Mentally Caged [Rock the Block April 2019]
Apr 11, 2019 20:09:50 GMT
Post by vray on Apr 11, 2019 20:09:50 GMT
Note: So a little bit of context. This one-shot isn't needed to understand Shattered Crests, however, it does shed light on a few things that happened that will be talked about. Think of it like a xenologue but also doing a rock the block prompt, so two for one.
This story does contain: Language, Blood, Violence, Psychological Stress, and Mephiles condescension at minor levels.
I'd also like to give a shout out to Cavespider_17 for helping me with the accents.
With that said, I hope you enjoy!
“Ugh, mornin’ already” a heatmor yawned, rolling over onto his side. Of course, this resulted with his face getting engulfed with sunlight. He uttered an angry grunt, finally giving up on getting any more sleep. Lazily sitting up, the heatmor started rubbing his eyes and yawned, looking around his little room. Same small stone built room. Same bars on windows. Same bed that had seen better days, and same door.
Wonder what time ‘t is? He threw the raggedy blanket off his body and got off the metal bed, rolling his arms and head. His gaze went to the door with a slight bar window, his only view outside his little lodgings.
“Any reason they haven’ come yet? They allus come…” he muttered aloud as he walked over to the door. Despite trying various angles, he sadly couldn’t seem more than about six feet’s worth of the rock hallway wall opposite his lodging.
“Ey up!” He gave a hard smack on the door with his fist, “You goin’ t’ come ‘ere ‘nd wake me up or owt?” A few more hard bangs on the door followed. “Ey up! Doctor!” He kept banging and banging on it, but nobody came.
Finally, he gave a disgruntled snarl and went over to sit on his bed. The sunlight felt like a nice little massage to try and replace his frustration with the feeling of pleasant warmth. Besides, what was a few minutes of waiting for the idiot? It would just mean he’d get more time in this sunlight. More time to gaze at his window to world outside and feel the freshness and wonder if brought into his little room.
After a while, it was starting to get annoying. With a hefty grunt he got back up and once again marched up to the door and began banging it again. “Ey up! You goin’ t’ keep me waitin’ in this stoopid room‽”
“That’s one way to say it.”
The heatmor turned around, looking for whoever said that. But no one was there. “Oh? I could’ve sworn.” Suddenly, the sound of creaking happened from behind. He slowly turned his head to see the door, which hadn’t moved at all from his beatings upon it, was now open by just an inviting sliver.
Cautiously, the heatmor opened the door with a slight tap. Nothing but the creaking of the door followed, prompting him to take a look. Everything about the hallways seemed normal. The hallways lined with barred windows all the way down to the stairs leading down to the lower floors. The floor looked like it had been walked on a lot, but wasn’t detestable to look at nor harbored any kind of foul smell.
He carefully opened the door enough to step out and looked around. So…is this a test? He scratched his brown head and crossed his scarlet red arms, with small stripes of white lines in the normal heatmor pattern. Well…be’’er repor’ myself. Up an’ a’ ‘em. Just so they don’ ge’ t’ wrong idea.
The walls felt oddly closed in, or maybe that was just the absence of others around. Despite the inconvenience that it normally presented, the heatmor sort of missed having to occasionally step to the side or move out of the way of others. Speaking of which, where was everyone?
After about twenty minutes of searching around the facility, he finally stopped to think. Is this some kinda gut chuckin’ test?
Suddenly, he heard something like dark laughter coming from behind him. He spun around, only to be met with the wall he was leaning on. “What the? Maybe a psychic type.” His eyes narrowed as his nerves stiffened and he peered around the hallway. After asserting no one was nearby he put his hand on the door in front of him. Well, this is the main hall where we go before trainin’. Let’s check it out.
As he opened the door, something surged inside his mind. It felt like an intense surge of pain like a needle piercing into his skull. He fell onto the ground, grasping his head in agony. Strangely, just as soon as it had come, it went away. “What the?” He rolled on his back, panting slightly, trying to process all that had just happened.
As he started to get back to his feet some strange feeling crossed his head. A foreign feeling crept in him, or was it him creeping in something foreign. It wasn’t till he stopped to think about these things before he noticed something off about the floor. Black? Isn’t it just dirt for battling? He carefully looked up and his eyes shot open at what he saw.
The large spacious room he was expecting was simply replaced by a dark room. Nothing was around, no one was around, save for something on the opposite end from the door. A mirror. Once he was on his feet, he advanced towards the odd mirror. Heh, just my reflection, an’ a damn han’some one it be, He chuckled slightly to himself, trying to calm down his nerves. He smirked at how silly his brown head looked. How old it seemed despite just being middle-aged. I mean, I don’ think I look tha’ bad, he muttered giving his head a little brush for a confidence boost. He looked directly into the reflection’s eyes. Yep…orange - as they should be. Something about seeing them made him feel a little…down. He wasn’t sure why. Pro’bly because of this room be weird.
His eyes moved from the face down to his solid scarlet red, white lined body, built up rather well since being here. Most noticeable was how well built his arms had gotten. Wait? He peered closer at the arm in the image, confirming what he suspected he saw. Why is it shaking? He slowly leaned down to get a closer look at it. Why does that look so…no, feel…huh? Wait.
He looked up at him in the mirror and to his horror it was still standing up straight like he was before. But that fact alone wasn’t what scared him; it was the look of its eyes looking down at him with such a nefarious look. “Wha’? Why they be-?” He backed away at the figure looking at him. “Why do, I ‘ave them red eyes?”
“Don’t you remember?”
“Remember?”
“Who you are? Why you are here?”
“Aye, I’m Allen Fiemer”
The figure gave a little smirk, as if he knew the heatmor was lying. “Well then how do you explain these?” The reflection of him pointed to the red eyes, slowly dragging it from his face, materializing a few scars.
“It’s some kind of mental messin’ with me. You aren’t me,” the heatmor accused.
“Aren’t I, KIL789”
“What?”
“This place…this room…it’s not like the outside. What does that tell you?”
“You’ full o’ I’!”
The dark figure laughed sinisterly as his tongue gave a little slither. “Well…then leave if you want. But first, mind telling me how you got this?”
The figure pointed to something on his neck. It looked like a scar that went all around his neck. Something like a neck brace, but had been on tight enough to indent itself into his skin. Slowly, Allen, felt his own neck and just like the figure had said, he felt the scars. “W-w-what?” he exclaimed in shock.
“That’s something you have. I ask again.” The figure’s eyes narrowed and gleamed with a little dark glee. “This place is not like the outside…what does that tell you?”
Allen paused and looked back at the door. It was open, the light from the hallway he had been in prior shining slightly into this bland place he now resided. I’ve had enough of-
This damn light….? Wait, why am I-
Talkin’ in my head? Allen spun around, only to see the mon in the mirror was gone.
The sound of laughter filled his mind. The mirror cracked in front of him and splattered, its cracked pieces falling all over the black ground. “Stop it! Stop it!” he roared, grabbing his head violently. “Stop invading my head! Stop-”
“Pretendin’ to be him.”
He darted out of the room, but even in the warm embrace of the light the laughter of a demon still filled his mind.
“I’ve got to find help!” he shouted aloud, as he stumbled his face down the hallway. “Help, somebody!” But no one was around. He collapsed down onto all fours panting heavily, his arms aching with a strange fatigue as they felt they were about to crumble.
Something grabbed his head and pulled it upwards. The red eyes version of himself looked down upon him with a dark smile.
Allen was so overwhelmed by all this he couldn’t help but laugh. Laugh at what he was seeing. This being in front of him. His replacement. Himself, who he was standing right abo- beneath him. He held the darkly laughing figure. The red eyes leering at him with terror and delight. Allen’s eyes narrowed as he placed his other hand on the back of this creature’s neck and twisted. The body fell to the side, still laughing. “Stop laughin’!” Allen shouted, seizing the maniac and shaking him violently. “Stop laughin’ like-”
“We would do that!”
The laughing one smirked as he exclaimed, “I can’t hear you, I’m too-”
“Flayed.” Tears starting to roll down his laughing face.
“I said stop!” Allen started punching this mon, over and over adding another command to stop after every three punched levied.
…
“Stop laughin’! Stop laughin’!”
“Allen! Stop pretendin’ Allen! Stop existin’ Allen! Die like you were supposed to ALLEN!”
…
“Sir, he’s unstable,” An ursaring in a white lab coat with a helm said.
“Damnit, apply the calming agent,” a mon in a black cloak commanded.
Immediately the urasring and another assistant rushed upon KIL789, who was shouting out loud with his eyes shut. The ursaring tried to keep him from shaking, while the other out and orb, pressing it to reveal a needle. He then dipped it into some liquid and promptly stuck it into KIL789’s neck making him scream out loud and try to thrash at everything as the agent entered his body.
Slowly his consciousness started to fade, the doctors, the other him with the bloodied face he was punching, the eyes looking at him, all of it.
“KI789?”
Allen slowly opened his eyes, but found it hard to open them wide due to a white emura contrasting with the dark room he was apparently in. He felt something soft on his side, like he was laying on some couch. As his eyes drifted to look, he found his initial suspicions correct.
As he started to wake up, he felt a little pain in his neck. His hand moved to give it some ease with a rub, only to find there was a bandage on it. The pain went to his head and he proceeded to divert his rubbing to it instead.
“Where…am I?” Allen asked the voice, taking a few blinks to adjust to the lighting.
Sitting in front of him looked like some kind of banette. This banette had gleaming red eyes, was wearing a black robe around his little body. His outfit’s sleeves looked a bit too long and thus drooped down to the ground. Speaking of ground, this banette was floating up in the air, about head level with Allen if he was sitting on the couch.
“You, are currently in the overseer’s office. You had an unfortunate experience so I’m required to see how things are in that head of yours.”
Allen blinked for a few seconds, not entirely sure what this stranger meant or what happened. “Who are you?” he asked, though got a little startled when this ghost type gave an aggravated moan.
“Going to be like that huh?” The ghost grumbled for a second before clearing his throat and stating. “Well…my name is Mephiles an-”
“Mephiles?” Allen repeated, moving a hand to his head as if he should know that name.
“Yes, Mephiles. What did I not say my own name to suite your taste or is that the psychological trauma talking right now?”
“Psycological? Taste?...Wha' happened?”
The stranger’s eyes narrowed as he peered closer at Allen. He gazed deeply into Allen’s eyes as if trying to read his soul and in the process make him very uncomfortable. “Huh…so you don’t remember.” The stranger wrote something down on his pad.
“Remember? What do you mean?”
“Well…you should know who I am. Well…who Mephiles is attributed to.”
“Why should I?” Allen asked, more out of confusion than being smart.
Mephiles raised a brow and stroked his round chin with his hand, currently buried in the middle portion of the sleeve. “Well, for one thing. You are a red eyes.”
“Red eyes?” Something about hearing that prompted a slight headache. Despite the annoyance of the pain, it didn’t compare to the feeling he felt after. Something filled his mind. Images, scenes, memories, things that he knew. Or felt like he did. “Red eyes,” he repeated, this time in a firmer tone. “Red eyes…wai' ... the red eyes be a…an organization.”
“Yes,” Mephiles said, growingly annoyed at how slow this was going. “Look, you might find your memories come back as we talk.”
“Come back? Wai', a minute.” Allen stood up and began looking around frantically. “Where's t' asylum? wasn' I on rehabili'a'ion?” His eyes stared at Mephiles’s bored looking ones, begging for answers.
Mephiles gave a hefty sigh as he rolled his neck and said. “Well…if you want to know now. Your name was ‘Allen Evans’ and y-”
Allen interrupted with, “wai', wha' do you mean by ‘was’?”
Mephiles gave him an annoyed glare and stated, “Well if you want to know now I suggest you shut your curious yammer up so I can explain it.”
Allen shrank back a little from the reprimand and sat back down on the comfy little couch and focused on listening intently.
“Basically, you were experiencing a memory of yours. You see that memory was five years ago.”
Allen felt his heart sink at hearing that. Five years? He repeated in his mind in disbelief. Five years‽ How, h-h-how is that possible?
“And well, three years ago you were convicted of murdering a few fellow rehabilitating patients in an escape attempt. This lead to a few more things where you started doing some murdering of some Lunis soldiers and scientists and well eventually was caught. Of course, you also caused plenty of collateral damage.”
Five fellow patients and I went on a killin’ spree? Allen began to tremble. He was a murderer.
“Yes, and well…you were sentenced to be executed for your…hmmm violence. You see, your what vocabulary dried up peace enforcers would call a serial murderer. Here this explains it better.” Mephiles offered a piece of paper to Allen, who accepted it with shaking hands. Mephiles started taking some notes while Allen began reading this information.
Report Notice:
Convict: Allen Evans – rebels faction Maulers – alias Torcher
Caught in skirmish with local city rangers during a case of shutting down a planned attack upon against a research facility. Acquired with a couple other combatants listed below and has been tried and shall be scheduled for execution.
His eyes widened as the report fell from his shaky hands. His eyes just stared at the floor, wide and full of fear as he began to sweat. “W-wha’s…what’s going on?”
“…I thought we got past that.” Mephiles gave an annoyed groan. “You’re here so I can see if any damage was done to you from the-”
“No! Tell me wha’s goin’ on!” He jumped to his feet staring firmly at the unflinching ghost. “Why was I in tha' damn prison, why don’t I remember doing anythin' in this le''er, why am I in this group, wha' tes' was I doin', and why the reverse am I 'ere‽”
Mephiles gave him a stern scowl and gave a little cough before saying, “sit down…now.” Something about the ghost’s voice this time felt … vicious, like an Yveltal telling you to bow before he sucks you dry.
Due to this drastic aura surrounding the command, Allen complied and sat down.
Mephiles cleared his throat and said, “You’ll know once we stop blocking your specific memory passages. Now before you get all into a hissy fit listen. I need you to answer some specific questions about this.” Mephiles starting writing some notes, recording each answer Allen gave him about whatever physical, mental, or presence related questions the ghost had. Once Mephiles had gathered what he wanted he placed his notebook into his clock somewhere and said, “Alright I’m done. You can remove it.”
A sharp stinging pain surged in Allen’s head, which sent him to the floor moaning in agony. “I though',” he stuttered as he curled on his side, “I though' you said this would fix my-”
“It’s a lot of information you dolt,” Mephiles spat, “have some freaking common sense about you. Now, do you remember anything additional?”
Allen complied and thought. No wait a minute, red eyes so his name wasn’t Allen anymore. What was it again? KI789 was his subject name so it probably is something else. He decided to think about the prison he was at. Plenty of memories and all flooded his mind. But why was he there? Ah right, he was capture. Wait, captured? Oh that’s right, mercenary work during the conflicts surrounding territory dispute. So why did he leave? It was because of some words. The words, “Project log 451: Soul Uniformation”
His eyes shot open as he looked around realizing he had said those same words aloud. He looked at the ghost, whose head was cocked over to one side, looking rather perplexed. Allen gave an inwards sigh of relief, at least this one didn’t know about it.
“Do you remember everything now?” Mephiles inquired, leaning in a little.
“Uh…yes, yes I do. Though, can I ask you somethin'?”
“What?” the ghost asked, a little flustered at his leave being interrupted again.
“What is my red eyes name?”
“…I don’t know. I didn’t name you or know of someone who did.” With those blunt words, Mephiles left the room, leaving KI789 all alone.
KI789 leaned his back on a wall, in deep thought about all that had transpired. It all had come back to him now. The experiment the enforcers were supposed to do and how he was selected to undertake it. The explanation about how it would require a seal lock on his memories psychically while in the soul link and a bunch of other fancy terms.
Despite having all this back, one thing he didn’t have back was what peace he remembered having before then. He recalled how originally joining the red eyes was a ticket away from death, an opportunity to become something more. However, going through this…seeing that thing playing as him and all that weird shit made him wonder what the project was really about.
“I’m in enforcers…so it’s not like t' science division tells us anythin',” he mumbled to himself as he looked down at the ground past his folded arms. He looked to his right where he saw one of the higher up enforcers conversing with some lackeys, or what KI789 presumed to be lackeys.
Project Soul Uniformation. Tha’s why I lef' tha' chamber. I found ou' they were workin' on soul splicin' for creatin' be''er made mons. He cringed in his mind at the thought of it. It’s beyond barbaric. Even though I’m used to death tha’s one thin', but splicin' others…
That mere concept was enough for him to have to leave. What if he was next? Who in their right mind would stay? He gave an agitated growl as he got off his wall position and decided to beat the stress out of him.
To get to the training area, he had to go through a large dark storage area. He had no idea or memory of what they would put in here and right now he didn’t care. Something about being flushed with memories about sinister projects made him want to avoid finding the answer about what his superiors kept here.
As he went on his way, something caught his eye. It was something akin to some little red shine. Mesmerized by it, he slowly approached it till he stumbled over something and fell face forwards onto the ground. As he picked himself up, he was suddenly grabbed by someone from behind.
“Snooping aren’t we?” a raspy voice snapped as it shoved the poor heatmor into a few crates to the right.
“Wha?” KI789 looked over his assailant. It was a bisharp, glaring at KI789 as if he had committed a grave offense.
“So you be the thieving fucktard!”
Before KI789 had a chance to respond he was promptly thrown on the ground, next to where a red crystal lay. He didn’t stay on the ground for long, because he quickly rolled out of the way of the bisharp’s firm planting down of his metal foot where KI789’s stomach had been.
“Hang on, sir. I didn-” KI789 started, trying to get on his feet. Unfortunately, he was swiped across the face with a firm leg sweep, sending him spinning into a crate’s side. He tried to pull himself up with it, but didn’t have to due to being grabbed again and smacked in the gut by a Brick Break. KI789 clenched his stomach as he sank to a knee, looking upwards in confusion, just in time to get kicked in the face.
“Don’t talk dumbass. I can assure you, you stole it.” The bisharp swiped a nearby pole, grabbing the cut off part as it spun in the air. “So,” he said cruelly as he lightly tapped the metal rod onto his other hand, “time to teach you to fucking steal from me.” With a swift force, the bisharp swung the metal bar down, aiming for KI789’s head.
The heatmor managed to get his hands in the way, having them take in the pain from the battering. Blow after blow he endured, trying to keep from the bar hitting his face. Why is he attacking me? KI789 said in his head, almost like a plea for answers. Wha’ did I do? Stop i’! Stop! I don’ wan’ t’ die! Something surged inside of him.
Something felt like a voice speaking in his head, telling him that it was either him or the other. A whisper saying things like, “You need to get away. The red eyes are evil. No one will listen to you and your death won’t matter. You’re nothing.” A red light began to shine nearby, possibly from the red crystal nearby as the whispers finished with. “Are you going to let him kill you?”
These words brought out something in KI789. He felt ravenous, an urge of anger and hatred at his assailant, especially at those smug red eyes. He saw the bar being pulled up by the evil mon, ready to bring down but this time, KI789 was ready. The bar firmly swung down and was quickly grabbed by a waiting KI789.
KI789 pulled at the bar as he blew a small Fire Spin into the bisharp’s face. As the bisharp staggered back, wiping its face to try and stop the stinging, KI789 tightened his grip on it and firmly swung the metal bar horizontally, smacking the bisharp on the side. As the bisharp fell on a knee, KI789 moved the bar to backhand and swung upwards, knocking the bisharp about two feet in the air till he landed onto his back. Before the bisharp had any chance to defend himself, KI789 grabbed the metal bar with both hands, leaped upon the down mon, and forcefully shoved the sharp end of the pole through one of the bisharp’s eyes.
The former attacker was now howling in pain as his gauntlet like hands went for the bar, almost on instinct. KI789 didn’t give him a fighting chance, however, as the metal pole was quickly pulled out and the other eye was stabbed with it.
As if he was in a fit of bloodlust rage, KI789 kept stabbing and stabbing into the bisharp’s head, long after he was dead. He seemed to be unable to stop maybe he didn’t even want to stop. Not even when he started to see the pool of red growing into a larger, larger circle around the mon’s head. Suddenly, KI789 felt a strange dizziness in his head. The metal bar fell out of his hands, as the immovable grip was replaced with shaky hands. All of KI789’s nerves felt like they were shaking with terror. It took a while before he could calm himself enough to relax his nerves and move again with potentially falling over.
He looked at the corpse he had created extremely fearful. He looked all around, trying to see if he had been seen or if anyone was approaching. In doing this, his eyes fell upon the red crystal, lying motionless on the ground. Strangely, its gleam was gone, wearing a slightly darker shade of the red he had seen before.
KI789 walked over and picked it up, gazing at it deeply. A feeling crept down his spine. His legs felt cold as his heart felt like it was stopping. The red crystal seemed to almost look back at him, except with a gaze that almost felt like it was smiling. This thin'…I… KI789 pulled the crystal to his chest as he pondered what to do. I ‘ave t’ ge’ ou’ o’ ‘ere. I’ll be killed if I don’. After one more look around, KI789 quickly began to rush out, breathing heavy and unsure about his future.
Behind some crates watching him leave, a figure in a black coat with a hood covering the head said, “safe travels.” This stranger turned around and started to walk away.
“Doing things behind my back, Ahuizotl?” The figure stopped as the speaker stepped into view. This figure wore a similar cloak to the murder witness and took off his hood. “I don’t like when you do that in my area especially if it comprises of killing enforcer leaders.” Mephiles gave this stranger a cold look.
The figure looked at him in silence from underneath the hood.
Mephiles let out a sigh as he rubbed his cranium, saying, “I would have appreciated if you had let me know what you were planning to do. It saves me time and headache and you being labeled suspect upon arrival.”
“Oh please, Mephiles,” the figure replied taking off his hood. A lycanroc with a short main and short top head fur was revealed, his color being the basic white and grey. “If I announced everything I planned to do that would put potential danger of it leaking, no?”
“And your plan comprises of killing our own red eyes?” Mephiles pointed out.
“My plan comprises of doing what I must.” Ahuizotl started walking, joined by Mephiles at his side. “I will say that I need him to have gone.”
“Why?” Mephiles inquired, “Did you set up the project going wrong?”
Ahuizotl gave a little smirk as he said in a light tone, “possibly.”
“Arceus damn-…ugh, you better have a good reason.”
“I do…” Ahuizotl looked up with a smile. “I’m currently working on something that is important to our aims. In order to do that, I need to prepare. He will be one of the things I require so I can manage all the threads.”
“Threads?” Mephiles repeated.
Ahuizotl gave him a bland look and stated, “I have many pawns in this course of actions I am setting up. Just like you have the science division’s research, Azazel is in Amestria, Pathos is recruiting and hunting after the ta-”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Mephiles answered, rushing him saying it clearly showing his indifference.
“Trust me, Mephiles.” Ahuizotl stopped. He looked at Mephiles in the eyes as a dark twisted smile crossed his face. It was almost as if it snuffed out any peaceful aura around.
Mephiles was unphased, merely getting annoyed at Ahuizotl’s overly dramatic pausing.
“It will be far worth it for our cause.”
“It better be,” Mephiles grumbled as he floated on. “Else, I have half a mind to make you donate as much blood as was lost today.”
As the ghost floated away, Ahuizotl pulled his hood back over his head with one paw. I’m sure you’ll agree when you see what we catch because of it. A controlled pawn that isn’t aware he is one is better than simply having a tool. We aren’t masters of every proper approach or perspective, and that is where freedom in chains truly is an interesting thing. Ahuizotl gave a little chuckle to himself as he walked down a row of crates. “To surpass our limits,” he whispered under his breath as he vanished in the dark areas of the storage facility.
This story does contain: Language, Blood, Violence, Psychological Stress, and Mephiles condescension at minor levels.
I'd also like to give a shout out to Cavespider_17 for helping me with the accents.
With that said, I hope you enjoy!
Mentally Caged
A Shattered Crests one-shot
“Ugh, mornin’ already” a heatmor yawned, rolling over onto his side. Of course, this resulted with his face getting engulfed with sunlight. He uttered an angry grunt, finally giving up on getting any more sleep. Lazily sitting up, the heatmor started rubbing his eyes and yawned, looking around his little room. Same small stone built room. Same bars on windows. Same bed that had seen better days, and same door.
Wonder what time ‘t is? He threw the raggedy blanket off his body and got off the metal bed, rolling his arms and head. His gaze went to the door with a slight bar window, his only view outside his little lodgings.
“Any reason they haven’ come yet? They allus come…” he muttered aloud as he walked over to the door. Despite trying various angles, he sadly couldn’t seem more than about six feet’s worth of the rock hallway wall opposite his lodging.
“Ey up!” He gave a hard smack on the door with his fist, “You goin’ t’ come ‘ere ‘nd wake me up or owt?” A few more hard bangs on the door followed. “Ey up! Doctor!” He kept banging and banging on it, but nobody came.
Finally, he gave a disgruntled snarl and went over to sit on his bed. The sunlight felt like a nice little massage to try and replace his frustration with the feeling of pleasant warmth. Besides, what was a few minutes of waiting for the idiot? It would just mean he’d get more time in this sunlight. More time to gaze at his window to world outside and feel the freshness and wonder if brought into his little room.
After a while, it was starting to get annoying. With a hefty grunt he got back up and once again marched up to the door and began banging it again. “Ey up! You goin’ t’ keep me waitin’ in this stoopid room‽”
“That’s one way to say it.”
The heatmor turned around, looking for whoever said that. But no one was there. “Oh? I could’ve sworn.” Suddenly, the sound of creaking happened from behind. He slowly turned his head to see the door, which hadn’t moved at all from his beatings upon it, was now open by just an inviting sliver.
Cautiously, the heatmor opened the door with a slight tap. Nothing but the creaking of the door followed, prompting him to take a look. Everything about the hallways seemed normal. The hallways lined with barred windows all the way down to the stairs leading down to the lower floors. The floor looked like it had been walked on a lot, but wasn’t detestable to look at nor harbored any kind of foul smell.
He carefully opened the door enough to step out and looked around. So…is this a test? He scratched his brown head and crossed his scarlet red arms, with small stripes of white lines in the normal heatmor pattern. Well…be’’er repor’ myself. Up an’ a’ ‘em. Just so they don’ ge’ t’ wrong idea.
The walls felt oddly closed in, or maybe that was just the absence of others around. Despite the inconvenience that it normally presented, the heatmor sort of missed having to occasionally step to the side or move out of the way of others. Speaking of which, where was everyone?
After about twenty minutes of searching around the facility, he finally stopped to think. Is this some kinda gut chuckin’ test?
Suddenly, he heard something like dark laughter coming from behind him. He spun around, only to be met with the wall he was leaning on. “What the? Maybe a psychic type.” His eyes narrowed as his nerves stiffened and he peered around the hallway. After asserting no one was nearby he put his hand on the door in front of him. Well, this is the main hall where we go before trainin’. Let’s check it out.
As he opened the door, something surged inside his mind. It felt like an intense surge of pain like a needle piercing into his skull. He fell onto the ground, grasping his head in agony. Strangely, just as soon as it had come, it went away. “What the?” He rolled on his back, panting slightly, trying to process all that had just happened.
As he started to get back to his feet some strange feeling crossed his head. A foreign feeling crept in him, or was it him creeping in something foreign. It wasn’t till he stopped to think about these things before he noticed something off about the floor. Black? Isn’t it just dirt for battling? He carefully looked up and his eyes shot open at what he saw.
The large spacious room he was expecting was simply replaced by a dark room. Nothing was around, no one was around, save for something on the opposite end from the door. A mirror. Once he was on his feet, he advanced towards the odd mirror. Heh, just my reflection, an’ a damn han’some one it be, He chuckled slightly to himself, trying to calm down his nerves. He smirked at how silly his brown head looked. How old it seemed despite just being middle-aged. I mean, I don’ think I look tha’ bad, he muttered giving his head a little brush for a confidence boost. He looked directly into the reflection’s eyes. Yep…orange - as they should be. Something about seeing them made him feel a little…down. He wasn’t sure why. Pro’bly because of this room be weird.
His eyes moved from the face down to his solid scarlet red, white lined body, built up rather well since being here. Most noticeable was how well built his arms had gotten. Wait? He peered closer at the arm in the image, confirming what he suspected he saw. Why is it shaking? He slowly leaned down to get a closer look at it. Why does that look so…no, feel…huh? Wait.
He looked up at him in the mirror and to his horror it was still standing up straight like he was before. But that fact alone wasn’t what scared him; it was the look of its eyes looking down at him with such a nefarious look. “Wha’? Why they be-?” He backed away at the figure looking at him. “Why do, I ‘ave them red eyes?”
“Don’t you remember?”
“Remember?”
“Who you are? Why you are here?”
“Aye, I’m Allen Fiemer”
The figure gave a little smirk, as if he knew the heatmor was lying. “Well then how do you explain these?” The reflection of him pointed to the red eyes, slowly dragging it from his face, materializing a few scars.
“It’s some kind of mental messin’ with me. You aren’t me,” the heatmor accused.
“Aren’t I, KIL789”
“What?”
“This place…this room…it’s not like the outside. What does that tell you?”
“You’ full o’ I’!”
The dark figure laughed sinisterly as his tongue gave a little slither. “Well…then leave if you want. But first, mind telling me how you got this?”
The figure pointed to something on his neck. It looked like a scar that went all around his neck. Something like a neck brace, but had been on tight enough to indent itself into his skin. Slowly, Allen, felt his own neck and just like the figure had said, he felt the scars. “W-w-what?” he exclaimed in shock.
“That’s something you have. I ask again.” The figure’s eyes narrowed and gleamed with a little dark glee. “This place is not like the outside…what does that tell you?”
Allen paused and looked back at the door. It was open, the light from the hallway he had been in prior shining slightly into this bland place he now resided. I’ve had enough of-
This damn light….? Wait, why am I-
Talkin’ in my head? Allen spun around, only to see the mon in the mirror was gone.
The sound of laughter filled his mind. The mirror cracked in front of him and splattered, its cracked pieces falling all over the black ground. “Stop it! Stop it!” he roared, grabbing his head violently. “Stop invading my head! Stop-”
“Pretendin’ to be him.”
He darted out of the room, but even in the warm embrace of the light the laughter of a demon still filled his mind.
“I’ve got to find help!” he shouted aloud, as he stumbled his face down the hallway. “Help, somebody!” But no one was around. He collapsed down onto all fours panting heavily, his arms aching with a strange fatigue as they felt they were about to crumble.
Something grabbed his head and pulled it upwards. The red eyes version of himself looked down upon him with a dark smile.
Allen was so overwhelmed by all this he couldn’t help but laugh. Laugh at what he was seeing. This being in front of him. His replacement. Himself, who he was standing right abo- beneath him. He held the darkly laughing figure. The red eyes leering at him with terror and delight. Allen’s eyes narrowed as he placed his other hand on the back of this creature’s neck and twisted. The body fell to the side, still laughing. “Stop laughin’!” Allen shouted, seizing the maniac and shaking him violently. “Stop laughin’ like-”
“We would do that!”
The laughing one smirked as he exclaimed, “I can’t hear you, I’m too-”
“Flayed.” Tears starting to roll down his laughing face.
“I said stop!” Allen started punching this mon, over and over adding another command to stop after every three punched levied.
…
“Stop laughin’! Stop laughin’!”
“Allen! Stop pretendin’ Allen! Stop existin’ Allen! Die like you were supposed to ALLEN!”
…
“Sir, he’s unstable,” An ursaring in a white lab coat with a helm said.
“Damnit, apply the calming agent,” a mon in a black cloak commanded.
Immediately the urasring and another assistant rushed upon KIL789, who was shouting out loud with his eyes shut. The ursaring tried to keep him from shaking, while the other out and orb, pressing it to reveal a needle. He then dipped it into some liquid and promptly stuck it into KIL789’s neck making him scream out loud and try to thrash at everything as the agent entered his body.
Slowly his consciousness started to fade, the doctors, the other him with the bloodied face he was punching, the eyes looking at him, all of it.
< O >
“KI789?”
Allen slowly opened his eyes, but found it hard to open them wide due to a white emura contrasting with the dark room he was apparently in. He felt something soft on his side, like he was laying on some couch. As his eyes drifted to look, he found his initial suspicions correct.
As he started to wake up, he felt a little pain in his neck. His hand moved to give it some ease with a rub, only to find there was a bandage on it. The pain went to his head and he proceeded to divert his rubbing to it instead.
“Where…am I?” Allen asked the voice, taking a few blinks to adjust to the lighting.
Sitting in front of him looked like some kind of banette. This banette had gleaming red eyes, was wearing a black robe around his little body. His outfit’s sleeves looked a bit too long and thus drooped down to the ground. Speaking of ground, this banette was floating up in the air, about head level with Allen if he was sitting on the couch.
“You, are currently in the overseer’s office. You had an unfortunate experience so I’m required to see how things are in that head of yours.”
Allen blinked for a few seconds, not entirely sure what this stranger meant or what happened. “Who are you?” he asked, though got a little startled when this ghost type gave an aggravated moan.
“Going to be like that huh?” The ghost grumbled for a second before clearing his throat and stating. “Well…my name is Mephiles an-”
“Mephiles?” Allen repeated, moving a hand to his head as if he should know that name.
“Yes, Mephiles. What did I not say my own name to suite your taste or is that the psychological trauma talking right now?”
“Psycological? Taste?...Wha' happened?”
The stranger’s eyes narrowed as he peered closer at Allen. He gazed deeply into Allen’s eyes as if trying to read his soul and in the process make him very uncomfortable. “Huh…so you don’t remember.” The stranger wrote something down on his pad.
“Remember? What do you mean?”
“Well…you should know who I am. Well…who Mephiles is attributed to.”
“Why should I?” Allen asked, more out of confusion than being smart.
Mephiles raised a brow and stroked his round chin with his hand, currently buried in the middle portion of the sleeve. “Well, for one thing. You are a red eyes.”
“Red eyes?” Something about hearing that prompted a slight headache. Despite the annoyance of the pain, it didn’t compare to the feeling he felt after. Something filled his mind. Images, scenes, memories, things that he knew. Or felt like he did. “Red eyes,” he repeated, this time in a firmer tone. “Red eyes…wai' ... the red eyes be a…an organization.”
“Yes,” Mephiles said, growingly annoyed at how slow this was going. “Look, you might find your memories come back as we talk.”
“Come back? Wai', a minute.” Allen stood up and began looking around frantically. “Where's t' asylum? wasn' I on rehabili'a'ion?” His eyes stared at Mephiles’s bored looking ones, begging for answers.
Mephiles gave a hefty sigh as he rolled his neck and said. “Well…if you want to know now. Your name was ‘Allen Evans’ and y-”
Allen interrupted with, “wai', wha' do you mean by ‘was’?”
Mephiles gave him an annoyed glare and stated, “Well if you want to know now I suggest you shut your curious yammer up so I can explain it.”
Allen shrank back a little from the reprimand and sat back down on the comfy little couch and focused on listening intently.
“Basically, you were experiencing a memory of yours. You see that memory was five years ago.”
Allen felt his heart sink at hearing that. Five years? He repeated in his mind in disbelief. Five years‽ How, h-h-how is that possible?
“And well, three years ago you were convicted of murdering a few fellow rehabilitating patients in an escape attempt. This lead to a few more things where you started doing some murdering of some Lunis soldiers and scientists and well eventually was caught. Of course, you also caused plenty of collateral damage.”
Five fellow patients and I went on a killin’ spree? Allen began to tremble. He was a murderer.
“Yes, and well…you were sentenced to be executed for your…hmmm violence. You see, your what vocabulary dried up peace enforcers would call a serial murderer. Here this explains it better.” Mephiles offered a piece of paper to Allen, who accepted it with shaking hands. Mephiles started taking some notes while Allen began reading this information.
Report Notice:
Convict: Allen Evans – rebels faction Maulers – alias Torcher
Caught in skirmish with local city rangers during a case of shutting down a planned attack upon against a research facility. Acquired with a couple other combatants listed below and has been tried and shall be scheduled for execution.
His eyes widened as the report fell from his shaky hands. His eyes just stared at the floor, wide and full of fear as he began to sweat. “W-wha’s…what’s going on?”
“…I thought we got past that.” Mephiles gave an annoyed groan. “You’re here so I can see if any damage was done to you from the-”
“No! Tell me wha’s goin’ on!” He jumped to his feet staring firmly at the unflinching ghost. “Why was I in tha' damn prison, why don’t I remember doing anythin' in this le''er, why am I in this group, wha' tes' was I doin', and why the reverse am I 'ere‽”
Mephiles gave him a stern scowl and gave a little cough before saying, “sit down…now.” Something about the ghost’s voice this time felt … vicious, like an Yveltal telling you to bow before he sucks you dry.
Due to this drastic aura surrounding the command, Allen complied and sat down.
Mephiles cleared his throat and said, “You’ll know once we stop blocking your specific memory passages. Now before you get all into a hissy fit listen. I need you to answer some specific questions about this.” Mephiles starting writing some notes, recording each answer Allen gave him about whatever physical, mental, or presence related questions the ghost had. Once Mephiles had gathered what he wanted he placed his notebook into his clock somewhere and said, “Alright I’m done. You can remove it.”
A sharp stinging pain surged in Allen’s head, which sent him to the floor moaning in agony. “I though',” he stuttered as he curled on his side, “I though' you said this would fix my-”
“It’s a lot of information you dolt,” Mephiles spat, “have some freaking common sense about you. Now, do you remember anything additional?”
Allen complied and thought. No wait a minute, red eyes so his name wasn’t Allen anymore. What was it again? KI789 was his subject name so it probably is something else. He decided to think about the prison he was at. Plenty of memories and all flooded his mind. But why was he there? Ah right, he was capture. Wait, captured? Oh that’s right, mercenary work during the conflicts surrounding territory dispute. So why did he leave? It was because of some words. The words, “Project log 451: Soul Uniformation”
His eyes shot open as he looked around realizing he had said those same words aloud. He looked at the ghost, whose head was cocked over to one side, looking rather perplexed. Allen gave an inwards sigh of relief, at least this one didn’t know about it.
“Do you remember everything now?” Mephiles inquired, leaning in a little.
“Uh…yes, yes I do. Though, can I ask you somethin'?”
“What?” the ghost asked, a little flustered at his leave being interrupted again.
“What is my red eyes name?”
“…I don’t know. I didn’t name you or know of someone who did.” With those blunt words, Mephiles left the room, leaving KI789 all alone.
< O >
KI789 leaned his back on a wall, in deep thought about all that had transpired. It all had come back to him now. The experiment the enforcers were supposed to do and how he was selected to undertake it. The explanation about how it would require a seal lock on his memories psychically while in the soul link and a bunch of other fancy terms.
Despite having all this back, one thing he didn’t have back was what peace he remembered having before then. He recalled how originally joining the red eyes was a ticket away from death, an opportunity to become something more. However, going through this…seeing that thing playing as him and all that weird shit made him wonder what the project was really about.
“I’m in enforcers…so it’s not like t' science division tells us anythin',” he mumbled to himself as he looked down at the ground past his folded arms. He looked to his right where he saw one of the higher up enforcers conversing with some lackeys, or what KI789 presumed to be lackeys.
Project Soul Uniformation. Tha’s why I lef' tha' chamber. I found ou' they were workin' on soul splicin' for creatin' be''er made mons. He cringed in his mind at the thought of it. It’s beyond barbaric. Even though I’m used to death tha’s one thin', but splicin' others…
That mere concept was enough for him to have to leave. What if he was next? Who in their right mind would stay? He gave an agitated growl as he got off his wall position and decided to beat the stress out of him.
To get to the training area, he had to go through a large dark storage area. He had no idea or memory of what they would put in here and right now he didn’t care. Something about being flushed with memories about sinister projects made him want to avoid finding the answer about what his superiors kept here.
As he went on his way, something caught his eye. It was something akin to some little red shine. Mesmerized by it, he slowly approached it till he stumbled over something and fell face forwards onto the ground. As he picked himself up, he was suddenly grabbed by someone from behind.
“Snooping aren’t we?” a raspy voice snapped as it shoved the poor heatmor into a few crates to the right.
“Wha?” KI789 looked over his assailant. It was a bisharp, glaring at KI789 as if he had committed a grave offense.
“So you be the thieving fucktard!”
Before KI789 had a chance to respond he was promptly thrown on the ground, next to where a red crystal lay. He didn’t stay on the ground for long, because he quickly rolled out of the way of the bisharp’s firm planting down of his metal foot where KI789’s stomach had been.
“Hang on, sir. I didn-” KI789 started, trying to get on his feet. Unfortunately, he was swiped across the face with a firm leg sweep, sending him spinning into a crate’s side. He tried to pull himself up with it, but didn’t have to due to being grabbed again and smacked in the gut by a Brick Break. KI789 clenched his stomach as he sank to a knee, looking upwards in confusion, just in time to get kicked in the face.
“Don’t talk dumbass. I can assure you, you stole it.” The bisharp swiped a nearby pole, grabbing the cut off part as it spun in the air. “So,” he said cruelly as he lightly tapped the metal rod onto his other hand, “time to teach you to fucking steal from me.” With a swift force, the bisharp swung the metal bar down, aiming for KI789’s head.
The heatmor managed to get his hands in the way, having them take in the pain from the battering. Blow after blow he endured, trying to keep from the bar hitting his face. Why is he attacking me? KI789 said in his head, almost like a plea for answers. Wha’ did I do? Stop i’! Stop! I don’ wan’ t’ die! Something surged inside of him.
Something felt like a voice speaking in his head, telling him that it was either him or the other. A whisper saying things like, “You need to get away. The red eyes are evil. No one will listen to you and your death won’t matter. You’re nothing.” A red light began to shine nearby, possibly from the red crystal nearby as the whispers finished with. “Are you going to let him kill you?”
These words brought out something in KI789. He felt ravenous, an urge of anger and hatred at his assailant, especially at those smug red eyes. He saw the bar being pulled up by the evil mon, ready to bring down but this time, KI789 was ready. The bar firmly swung down and was quickly grabbed by a waiting KI789.
KI789 pulled at the bar as he blew a small Fire Spin into the bisharp’s face. As the bisharp staggered back, wiping its face to try and stop the stinging, KI789 tightened his grip on it and firmly swung the metal bar horizontally, smacking the bisharp on the side. As the bisharp fell on a knee, KI789 moved the bar to backhand and swung upwards, knocking the bisharp about two feet in the air till he landed onto his back. Before the bisharp had any chance to defend himself, KI789 grabbed the metal bar with both hands, leaped upon the down mon, and forcefully shoved the sharp end of the pole through one of the bisharp’s eyes.
The former attacker was now howling in pain as his gauntlet like hands went for the bar, almost on instinct. KI789 didn’t give him a fighting chance, however, as the metal pole was quickly pulled out and the other eye was stabbed with it.
As if he was in a fit of bloodlust rage, KI789 kept stabbing and stabbing into the bisharp’s head, long after he was dead. He seemed to be unable to stop maybe he didn’t even want to stop. Not even when he started to see the pool of red growing into a larger, larger circle around the mon’s head. Suddenly, KI789 felt a strange dizziness in his head. The metal bar fell out of his hands, as the immovable grip was replaced with shaky hands. All of KI789’s nerves felt like they were shaking with terror. It took a while before he could calm himself enough to relax his nerves and move again with potentially falling over.
He looked at the corpse he had created extremely fearful. He looked all around, trying to see if he had been seen or if anyone was approaching. In doing this, his eyes fell upon the red crystal, lying motionless on the ground. Strangely, its gleam was gone, wearing a slightly darker shade of the red he had seen before.
KI789 walked over and picked it up, gazing at it deeply. A feeling crept down his spine. His legs felt cold as his heart felt like it was stopping. The red crystal seemed to almost look back at him, except with a gaze that almost felt like it was smiling. This thin'…I… KI789 pulled the crystal to his chest as he pondered what to do. I ‘ave t’ ge’ ou’ o’ ‘ere. I’ll be killed if I don’. After one more look around, KI789 quickly began to rush out, breathing heavy and unsure about his future.
Behind some crates watching him leave, a figure in a black coat with a hood covering the head said, “safe travels.” This stranger turned around and started to walk away.
“Doing things behind my back, Ahuizotl?” The figure stopped as the speaker stepped into view. This figure wore a similar cloak to the murder witness and took off his hood. “I don’t like when you do that in my area especially if it comprises of killing enforcer leaders.” Mephiles gave this stranger a cold look.
The figure looked at him in silence from underneath the hood.
Mephiles let out a sigh as he rubbed his cranium, saying, “I would have appreciated if you had let me know what you were planning to do. It saves me time and headache and you being labeled suspect upon arrival.”
“Oh please, Mephiles,” the figure replied taking off his hood. A lycanroc with a short main and short top head fur was revealed, his color being the basic white and grey. “If I announced everything I planned to do that would put potential danger of it leaking, no?”
“And your plan comprises of killing our own red eyes?” Mephiles pointed out.
“My plan comprises of doing what I must.” Ahuizotl started walking, joined by Mephiles at his side. “I will say that I need him to have gone.”
“Why?” Mephiles inquired, “Did you set up the project going wrong?”
Ahuizotl gave a little smirk as he said in a light tone, “possibly.”
“Arceus damn-…ugh, you better have a good reason.”
“I do…” Ahuizotl looked up with a smile. “I’m currently working on something that is important to our aims. In order to do that, I need to prepare. He will be one of the things I require so I can manage all the threads.”
“Threads?” Mephiles repeated.
Ahuizotl gave him a bland look and stated, “I have many pawns in this course of actions I am setting up. Just like you have the science division’s research, Azazel is in Amestria, Pathos is recruiting and hunting after the ta-”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Mephiles answered, rushing him saying it clearly showing his indifference.
“Trust me, Mephiles.” Ahuizotl stopped. He looked at Mephiles in the eyes as a dark twisted smile crossed his face. It was almost as if it snuffed out any peaceful aura around.
Mephiles was unphased, merely getting annoyed at Ahuizotl’s overly dramatic pausing.
“It will be far worth it for our cause.”
“It better be,” Mephiles grumbled as he floated on. “Else, I have half a mind to make you donate as much blood as was lost today.”
As the ghost floated away, Ahuizotl pulled his hood back over his head with one paw. I’m sure you’ll agree when you see what we catch because of it. A controlled pawn that isn’t aware he is one is better than simply having a tool. We aren’t masters of every proper approach or perspective, and that is where freedom in chains truly is an interesting thing. Ahuizotl gave a little chuckle to himself as he walked down a row of crates. “To surpass our limits,” he whispered under his breath as he vanished in the dark areas of the storage facility.
