ready, willing, cain and able, closed gtfo

[Steven]

because sometimes it was pretty--

just watching rivers.

not like he knew where he was. somewhere in his mind, where there weren't any mirrors. sitting at his side, the umbreon, eyes watching the rushing water before him.

and proton
hummed

because the song was in his head and he wasn't quite sure what song it was,
but it kept the knives sheathed for now.

[Blaine]

Proton had a little drink. Just some simple whiskey, nothing big. His eyes looked fairly dated as he remembered that poor Lopunny he almost murdered. Because of it, he had given it a phobia of pain and death. He felt like such a monster back then, even with Petrel's reassurances. He sighed, drinking some more from the flask. Maybe he should adopt a few Eevee for some relief and self-help...

He walked on, spotting some rivers and squatting beside them, just looking at his reflection. His boyish face reflected in the water, just like it did in mirrors. He wasn't one for vanity, though he loved the swoons of fangirls. He chuckled, smirking a bit and slapped the water.

"You need a good slap in the face," he solemnly said, looking over his current Pokeballs. Matt HElms, the psychotic Minccino, Stryker, his Rampardos, Dempsey, his Hitmonchan, and....'that'. That fucking Diglett he dubbed Clemence. A hellish little monster, only to be released in dire straits. He nodded his head and pat each of his Pokeballs with a wet hand, jjust staring at the reflection of the river.

[Steven]

we all cut close

the creek flowed through and proton didn't pay attention to the reflection (because you know i'm right, alex, and you know you can't look me in the eye). he merely took out his scissors, humming the busy tune with several melodies and no real rhythm. he honed the blade

and snip snip snip

stalkereon hunted in the creek, red eyes watching carefully. he was hungry. there were fish. he would catch them. he would eat them. but noise made him glance up. someone was here. his back arched and he prepared to fire a dark pulse into the shadows.

i'm a woodland nymph

but through the shadows came the sound of another pokemon. the umbreon hopped across the rocks, carefully watching each leap. his hunger half-forgotten, he strayed into the darkness, his rings illuminating his path. it was a new moon; the umbreon's light seemed almost brighter because of it. when he made it across the river, he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing.

take off your clothes

the scissorfiend glanced up from his humming, though the tune remained constant as he ceased his sharpening. a soft smile crossed his lips as he stepped forward, following after, the grass crunching beneath his feet. but as soon as he made it in range to see the sight before him, he froze, feet snaring down in the mud of the riverbank.

and lie in the blades of grass

the umbreon leaned forward, sniffing at the strange nicegood's face. this didn't smell like nicegood. nicegood never drank the firewater that humans so loved. nicegood also wasn't so vibrant, so... bulky. he stepped back, hissing, not trusting his eyes.

we all cut close

alex (proton) stepped towards the water, into it, across. it was shallow enough for him. the song still played in his head, but no longer on his lips. he reached down and picked the umbreon up, teal eyes turning down to the form before him. so different, so... healthy. and yet, almost the same.

to our sunburn sideburns

alex (proton) was nowhere near as healthy. he stood, tall and almost emaciated, with a shirt that was too big for him and a belt tied on so tight that he had to add new holes to it. the cabby hat was still there, as was the face that had charmed too many unaware victims. but the eyes were hungry. observant.

crackle crackle flake

and then a smile crossed that face, slowly pulling at the corners of his mouth. the water continued to run over his bare feet, cut from the loss of his shoes. "you know, there's an old myth about doppelgangers," he said (and oh man is it weird to not bold dialogue sometimes). "seeing yourself is a sure-fire sign of death." his tone was conversational for now, but the scissors were still in his hand and that smile seemed just off. "so which one of us is the shadow?"

let no one know

alex (proton) wouldn't be surprised if it had been himself all along.

[Blaine]

Proton just looked these things over. He was cautious, almost tumbling into the river as this....'thing' sniffed at him. Was it a Pokemon? It looked like a Pokemon. Like an Umbreon... Christ, those things were awkward. He shook his head, the smell of cheap alcohol on his breath as he gave a few little surprised pants.

"Jesus Christ... Umbreons should mind their own business," he said, picking himself up. He took another swig, but then heard a voice from his side. It sounded...like his? That can't be. He turned to look, his white/grey boots crinkling the nearby wet rocks and soil. "...What? Doppelgangers? What are you getting at..?"

He soon blinked enough to have his eyesight come to him, seeing this 'doppelganger' in front of him. Sweet zombie Jesus, it WAS a Doppelganger, but...slightly more insane. His expression turned to that of horror, with a nervous frown. He put a hand on his hip, ready to take a shot if this guy was hostile.

"Who the hell are you," Proton barked, completely unsure if he was going out of his mind, "And why do you look so much like me...?! Are you a clone, experiment, weapon?!" Proton backed up a little bit, keeping his distance from a man such as he. He looked like him, but he was...ghastly, even. Something he was completely unused to.

[Steven]

cowering in fear-- today he was the mirror, not the ghost looking in it. today he got to speak softly, whisper all the things he never wanted to hear into his ears, moaning that the agonies really weren't agonies at all.

but the other-him asked and proton listened, the smile on his face not wavering. the last one made him laugh a little.

"weapon."

stalkereon purred in his arms.

"of course. i'm giovanni's walking swiss army knife. i'm the master of life and death. i'm the only sort of sense you'll ever make out of this war."

his stomach growled.

"more importantly, i'm hungry."

he stepped out of the water and onto the riverbank.

"if you're looking for an epiphany, i hope you brought food."

[Blaine]

Proton pulled out some rations of some Tactical Bacon in a can, perfect for keeping you going with its taste. His eyes glanced towards the Stalkereon, twitching back and forth between it and the odd 'weapon'. Humph... Seems like this guy was a real deal.

"...I'm Giovanni's prized hitman and swiss army knife. If someone's in our way, it's my job to put them down.." His tone changed to a choked, somber tone, "...No matter who it is." It seemed he had a few...hundred skeletons in his closet, some even more blood-stained than one might think. He put the can of Bacon on the ground, letting the man have at it.

"...You don't look like a weapon. You look like a psychopath to me. Then again," he said, clenching both his fists as he put them at his sides, "I guess that means you see me as a crazy fucker too, don't ya?" He stared directly at that grin, feeling off-put and uneasy over it. He never even considered himself some sort of a deity, only treating death as the ceasing of that person to be.

[Steven]

food.

he dropped the umbreon like a stone, the cat hitting the ground with a "plop" as alex dove forward, picking up the tin and ripping the cap off. he sat down on the ground, the cat curling up in his lap. he began devouring the rations until they were gone, and alex was left licking the remains off his fingers.

"not fond of the term psychopath," he snickered, "but it's been used, yes. i prefer the term 'honest.' because if you go around, people are killing each other all the time, aren't they? and yet they pretend that they're something worth saving, like they're something more than pieces of shit worthy only of a knife in the face. now, i'm hardly claiming to be better than them. i'm shit, too, but why paint it?"

the umbreon licked at his fingers as well. alex stroked its ears. "it's like dada. you do know what dada is, right?"

[Blaine]

Well... Hard to argue with that. He tipped his hat down, covering his eyes. What could he even retort with? He was no saint. No hero. He was just a man that killed too much for a false idol that had fell off its pedestal. Now everyone scrambled to try and put themselves at the top. Who knows? Maybe one of the Kanto executives put Gio in the ground.

"...Can't say that I like taking lives anymore," Proton said with a monotone voice, "I did once... Never again. I may be destined for Hell at the end of my everything, but I won't be like Kanto Branch. Not again." He sighed heavily, drinking from the flask more, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"As for humans.... I just shoot them," Proton said, his voice getting a bit more color and emotion to it, "I can question why, but what good's it do? You're half right, anyway. Some people are worth saving. People that you love, people who've done no wrong to you, or anyone else... Sure, most of them deserve a bullet to the head sometimes, but I'm not one to do that. Cause, for every bullet I waste on the people who did nothing, another dollar is made for the people who DO deserve it. I dunno if you understand. I sure don't."

Proton drank from his flask again, his speech getting slightly cracked and slurred. "B-But... There's people like...like fuckin' rapists, people who kill kids for some kind of sick thrill, people who skin women... Those kindsa people...they need to die. Nothing good can come from people like that. Not a damn thing." He drank some more as his knees buckled and his posture became slouched, wondering what he was fighting for again.

"Course... Labeling your own ideals as justice is...kind of cocky, ain't it?"

[Steven]

"but in the end," those teal eyes narrowed, "aren't you just like them?"

the smile didn't waver. "death is death. murder is murder. a crime is a crime. and frankly, the human race isn't worthy of kindness. look at how they kill each other over the silliest things. rapists, as you said-- fuck them, all of them. but if they're going to hell, then so are everyone else."

he ran his hand across the scar on the back of stalkereon's head. "good people, they don't exist. there's only liars and honest men in this world. liars are just like me, or those people you named earlier. the bad ones, you called 'em. i don't say they're bad. they're just honest. proof that the human race is a disease and it'll be much easier if we just get rid of all of them."

his fingers clenched on the back of the umbreon's throat. "but suicide is so boring, i think. it's a boring way to go. i'd rather take someone with me when i go out. make it a spectacle. make people remember my name. i'll carve it into them if i must." the scissors were still laying next to them.

"guns are so informal. so expensive, too. government doesn't want them in my hands. so i kill with what they let me have." he pulled out a pen, twirling it over in his hands. "out here in the wild, all animals are equal, they just don't realize it yet. kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. i'm shit broke and i don't plan on dying any time soon. so you learn to improvise."

the pen flew out of his hands, landing on the ground nearby. he didn't bother retrieving it. "and in the end, all their money won't mean anything. in the end, they'll die and nothing's worth anything to the dead." he smirked. "and don't put words in my mouth. i'm not a being of justice. justice is a lie and a preconception thought up by men who don't want to admit that they're just out to make other people suffer."

[Blaine]

Proton clenched his fists. He couldn't make a retort. Sure, people were scumbags, but.... hell. What if this guy is right? What if this 'weapon' is right, and he's wrong? Maybe life is all filled with scumbags and monsters.

"...Maybe you're right, Proton said, tossing the flask across the river, "Maybe you're wrong. A lesser me would have agreed with you. A lesser me would have paired up with you to bash someone's fucking brains out." Proton rubbed his face, before looking his clone right in his eyes. "Not anymore. I've been proved to that there are good people. I don't know if they're here, and I don't know if they're in another galaxy. But they exist Mr. 'Weapon'. They exist, live, and breathe."

Proton squatted on the ground, chuckling. "Friend of mine taught me otherwise. He donated over a million dollars just to save one Pokemon. Sure, he may not be the most honest, but any man who does that can't be a monster. He's..." He looked at the ground with a false smile, as if it were painful to remember. ".....He's just going through a very tough time right now. I think we broke him. He's not his usual self... Probably never will be again unless those damn terrorists are vanquish. He just stays in his room with his Pokemon; never actually bothers to do any real work, but he's a sweetheart all the same." He scoffed at his reflection in the water, giving a little smirk. "Better him than me... He deserves happy."

He slowly started to shake his head with another chuckle. "Fuck me, I don't even drink. I just want to forget he's unhappy. He's so...-good-, that it revolves around to 'changes your outlook on life'. He helped me grow a heart. He helped us all grow a heart. I may not be a social minister of justice, but people like that would need your support, right?"

He sighed heavily, his smile fading into a blank stare and expression. He picked up a rock and skipped it down the river, it making little splashes before sinking into it. "...Fame's overrated. Fame itself is just the wrong kind of publicity if you do the wrong things in daylight. Sure, I'm Public Enemy #4, but they know that I'm a good Samaritan. I don't judge. I had to kill good men. Men that had families. Men that would kill for a second chance at life. I don't do that anymore. I never want to do it again--" he scowled, clenching his fists very tight, "ever ever again. Shit like that...it's what MAKES you go insane. It's what kills your insides. It makes you want to put a gun to your head and outright end it."

"As for my weaponry... My weaponry is... Basically guns. Guns may not be a knife, or a bat, but they're invaluable. In this day and age, they're enough to save lives. That's good enough for me."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, before Proton pulled something out. The largest machete 'Proton' would ever see, sharpened to the point of easily able to take something off. It was more like a thick sword that had been heavily washed; he never liked to keep it bloody or unkempt, but you could easily tell this thing must have cut off more heads and limbs than Michael Myers. "...This is my secondary. I didn't use any scissors. No, I grabbed this, and I cut off Slowpoketails to try and sell to rich people. Do I regret it? Yeah. Yeah I do. In a time like this, THIS is your only justice. We may kill and strive to be the best, but I want to weed out the bad ones. If I can kill all thee monsters, the healing can begin, and we can develop faster. That's my 'justice'."

[Steven]

(you can sense it, can't you alex? that maybe your petty little belief that the world is full of big scary bad men is wrong? and that, even though you say you are, you truly believe you're the victim... oh, you don't know how wrong you are, little alex. or maybe you do, and that's one of the reasons you push me away.

alex i've said it before: you're the reason we're being held back like this. what we are, what we could be, would be so much greater if you let me take over.

but no, you don't quite understand, do you?)

his thoughts flickered as the other him spoke. he pushed stalkereon off his lap and hugged his knees, a stream of memories filling his mind. of petrel, and of agnes, and of platinum-- did they deserve death?

petrel... was he a bad person? (he left me alone with archer he left me alone alone alone alone) but he came back, didn't he? he came back and while he didn't make the bad things go away, he made things a bit better. around petrel, proton never had to be afraid. he could not take the knife to petrel's skin.

he had been given the chance with platinum. and he had the knife in his hands as he loomed over her. in the end he left, leaving only a note on her bedstand, three words: i owe you. she had shown him compassion, mercy, kindness-- and he had no idea what to think of it. he would repay her one day; she had saved his life, after all.

and as for that girl, agnes... he told himself he'd kill her. he'd wrap his fingers around her throat and watch her suffocate. and yet he'd been near her before, places where she'd disappear without a sound, where no one would find them until he was done with the deed and he was neck-deep in her skin and blood and bones. and yet he couldn't bring himself to do the deed.

(do you still think you're han solo? do you think she's your leia?

you shouldn't, and you know it.)

the smile was gone from his face.

"...the tails grow back."

he wasn't quite sure what else to say. the victim and the monster warred inside him, each trying to sort out their thoughts. and then it bubbled to the surface again as his eyes observed the knife. he could jump right now and end everything, but then he'd never be able to repay his debts.

more importantly, he'd never be able to take agnes with him.

(not like that was important, right?

he wasn't worried, was he? that she'd been gone for so long?

you can't possibly think you stand a chance, alex.)

the umbreon glanced over at the other proton, then padded over softly, extending one paw to touch the strange man on the knee. the poor creature looked as skinny and scruffy as its owner, with one ear missing a chunk and a visible scar on the back of its head. "brrrrr?"

alex at last spoke.

"don't pity the dead. they don't have to live with this bullshit." he closed his eyes. "that's why i'm gonna kill her. i don't deserve her."

[Blaine]

"How do you know," Proton said, sheathing the machete, "How do you know they're not going through worse? I'm not a big religion buff, but I believe in the concept of a bad place if you sin hard enough. Especially since one of my friends died and was saved from the brink of death's cold hand, if only barely. He told me of the worst things he saw in death. Now, it could just be hallucinations from near-death, but something about that struck a chord with me."

He chuckled, smirking a little bit, "It's fuckin' freaky, y'know? The fact that no matter what we do, we're all gonna die. There could be a test of heaven or hell right around the corner, and yet we kill so..." He held his hands up and clenched his fists, "Haphazardly. It's like we don't do what we can to avoid that on purpose. Do we want to burn? Do we want to believe there's some kind of giant pit where we go? That's why I believe in the concept of a 'hell' at least. And if there's a hell, there's gotta be a heaven."

"The dead are probably worse off if they 'sinned'. Murder's prolly gonna get me into hell. Then again, maybe if I become a better person, maybe, just a slim little chance, that -maybe-, I can make things right." Proton paused, tipping his hat. "As for your 'she'... Do you feel like she appreciates you? Likes you? Needs you? I don't mean to put words in your mouth, but if she likes or loves you,and you don't feel like you deserve her, let her find someone else. Taking life haphazardly is going to piss off some kind of form of creation. I know that."

[Steven]

(you believe in hell, don't you?)

"nana used to say that."

his eyes opened. "that there was a heaven and a hell. that hell existed. that all the bad men go there. but she talked of heaven and sometimes i think it's not real--"

the other mentioned her.

(you know he's right)

no. nononono. no no no. he could see it, in the back of his mind: she'd found someone worse than him, someone who'd hurt her, someone who'd treat her like archer treated him. death would be good to her. death would save her from the creatures that wanted to hurt her.

(or you just want to keep her for yourself.

and what if she did find someone better?)

his upper lip raised.

"because she's mine."

she didn't know it yet. she didn't know that he'd be there, watching her always, making sure that she never strayed where she shouldn't.

he'd find her, too. find her and take her far, far away.

(and then what?

you say you want this girl dead, alex. but you say you don't want to kill her, you say she's yours...)

"and because-- because if they get their hands on her, the things they'll do--"

lux would show no mercy to a rebel leader.

"they want her dead. they'll tear her heart out. but no, only my knife... only my knife will kill her."

[Blaine]

"...Heaven probably exists. It might not, may. Who knows, maybe we all just burn. Maybe we're all trapped with Giratina governing us and sending us to the Distortion World. Who can say these days... Your nana must have been pretty hopeful."

Proton didn't even flinch at the man starting to snap. He'd seen it enough in his own rank to be completely desensitized to it. Who knows, maybe he took a few notes from Petrel... "....If you love her, truly loves her, let her go. If she comes back to you, she is yours. No one else's. I don't know what's going on with you, but..." He swallowed, giving the little Stalkeron some food to pep it up.

"I hope to at least try to make you think twice. That's what he'd want... I don't even know what the hell you meant by 'war', but my bet would be to just get the hell away from it with her if it's become too much to deal with. War and fighting are not worth the mental hell it causes. That's...That's how Petrel is going out... He doesn't even want to live anymore. He sees all those stupid terrorists and he just stays locked up in his room with all his Pokemon, waiting for peace to come again. But I'm gonna set things right. He and I... We'll stop them together with all our pals and others." Proton sniffled, wiping his eye with a glove. "I'm...I'm gonna make him feel like a person again. I'm gonna do it."

Proton lightly started to sob, covering his eyes with a hand. "Why do people like them do the things they DO?! It doesn't make sense anymore," he shouted, clearly enraged, "Why are they spilling our blood?! I'll never find a goddamn answer, and to be frank, I don't think they have one either!!They broke PETREL, they broke ARCHER, they broke ARIANA, they broke KEANE, JAGURA, CHERMAINE, SIRD, ORM, EVEN GIOVANNI HIMSELF!! HE'S NOT COMING BACK!! HE'D NEVER WANT TO RETURN TO SUCH A BROKEN HOME!! EVEN THE OTHER GIOVANNI'S FINDING NO REASON TO LIVE!!"

Proton banged his fists on the ground, tears falling into the river and onto the rocky mud. "IT'S NOT GODDAMN FAIR!! I THOUGHT WE WERE PAST IT WHEN WE -FINALLY- GOT INTO LEGITIMATE BUSINESS, BUT NO!! THEY KEEP DESTROYING IT!!"

Proton started to curl up, slowly starting to stop crying. Slowly. Seems he had a lot of emotions bottled up too.

[Steven]

umbreon ate hungrily, purring and leaning against the givefood as he cried. umbreon thought of happy things, of trees and grass and of big juicy fish. nicegood needed these images, but umbreon could share with a man who gave him food. it was one of the few reasons that umbreon used psychic, because hurting others only brought pain.

umbreon never liked seeing others in pain.

alex still had his weapon in hand, turning it over.

"because humanity can't be saved."

he chuckled. "lux started because they wanted to save humanity. nox started because they didn't want lux's salvation. and it all turned into a war over who was right. before then, a young man claimed he could save the world by separating people and pokemon, because pokemon were abused daily and used only by selfish trainers. he too was struck down. and the man they call cyrus-- oh, he almost went above and beyond. but what's all the same is that they tried to save humanity, and were all stopped."

he put his blade on his belt.

"were they saviors? no. but they tried. and they failed. humanity doesn't deserve peace or tranquility. otherwise we'd be at peace by now."

he stood.

"keep your knife close. this is the wild."

he smiled.

"blood and fear are the only truths our world has. i don't know about heaven and hell. i don't know about good and evil. i like to say i do, but i don't. no one does. we're all idiots. all i know is that they're after me. and i'm gonna keep running. i don't know why, and i don't like it, but if i stop..."

and all the world will be your enemy, prince of a thousand enemies...

"if i stop, it'll be worse."

...but first they must catch you.