sudden motion to cover my throat. In confusion. She wasn't going for the neck? Then what?

As her glower regains its strength, my question is answered - a rectangle slides out of my pocket.

"Wh- hey!" I'm relieved she's not trying to kill me, but what the hell, that's mine!

She levitates the phone to her faster than I can catch it. Face still wrinkled in anger, she begins to tap.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask, getting up, but a firm push knocks me back. Not that I let it keep me down for long, but dammit, she does it again!

"Payback," she says. "Of course your passcode is still the same," she adds in a mutter.

Payback? What does she mean by that? I'd love to stop it, whatever it is, but she's… making sure I stay in my seat with… these damn shoves!

Oh fuck, I really hope she isn't planning on sending my lord anything bad -- wait, no, I don't have His number on there. It never came up. Well, that's good… but I still want that phone back. I was starting to make progress with it. It might actually help me overcome my fear, open up whole new opportunities, give me more substance to my life --

"Ugh!" she groans. "Where the fuck is your Chatter? Do you not have one?" She taps and swipes some more, then --

"Knew it, isn't even downloaded. Are you some kind of fossil?"

I can't answer her question, whatever it was, because I'm frozen by the screen she's showing. White.

"What, what's with that look?" she asks, then sneers. "Oh, what, light theme hurting your poor little eyeballs?"

Icons on the screen. Zubat, gastly, drowzee, omastar, nidoking, pidgeot, lapras, more, more, they're all there. Everybody. They're all in there. Trapped. I have to get them out, get Him out, before something happens, but to get them out, I have to…

But I can't move. I can't decide how I move and when, that's what they do. The ones screaming, laughing, demanding. The ones making me do all this, just for their entertainment. Or I don't know what they want. There's too many of them to listen, too much noise to think.

The hand raises, and it reaches for the mouse. No, no -- or yes? This is how I can get them out -- but maybe they'd be safer inside, inside no one can touch them, though even if someone did it wouldn't matter because this only happens to me, it only happens to me and no one else sees, they -- the demons, these monsters, they make it so no one sees, no one hears, no one remembers unless they want them to and they allow it to… to progress on my path, but then they're also the ones always holding me back, walking the same steps over and over, going to these… hell-machines and --

Doing this, doing exactly this. The mouse has hit my hand, my trembling hand. The cursor shakes, approaches the omastar, enters His area -- oh Gods, no, or yes, I need Him out but what if I...

Click.

Oh Gods. There it is, low on the menu that's popped up. Release. It looks so innocent, that word, but it's a liar. It's death. It means death.

But there's also Withdraw, higher up. Withdraw means freedom. Or not directly, but it's a necessary part. Withdraw and log off. Take the balls and walk away. That's how you can save them. That's how no one dies, and that's how you can progress.

The cursor's moving down, towards Withdraw. Soon… there! It's on Withdraw! Click! Click now! Please…

They aren't clicking.

They're dragging the cursor down. No. Not there. Not to Release. Not Him, please, not Him, anyone else, don't go closer, no, no!

This was a mistake. I shouldn't try to get Him out. I should let Him stay in. We should let them all stay in, please! We can find other teammates! Please, listen to me! Just let me leave! I-I don't want Him to --

Click.

“No!” I scream. The word burns my throat, but it’s nothing compared to the pit in my stomach, the endless void that just keeps getting deeper with every moment of consciousness, of understanding what’s happening. The surreality being reality. Him being, Him being…

No, I can’t, I can’t accept it, I have to do something! I can scream, so I can do something, I still have some control, if I just try… and I have to try, I’ll try to break the fucking thing, it can’t kill if it’s broken!

Under every restraint, every ton weighing down on my body from all directions to keep it in place, the rage and the will and the despair boils over and the miracle happens -- the hand flies forth for the monitor, fist clenched -- and smashes onto the glass.

The glass gives way. The monitor flies back.

What? That doesn’t make sense. It would be too heavy. It should have broken, or it should have broken my hand…

It smacks into the wall - crack - and falls to the floor with a shattered screen. Flat, small, wrong shape. Wrong things on the screen…

What’s going on?

Shirlee’s staring at me. Since when is Shirlee here? Where is… here? Grays, browns, blue mattresses…

...right, this is…

“What the fuck was that?” yells Shirlee. “Are you, like, five? Can’t solve your problems with words, you just punch right at them?”

She… caused that. She just caused that nightmare. That plunge into the worst time of my life…

“You’re gonna pay me back for that phone, by the way!” she continues. “If you’re just gonna fucking dump me like this, I want back the money I spent on you!”

I want her out. Now.

“Get out,” I rasp.

“Cough up the money first!” she screeches. “I’m not leaving without it!”

I nearly snap back, but realize there’s a better way. A much better, much faster way.

I swipe the ultra ball off the floor and click it.

Shirlee’s eyes widen. “You motherf-”

The light gets to her before she can finish. With a flash, she’s back inside.

I grab her coat and shove the ball within, shortly joined by her phone off the mattress. The two items wrapped in the thick garment, I bolt out of the room, up the stairs, into the first floor, through that, and out the front door.

Leaping down the steps, I shove the coat to the ground. The ball rolls out, and soon the malamar emerges again.

She reorients herself, then turns to me with a glare. “How fucking dare y-”

“Leave,” I growl, drilling my eyes into hers.

She pauses, but soon recovers. “I’m not leaving without --”

“Leave, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

She flinches.

It shouldn’t mean anything to a beast like her, a threat from a human. A human with no weapons, no less.

But she’s seen what’s inside. The hatred pouring out of my eye sockets. The intent to hurt. To kill.

Not in self defense, not from a primal gut reaction, but out of conscious, crystal clear malice.

She doesn't dare to move. She simply floats in place, bringing that steady hum to my fading wounds, until she says just three quiet words.

"You never changed."

I don't feel the need to respond. She's gone now, and that's all that matters.

Sparing her no more space in my vision, I turn around and walk back inside.

As the door closes behind me, I can let myself breathe. It's finally over. I never have to see her again.

But there's still that gaping hollow where my guts should be. Something feels wrong. Dangerous. Unstable. The world isn't how it should be…

Eager for some change, I walk deeper into the house. The snow stuck to my socks is starting to melt, that's a little annoying…

"Red?"

I look to my right. Fonz stares back over the couch.

"What was that all about?" he asks.

I blink to gather my thoughts. I guess I still have some lies to weave.

But my mind's drawing a blank… it doesn't seem to want to think while that strange dread is still there…

Maybe I need to see Him. He always made me feel better, before this whole Shirlee thing, at least… but that should be over now. I shouldn't care anymore, knowing for a fact that His distraction will soon disappear. I just need to see Him, and it'll all be okay…

I say nothing while I approach the couch. Fonz looks a little offended, but he'll get his answer as soon as I feel better. Just a few more steps, and I'll see Him again - I know He's there, He's always hanging out there.

One more step, and I'll see His wonderful form. His shell, His smooth sandy-brown shell. I love the touch of it. His shiny arms, vivid blue, lined with little suckers He loves to stick to me with. And I love to be stuck to. It's like little kisses.

I should tell Him. I should tell Him how much I care. How much joy I get just from seeing Him. How ecstatic I feel when I get to hold Him. Maybe even how incredible it is I can even feel that way, given how much hate I have for the rest of the world, how readily I hurt and kill the others… no, He shouldn't know that. He's too naive. He'd think that's bad, that I'm bad...

But nevermind that. My adoration is still true. Maybe I’ll tell Him about that right now as I see Him.

I take the final step.

There He sits. But He’s holding…

No!

I plunge my hand for the screen, the white screen, the blinding window to the virtual hell. I feel its surface meet my palm, and I clutch it with fingers like talons, tear it from His hold, fling it as hard as I can!

It flops down, screen up, still glowing, the danger isn’t gone. I need to protect Him.

“Wh-hey, what --” He tries, but I grab Him by His shell - His lovely shell - and lift Him to my arms, clutching Him tight. Where do I take Him? Where will He be safe? Dammit, stop squirming, please, this is for Your own safety--

“Red, what’s going on?”

Fonz has gotten up. Confused. Why is he confused? Doesn’t he know what that thing can do? Why did he let Him near it in the first place? Why did I let Him use it? How could I have forgotten? What kind of guardian am I…?

No, I can’t dwell on that now! I have to get Him somewhere safe! But where? Downstairs? No, the other phone's in there! Upstairs? No, Jess's computer is there, that's even worse! Outside? No, it's too cold out there for Him, and any passerby is gonna have another screen on them! Oh Gods, what does that leave?

"Lemme go!" groans my lord, tentacles flailing about or trying to pry off my arms in vain, only tugging on my sleeves.

Now Fonz is approaching, claws held out. He wants to take Him away from me. From safety.

"No!" I growl and step back.

"What are you doing?" the nidoking asks, tense.

“I’m keeping Him safe!”

“From wh-” he starts, but cuts himself off as he looks over his shoulder, staring at the phone in realization. Is he finally getting it?

He turns back to me with… how do I describe those eyes? Disappointed? He should be disappointed, yeah, in himself. But there’s also fear. Fear of what might have happened if he didn’t get this refresher, right?

“Phones can’t hurt Him,” he says. No, I had it all wrong. He’s still deluded!

“What are you two talking about?” yells my lord. What are we… doesn’t He know?

Does He really not remember?

I turn around, shielding Him from Fonz’s grabby claws, and look into His eyes. He winces and draws halfway into His shell. What… why? I’m Your guardian, why would You… no, He’s just startled, confused. He’ll understand soon.

“Don’t You remember?” I ask, voice softer and quieter. “Don’t You remember how dangerous those things are?”

“Red --” tries Fonz behind me, but I step further away, ignoring him.

“What things?” my lord asks. He’s quiet too.

“Screens… computers, phones, they’re just smaller computers… they’re not safe, my lord, don’t You remember what they do?”

No recognition in those eyes. Just fear. He doesn’t… how could He not…

Suppressed, maybe it’s suppressed, or He’s denying it. But He has to acknowledge it. It might hurt, but He has to stay safe. This is for His own good…

“They trap You in, and they kill You! Th-they force You in Your ball and lock You in and i-if Release is pressed, it breaks in some way and You, Y-You --”

“Red!”

Thick claws grab my shoulder and force me to meet Fonz’s eyes. I try to turn back, but now he’s got both shoulders, and his grip is way too tight. No!

“You gotta stop this,” he says, leaning in. His horn almost touches my forehead, even as I’m hunching myself over my lord.

“No, I won’t let you take Him! He won’t be safe!”

“It’s been six years! He’s been safe ever since! There’s no danger anymore!”

“No, it's -- we've just been careless! It could’ve happened again at any time --”

“It couldn’t have! And it still can’t! Especially not with a regular phone, where would the ball even go?”

I… I don’t know! But it’d do it somehow!

“And what ball, even? He hasn’t had a ball in years! We unregistered it, remember? We sold it away, just like all the other ones!”

We did, but...

“And even if it was a center PC, the only thing it could happen with, it was only the Voices! They made it happen! And they’ve been gone for years!”

The Voices… the distortions...

Fonz exhales heavily. "Please. Snap out of it. You're scaring Him."

Him…

I look down at Him.

He’s fully retracted into His shell, tentacles shielding His face. They’re shifting nervously, and I think even… trembling.

It hurts, seeing Him like that. I want to hurt whoever’s responsible, but that person is me.

Why did I do that? Why did I yell at Him? For His safety? From… a phone, just a phone? What could it possibly do?

Fonz is right… it’s just a phone. Just a glowy little rectangle. It can’t do anything.

There was no reason for me to yell at Him. Scare Him, hurt Him. I just… hurt Him.

The coils of that realization wrap around my organs and constrict like a serpent. It makes it hard to speak, but I have to say this, I have to try and save at least some face…

“I… I’m sorry...”

I feel Fonz’s grip loosen. But he’s not letting go. Right, I… I should just…

I pry Him out of my own embrace and offer Him to Fonz, hands shaking. Eyes now understanding, he cautiously takes Him and steps back.

The emptiness in my palms is freezing yet burning. But I can’t hold Him anymore. I don’t want to hurt Him anymore…

I lower my hands and tuck them into my armpits. I should just get out of here.

The basement, that's where I should go. Away from everyone. Maybe hide in my hidden room until I… get the energy to emerge again.

I take some steps back, then turn around properly to circle the kitchen table... I feel like the long way is warranted. I reach the door to the staircase - still open from my previous storming out - and stop.

I look at Fonz. He looks back with a heavy gaze. The shell in his claws still has no blue coming out.

That’s my fault. That’s my fault.

As if it was a reflex, the words come out again.

“I’m sorry...”

But I know I could say it a thousand times and it wouldn’t make it any better. That’s why it’s better for me to just leave.

I step down a stair and close the door behind me. My legs don’t want to go further, but I force them to, and eventually I reach the bottom floor. I keep going, approaching the bookcase, but as I pass the training room, I stop.

The phone that Shirlee gave me is still lying down next to the wall, screen cracked. It’s gone dark since.

Before I can stop myself, I walk to it and crouch. But nothing happens anyway. Because it’s just a phone. It can’t do anything.

And yet, it just made me ruin everything I’ve spent the last few weeks on. Hell, months. I raised Him. Well, Fonz did a lot too, but I fed Him, played with Him, took care of His hygiene… I wanted to, sure, but I did that with the belief I’d have Him for the rest of my life. Mortal life, anyway. And His life.

I’d love to conquer this fear just out of spite. Get rid of this ball and chain on my leg. But if this is what’s gonna happen, if it’s gonna push Him further away, and hurt like a bitch in the process…

I’m never bothering with this shit again. It just wasn’t meant to be.

I pick up the phone and throw it against another wall. It clacks and falls. I let it be for now and lie down on the mattress.

What an idiot I’ve been. Stupid, impatient. Couldn't just let this Shirlee thing run its course, no, had to try and meddle with it. And look where that got me - worse off than it ever was.

Maybe this can be repaired. Maybe He can still accept me in His life. But He'll never trust me the way He used to. And it's sure as hell gonna be a while before He even lets me touch Him again.

My face is burning. Water prickles at the edges of my eyes. I sigh. I’m so tired… I just want to rest.

I try to close my eyes, but the moment the eyelids meet, I see Him again. Quivering in my arms. It shocks me fully awake. If that’s gonna keep happening, I definitely won’t sleep well tonight. Or for a long time.

I guess I should just accept it.

I was simply never meant to have love.

---​

 

[canisaries]

Okay, now we are finally done for really reals - here is the epilogue. Same ratings as always. Hope you enjoy.

---

EPILOGUE

---​

It's been about a week since my freakout.

I haven't spoken to Him since. Fonz I've only had brief conversations with, and few have mentioned Him. How is He doing? I ask. He's fine, he answers, and that's the extent of it. It's not that I couldn't bring myself to pry if I wanted to - it's more that… I'm scared to find out the details.

Because of course He isn't fine. I saw His face. He was not fine then, and He would not be fine for a long time.

That memory twists my gut again. I shuffle to a different position on the couch and force myself to focus on the TV screen to get my mind off the feeling. The reality show on at the moment is supremely uninteresting, but I could, say, think about what would happen if a contestant suddenly exploded live on air. Guts flying everywhere. How would the people react? Do the producers have a plan for situations like those? Could they get sued?

Clacks from upstairs catch my attention. Must be Jess's talons. They descend the stairs and waddle up to the couch, and there he is, the packaged pidgeot.

"Hey," I say. "How's your wing?"

He glances at his wrapped wing. "It's okay," he says and climbs onto the couch using his beak and feet. I guess birds aren't totally helpless without their flight.

When Jess woke up from the spores, it was an hour or so after my phone incident. He made it clear from the start that he was in pain - he came downstairs groaning and moaning, lamenting his wing and how it hurt to move and he didn't know what he did to make that happen.

I wasn't sure what course of action to take - I'd expected before that Fonz would be the one to aid his fellow mon, but with the tense atmosphere in the house, I couldn't count on Fonz daring to leave me alone with my lord. But going with Jess wasn't a good idea, either. Just one involuntary facial cue at the right time could let somebody know I knew more about his injury than I let on. If they then confronted me about it… I don't know if I'd be able to lie convincingly. In the worst case, panic might set my inner killer free. They can't tell anyone if they're not alive, he would say, and I'd listen before my rational side got hold of the mic again.

Thankfully, a third option presented itself at the critical moment. Good old Abe, the friendly little fool he was, absorbed all the worry for himself and took it as his duty to help my old ace for whatever reason. He called a cab to take him and the bird to the hospital. To show my support of this idea, I paid for it. I don't usually like to spend, but this I saw as a worthwhile investment in goodwill.

The boy and bird left and returned some time later, Jess with his wing now wrapped up. They said nothing about strange wounds at the back of his head, so either it wasn't found or… they decided it was not something to share. I hope for the first.

Jess reaches for the pouch hanging from his neck and pulls out his smartphone. I suppress a grimace and look back at the TV. It's still very boring. Maybe I should just leave. Take a walk. The second one today…

"So… how are things with you?" Jess asks.

"Fine." No use getting into the subject with this feather duster.

"You don't seem fine. It looks like things are still sour between you and the others."

He's gonna make me talk about this anyway, isn't he?

He shuffles a bit closer and sighs. "I'm sorry, dude. I know you have a lot of baggage from back then."

"Uh-huh."

"I can tell you didn't mean any harm. I mean, everyone knows how much you appreciate that little dude. I think Fonz knows too, but he's just… shaken up about it. Both are."

I sigh. This is why people are poor comfort. They just tell you lies you'd like to believe.

At least I have words of my own to use. "I'd rather not talk about this," I say.

"Ah. Alright." And back to his phone he goes.

I return to the TV. The program's ending now. Maybe the next one won't be as crap. Or maybe there's something better on another channel now.

As I reach for the remote, a familiar face on the screen freezes me.

"How does a pop star manage when her life has literally turned upside down? Singer-songwriter Shirley Tanner, better known by her stage name Shirlee, shares her experiences and plans for her future after a sudden evolution on a special episode of The Current Isshu, tomorrow at 9 pm."

The preview image shows the malamar along with a photo of her previous self. The malamar looks confident, even sage, as far as I can read malamar expressions. Someone that'd write a self help book based on her own experiences.

It tenses my body and curls my hands into fists. She can't be over it so quickly. I want her to be scarred. It's only fair after she tore open my wounds.

But then again, celebrities are used to pretending. They know how to fake composure. I'm sure that's what's going on here. She's only acting brave. Inside, she knows her career is done. She knows she'll never have her cute little former body again. She's a deep sea terror now. It's up to her to embrace it, and I know she likely won't. Too attached to this civilization's notions of beauty.

I stealthily glance at Jess. Maybe this could be a worthwhile topic. I can't say I'm not interested in the results of my scheme even if its possible benefits have been nullified.

"Oh, Shirlee evolved?" I remark so that Jess hears.

He looks up from his screen to the TV. "Oh, yeah. That happened. Fangirls are freaking out, everyone else is memeing. I guess you got your wish? Though it's a bit too… late… yeah." He withdraws as he realizes the touchy subject.

"So this is career-ruining?"

Jess shrugs. “Well, she’s taking a hit for sure, but she might be able to work with this. Rebrand herself or whatever. She definitely has all eyes on her now, so it’d be the perfect time to make some bold move.”

Hmm. With all her emotions right now, she likely won’t be able to strategize that well… but she does have plenty of people around her. And those people probably don’t want the money train to stop any more than she does.

But will she like the new identity they come up with? Will she go with it? I taught her to stick up to her crew, but will she want to avoid any advice I’ve given now that she knows I’m… well, I don’t know how much she knows, how much she found out from the slip of my facade, but I doubt she thinks too highly of me in any case.

But beyond her… "Does my lord know?"

"Think so."

"How's He taking it? Can't be that well with how much He likes her…"

Jess looks up at me, unblinking. What?

"Did you not hear?" he asks.

I have a bad feeling about this. "Hear what?"

"He got over her a while ago."

I blink. I blink again.

No, that can't be right.

"Like a week?" he adds. Shut up, Jess. You're wrong. Shut up. But I can't have him just shut up, can I? I still have to know, don't I?

I stare deep into his eyes to make sure he's serious and speak very slowly. "What do you mean… 'got over'?"

His golden gaze doesn't waver. "He realized it was kinda dumb. He even put the shirt up for sale. With Fonz's help, of course."

I think he's really telling the truth.

Like debris from a collapsing building, words fall from my mouth.

"How… how did I never notice?"

"I dunno. Were you paying attention to Him?"

I…

I guess I wasn't.

I didn't want to see Him fawn over Shirlee… and as a result, I pretty much avoided Him. But haven't I seen Him look at Shirlee recently? Have I…? I can't remember any specific event… He's been on His phone, yes, but I don't think I've actually seen what's on it…

So it's very possible that all of this was pointless to begin with.

Every letter sent to her, every word spoken. Chasing down Tamaki. Kidnapping her. Breaking Jess's wing. Buying that expensive fucking wine! I never did get her drunk!

"You alright?"

I abstain from smashing in Jess's beak with a fist. "I'm fine." I get up quickly and head for the stairs. I need to go lie down. Anything to calm myself.

Gods, I sure could go for a meowth right about now.

---​

"McKimble is almost done with the Mankey Bars, with plenty of time to spare on the clock and -- oh! Rough landing! But he's not letting that slow him down. With that vigor, he may well become our first contestant of the night to reach the Carousel of Chaos…"

The man in blue spandex continues his journey through the perilous obstacle course while the commentators make remarks that I'm sure could be considered humorous by some demographic. At least they're explaining what's happening, as it's kind of tough to see from all the way over here from the kitchen.

Not that I'm really invested in the show. Just some Unovans stumbling about and humiliating themselves in hopes of money and fame. Though I do have to admit there’s something satisfying about watching those people slip and bounce on the big rubber balls…

Nevertheless, it's not what's on the screen that interests me but the ones watching it. Specifically Him. But I have to keep my distance to keep things comfortable. I can't be there with Him on the couch, cradling His shell in my arms, warming His little arms…

I sigh. I shouldn't think about those things. It only hurts more knowing what I'm missing out on.

Knock, knock.

Hm? That came from the door. Fonz noticed, judging by his perked ears - but I'm the closest, so I may as well go.

I make my way to the door. Who would be out at this hour? The last and probably only person who's come knocking here at night was Shirlee… but there's no way she'd ever come back. Or is there? Ugh, does she still want me to pay back for the phone?

"Who's there?" I ask.

"I have an important message for Mr Red Akai," answers a masculine voice.

A message? Is this some kind of personal letter carrier? Did Shirlee send one? Or even Tamaki?

I glance over to the living room. Fonz is keeping his eyes on me. I have a witness. Still, I should be prepared.

I hover my hand over my knife and open the door.

Arktos?

"Evening," he says, expressionless. He's not wearing his suit. In fact, he's not wearing anything, which is kind of jarring - until I remember he's a mon, and a thick-furred one at that. Didn't stop me from looking at his crotch, though. Nothing was visible, but now I have to live with the fact that my eyes instinctively sought out bear dick.

"May I have a word with you outside?" he asks.

I eye the paws he keeps at his sides. Strong claws. Just a knife won't protect me against those.

"How do I know you won't hurt me?" I ask.

"I can announce my name to your family if you want," he says. "I have no reason to hide it."

Giving his name… leaving tracks. He's not here to kill me, at least.

I nod and move aside to let him into the hall. He walks into view of the others and clears his throat.

"My name is Gavriil Arktos," he calmly explains. "May I see Mr Red Akai for a moment outside?"

"Uh… sure," Fonz answers, probably wondering why his permission is needed.

Arktos gives his thanks and goes back outside. I quickly throw on a coat, pocket my keys and follow him, shutting the door behind me.

It's pretty cold out. Snowflakes are floating about, illuminated by the lights of my house and the street. A car is parked on the street. Not a limo, though. Just a regular looking car.

I watch my step as I walk some way into the front yard, then turn to the bear. "So what did you want?"

Thwack.

The world flips on its side. No, I do. Cold snow presses against my cheek. The other is burning. Did that… did that fucker just hit me?

I grab my knife and pull it out. Holding it up, I clamber to my knees, ready to stab or at least block. Little good did that announcement shit do! This guy was just pretending. He's here to kill me. He's gonna --

No, he steps back. Arms at his sides. What gives?

"Relax," he says. "I'm not here to fight you."

Not here to -- "You just hit me!"

"There was a mosquito."

"It's winter!"

"Let's just say I won't do that again. Is that alright?"

What the hell is he on about? Keeping a close eye on him, I carefully get up, but he stays immobile. Just stares with those beady black eyes. It's almost creepy…

But it really seems like he's not about to attack me again. After some seconds of hesitation, I huff and sheathe my knife. "Fine."

"It's clearly not the first time you've handled that thing," he remarks.

"Yeah, and what of it?"

"Figures you'd have a thing for knives. Many of 'em do."

"What do you mean by 'them'?"

His upper lip draws back for his next word, flashing his teeth. "Snakes."

"Snakes?"

"People that pretend to be good. Polite and proper, even friendly. But in reality, they're cold. Violent. Just looking out for themselves. And they don't care how much harm they do in the process."

I sneer. "Isn't that a little offensive to arbok?"

"Don't pretend like you care. Snakes never care."

Hm. He's convinced that I'm like these snakes he speaks of. How come? Did Shirlee make up some lie to rile him up and get him to come here? Or is he actually so attached to that inkay that hurting her feelings in any way is already a crime? Oh, such a gentleman, defending his lady's honor…

"What makes you come here and call me names, huh?" I ask. "And what have I done that would make me such a villain in your eyes?"

"Killed a kitten, for one."

I freeze.

How does he know? If he knows, has he told the cops? Are they gonna catch me? But wait - it's been over a week. Why haven't I heard anything? Why did Arktos only come here now? Why did he even come here if the police should handle it?

Oh… I get it. He can't prove I did it. At best he only has loose facts to tie me to the kitten. I was nearby at the time, I went for a walk, I showed a 'fake' coin to the driver - dammit, I knew I shouldn't have done that, but I got cocky… it felt so good to dangle a trophy right in someone's face without them knowing…

But Celadon is a big city. Anyone could have done it. Anything. There are plenty of other ferals living in cities. And I've hidden the coin well, in my secret room. Or… oh Gods, could they search my house?

Arktos grimaces. "So I was right. It's clear from your reaction. You sick bastard…"

On one hand, I feel cornered, caught - but on the other, I love hearing how disgusting I am…

But I was right before. He can't go to the cops, not enough evidence. Or at least he thinks so, and that's the only thing that matters as long as he's the only one looking into this.

In that case, back to the moment. "You didn't answer my first question. Why are you here?"

His paws curl into fists. Startling - but he did swear not to hit me again. And this only shows his frustration towards not being able to take any real action. I'm safe.

“It’s like I said,” he growls. “I’m here to give a message.”

“From Shirlee?”

“Shirlee doesn’t know about this. I figured she wouldn’t like knowing she trusted a psychopath. This is just from me to you.”

Yes, shelter the heart of your beloved queen. “What is it, then?”

He steps closer. I don’t allow myself to flinch. I want to show him he can’t make a dent in me.

“A warning,” he says.

“A threat?” What would he threaten me with? What would he accomplish?

“Not a threat. Just a fact. One I’ve learned from years of dealing with snakes.”

“And what would that fact be?”

His black glare becomes sterner. It’s clear the words he’s about to say are the ones he came all the way here for.

“You can’t hide your true self forever. You may have managed it this time, kept on your mask, but masks have a tendency to come off. One day you’re gonna slip up, beyond any possibility of covering it up - and on that day, you’re gonna lose everything.”

He falls silent. A frigid wind hums in the distance, filling in the void left by his words.

I want to brush off his message, just say he’s wrong and move on, but he’s… so sure.

How can he be so sure?

How would he know that about me?

...He doesn’t.

He doesn’t know a damn thing.

“Is that all?” I ask, toneless.

“That is all.”

I pry my lips into a smirk. It makes his jaw clench. Those thick muscles on his skull tense and bulge. He’d love to bite into my neck, I’m sure. Like an animal. But I’m the only one here who gets to be one.

“I’m sorry to say, Mr Arktos, but I think your trip here was in vain.”

I stroll to the front door. He doesn’t move. Having ascended the steps, I give him the most smug look I can muster.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He stares in silence. Loud silence.

Then, he speaks.

“I suppose there’s nothing else I want to say.” He turns around and heads for the car. Unlocks the door, opens it, sits inside, closes the door.

No, he doesn’t. He keeps it open, just for a while longer.

“Tell your family I wish them well,” he says.

He shuts the door, starts his car and drives away.

What a character, huh.

Thinking I’ll be caught.

I will never be caught.

I unlock the door and step back inside.

---

END

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