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Nemesis
Nov 7, 2019 21:05:16 GMT -8
Post by unknownmercury on Nov 7, 2019 21:05:16 GMT -8
Chapters from Mercury's perspective as Jared tries to regain memories.
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Nemesis
Nov 7, 2019 21:10:51 GMT -8
Post by unknownmercury on Nov 7, 2019 21:10:51 GMT -8
Nemesis Part 1
The light was blinding for a moment; he'd spent so long locked away in the darkness, and he embraced the shadows. Light was almost a foreign concept to him. It took him a few moments to place just where the light was coming from.
A crack in the wall of his prison, a small ray of hope for him. He went over and peered out, ignoring the chains that dragged at his wrists and ankles. Outside, the landscape was... decimated. Something big had happened, and he had been too isolated to notice or care. What had once been a peaceful plain had withered and turned black. Sunshine had vanished, replaced by clouds that looked like pitch.
Something had changed drastically. No doubt, it was the cause behind this crack in the wall. If the wall was weakening, maybe he could break his way out. He looked down at the chains, glowing teal and blinding silver in his vision. He focused his will towards them, sending streaks of bruise-like purple and the maroon of old blood through them.
The chains shattered, and he laughed. Then, remembering where he was, he went silent. The Enemy could be out there, still. As he watched, in fact, the figure appeared, outlined against the dim glow behind the clouds. Doors sprang into existence, and the Enemy entered one, only to reappear instantly, glowing a faint silver.
What had happened, here? The doors were familiar, as was the figure in the clearing. Was the Enemy trying a new form of meditation or--
No. He was trying to access his memories. That was why the doors were made in the first place. They accessed the Memory Palace that he had helped the Enemy build. His foe seemed to be having trouble, however. He entered the same door thrice over before vanishing, leaving the doors he had entered wide open.
"Idiot," he scoffed. "That was lesson one we learned. Leave the doors open, and anyone can get to them..." He grinned.
Anyone could get to them. He focused, and the purple and red shattered the wall of his prison. He walked purposefully towards the doors, peeking into each one without placing himself inside. He did not belong in those, the earliest memories.
Instead, he conjured a new door, one that shone like new. Forcing it open revealed that his Enemy had woken up lost and confused, and then went to pursue a goal, one that only He knew.
A curse passed his lips, and he slammed the door closed, sending it back to where the doors were supposed to go. Well, he would find out soon enough. He started walking across the plain.
A week of idle thoughts and boredom, and then he found himself stumbling as a vision flashed across the sky. A city, a man talking. He knew the scene. Vermilion; they had been discussing future plans with the annalist. Saving people, milking them for money. It was his dream.
There was another sensation, this one of sound. "...Floaroma Town..." He exerted his will on the plane around him. Rather than a door, flowers sprang up. Each of them was coated in blood. That was his fondest memory of that accursed little town, anyways.
Finally, he made it to his destination. A small pond, set in a ring of trees. The water was black and tar-like, but that was just how he liked it. He knelt down and brushed his fingers across the surface. The ripples carried over the water, revealing an image. A darkened building, and a large fight.
He felt the Enemy reaching for instincts, trying to prevail despite being outnumbered. With a grin, he slipped into the pond, closing his eyes. The fight went pretty shortly after that, and he conjured another memory for the Enemy.
And then he sat back to watch, confident that the Enemy would call on him for what came next. The Enemy spoke to some girl, telling her to leave and take 'Blazer.' Odd. The Enemy- the boy, really. He wasn't worthy of being a foe now - did not want her to see him brutalize their assailant.
Ah, well. He would have to retrain his host, teach him that growing close was a mistake. For now... He felt the boy reaching out again, and he answered the call. "You know," he said, taking full control for the first time in who knew how long, "last time I did this, I had a knife..."
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Nemesis
Nov 7, 2019 21:14:34 GMT -8
Post by unknownmercury on Nov 7, 2019 21:14:34 GMT -8
Nemesis Part 2
He huddled in the corner, blood streaming down his jaw and neck and soaking into the collar of his shirt. His head throbbed, and his right eye was swollen shut. He watched, frightened, as his father threw a mug, shattering it against the wall beside him.
It was par for the course. He had done everything his father had asked of him that day, but he had overcooked the steaks his father had ordered for dinner. It didn't take much to send the man into a blind rage. The boy wasn't even crying at this point; tears would do him no good, only make the beating worse. "I've had enough of this! I work to make your lives better, and what does it get me? Disrespect! I trained you to be what you are, and you defy me in every possible way!" The man was slamming around in the kitchen now, pulling open drawers and throwing them to the floor. He yelled a curse. "Lucy! Where are all the knives?!" The boy turned to look at his mother. The wman was pressed against the wall, well out of her husband's way. She didn't speak, which wasn't surprising. She had a busted lip from a few nights before, when she'd stepped between her husband and her son. "Nevermind you useless piece of trash! Found 'em." He came back into the living room, wielding a large chef's knife. The boyshuddered. His father didn't need a knife; the cut running up his jaw showed that. As the large, burly man approached, the boy locked eyes with his mother. He took after her, with his pale skin and fair hair. As his father started to raise the knife, she launched herself from the wall, slamming into his back. The two slammed into the wall near the boy, and the man grunted before turning. The mother grabbed at his wrist, trying to take the knife, only to be backhanded away. "Fine," he said, and only that. As the woman started to rise, he slashed with the blade. Blood sprayed, and she collapsed again, unmoving. The boy could only watch in horror as it all happened. He was going to die. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. No, he thought. Not like this. As his father approached, the boy surged to his feet, silver fire forming in his hands. His father stepped back, surprised. It was the first aura sphere he had managed, and the boy launched it directly into his father's stomach. As the man flew through the air, he dropped the knife. Feeling dizzy -- that had taken a lot out of him -- he grabbed the knife. He could leave, now. He had beaten his abuser, and that man would never be able to hurt him again. If he left now, that would be the end of it. But he couldn't let the man continue to hurt others. A voice in the back of his mind was speaking, giving plenty of good reasons to end this menace, and no reasons to leave him alive. He reached out to try and communicate with his best friend, but the Lucario was oddly silent. With a scowl, he approached his father. The man looked up at him, still dazed. As he opened his mouth to speak, the boy shoved the blade into his throat. The man choked and slowly drowned in his own blood. The boy collected his Lucario's ball, as well as the pokéball of his father's Lapras. He packed quickly and left the house, shuddering. He would have to leave the town, if not the region. His father had been a well-respected man with powerful, influential friends. Being an ex-cop would do that. As he walked, he continued to hear that voice in his head. It was a cold, frightened voice, one that distrusted everything it saw. The boy spoke to it soothingly as he made his way out of Snowpoint. He was glad that night came early this far north at this time of year. It meant that there was nobody to see the blood freezing to his neck and stiffening the collar of his shirt. As he continued speaking with the voice, it reminded him of rumors he had heard. There was an organization, a mercenary unit that took in those who had nowhere to go. They had been wandering around Sinnoh, and were supposedly in Eterna City right now. He would go there and join up, and hopefully be out of the region before anyone recognized him. --- Mercury watched all this as the person controlling his body dealt with the people in the gym. The voice had told him about this door, these memories, and told him to learn while they worked. He shook his head, sighing. He would have gladly done without these memories, but they were important. They had allowed him to remember some important parts of himself. Namely, he now remembered what his name had been, once upon a time. Not that it mattered. Jared Winter was as good as dead. All that remained now was Mercury.
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Nemesis
Nov 7, 2019 21:15:08 GMT -8
Post by unknownmercury on Nov 7, 2019 21:15:08 GMT -8
Nemesis Part 3
Croaker looked at the boy in front of him and thought several curses. The kid was scrawny, underfed, in tattered clothes, and those were just the tip of the iceberg. "Who gave you the gash and the black eye?" he asked.
The kid shrugged. "Nobody worth mentioning, he casually replied. The annalist had to smile a bit. Kid had an attitude. He wouldn't last a week in the Company.
"Is that 'nobody' the reason you tracked us down?" They were in Eterna to relax for a while and resupply and recruit after a long mission and several casualties. The boy looked like he'd walked for weeks to get here.
The silver-haired boy shrugged. "Does it matter? I was told you all take on anyone who's willing." The Black Company was famous for this very stance. They took in degenerates and scoundrels, thieves and murderers. It was the only sort of person who lasted long.
"Well, you're right about that," said Croaker, "but we mostly only take young men and old. We don't usually get boys wanting to live our life." The kid looked twelve, maybe thirteen. Still, Croaker could see a look in his one unswollen eye, the look of a man who'd gone through fire.
"I guess," he said, hardly believing the words left his own mouth, "that we can make an exception, though. What should I call you?" He would have to talk to the Captain and bring him around. The old man never liked new blood, and this would send him into a fury.
"I guess my old name is dead, now. Call me Mercury."
Croaker nodded. A name of poison. Was that the boy labeling himself, or just a coincidence? Time would tell...
--
Mercury looked around the battlefield, feeling numb. It had been his first fight; a knife sat comfortably in his hands. He couldn't believe how quick that had been. Their current employer -- a contract of a year had stretched to three -- had gotten word about a small group of rebels in the peaceful-looking town of Floaroma.
The Company had come in during the night, only one or two slipping into town at a time, each taking a designated place. They'd blocked off the two roads leading out of Floaroma, and the Captain had announced their presence.
The rebels had been caught with their pants down. It could hardly be called a battle. "Massacre" seemed more apt. Twenty or so rebels with only a handful of pokémon and weapons against the hundred men of the Company.
The flowers that made the town famous were bathed in blood. Mercury had knocked one woman unconscious. As he was debating over what to do with her from there, a man rushed at him. Without thinking, Mercury had brought his knife up and jabbed it into the man's stomach.
His hands were stained with blood, and the sun was rising over the grisly scene. The Captain was ordering everyone to pack up and withdraw. They weren't hired to hold the town or the people, only to eliminate the rebels and discourage further attempts. They had done that.
As they marched out, Croaker the annalist put a hand on Mercury's shoulder. "Having second thoughts?" he asked.
Jared-- No, Mercury, he corrected. Mercury shook his head. "That was exciting. I think you're stuck with me, old man."
The annalist laughed. "That's what I was hoping for. You're gonna do fine, kid."
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Nemesis
Nov 7, 2019 21:16:30 GMT -8
Post by unknownmercury on Nov 7, 2019 21:16:30 GMT -8
Nemesis Part 4 They had finished up in Vermilion, and were standing on the dock while they waited for their ship to fuel and load. Croaker and his Xatu were leaning against a building while they spoke with the kid in front of them. "You did pretty good last night, Mercury. Those rebels never even knew we were there." Honestly, it had been kind of scary to watch. Mercury had made his way through the base with a terrible aura swirling around him, and had snuffed out every life he came across without thinking twice about it. The silver-haired teen shrugged softly. "Did what I needed to. We're still technically under contract; if we didn't handle them, our . . . employers would get suspicious." He sighed. "So, what's next on the list?" Croaker sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Xatu says we need to make haste for Lavaridge, over in Hoenn. We've got two dozen men headed that way already, and we're bringing another twenty with us. Once we get there . . ." "We'll tell the townspeople what's coming, take their money, and fail to defend them?" He looked over his shoulder at the old annalist, his silver eyes hard. "Sounds like a plan, I guess." Croaker shook his head. "You know how it is. These things are getting . . . crazy. We'll see what we can do, but we lost almost sixty soldiers last time. If this is anything like that, we might have to call it a wash." Mercury sighed and started forward as their ship's horn blared. --- Mercury sat in his room in the pokémon center, eyes closed. Anubis sat across from him, helping him to meditate. Their aura mingled as they focused on the source of Mercury's inner turmoil. The silver-haired trainer took a deep breath and then opened his mind for Anubis. Since the night he'd killed his father -- two years ago? three? -- he'd become more vicious, more bitter. His aura abilities had become stronger with every passing day as well, and he worried about where the path would take him. He often found himself unable to recall events, sometimes losing hours at a time. Once, he'd even lost a whole day, waking up in an unfamiliar town with Croaker tending to his wounds. Now, he let Anubis in, so that they could deal with the source of all this. The night Jared Winter had killed his father, the voice had started speaking, calling itself Mercury. That voice was the one who'd led them to the Company, and the one who'd done most of the killing since then. The memory place was just as it should have been. Doors were sealed tight to prevent nosy psychics, but Mercury could still feel the emotions associated with each. He flinched a bit as he passed the door dedicated to Kat. His double was sitting outside, under the barren tree, sharpening his knife. Mercury-- No, here he was Jared to avoid confusion. -- approached him with Anubis close behind. Mercury smirked up at him, flipping the knife into the air and catching it easily. "Jared. It's been a while! And Anubis, how's my favorite vicious beast doing?" Jared winced a bit. Some of the things Anubis had done at Mercury's command . . . "We need to talk," he said lamely. "You know that Anubis and I have talked." Mercury was always watching anything Jared did. "Yep. You want to abandon the Company? Give up on the cash we're getting from protecting people? I'm game, if you have something fun planned!" Mercury tossed the knife again, smirking. "Well . . . I was actually going to go help the rest of the towns on Croaker's list for free. Doesn't seem right to make them pay for our weak defenses." THe double missed his catch, drawing a line of blood along his palm. "Ah!" He winced, squeezing the injured hand with the uninjured one. "I suppose, if that's how you want to do it. You're in charge, here, after all." He bathed his wound in the dark red aura that he wielded, hissing a bit as the skin knit together. Jared frowned. "I'm not so sure about that. If I do this, I have to be sure that we aren't going to have a problem like we did with . . ." "Kat. Jared, I told you! She was using you, there was no reason to keep her around!" "That still doesn't warrant what you did to her! Honestly--" "So, what? You want me to promise that I'll leave you in control while we're doing set up and then take control to handle threats?" "No." Jared grabbed the knife out of the air this time and threw it to stick in the tree. Mercury frowned. "I see. You're making a mistake." "No, I don't think I am." Jared surged forward, silver fire in his hands. --- An hour or so later, Mercury - the physical Mercury - was making his way out of the town. He hadn't told any of his brothers in the Company; they would try to make him stay, and he couldn't do that. He wasn't surprised, however, to see Croaker walking towards him as he reached the edge of town. The annalist and his Xatu were rarely caught unawares. Mercury paused, crossing his arms as the old man approached. "Was wondering when this day would come. Xatu saw it a long while back." Croaker sighed. "I told myself I wouldn't hold you back. You're going to be better, right?" "I'm going to try. I . . . I put away the thing in my head." He sighed. "Sorry for the trouble it'll cause." "Trouble passes. You know where you're going?" "Sootopolis is next, right?" Croaker unfolded a set of papers from his pocket. "Here. I've got every location written down, and the days. You'd best get a move-on. Sootopolis is a ways away." Mercury took the list. "Thanks." "You need help, you'll know who to get ahold of. Try not to need help, though. Old man's gonna be furious." Mercury nodded, unsure what to say. The two stood for a moment in silence. Mercury opened his mouth to say something, but paused as he felt pressure building. "What the--" Croaker turned. "Xatu!" he called out. The psychic type's eyes glowed. Mercury felt hot wind ripping past, and a bright flash nearly blinded him before he found himself being flung by the teleportation. The explosion still slammed him against a cliff, and he felt his head connect before darkness overtook him. His hand gripped tight, but he only managed to hold one of the pages. The rest were scattered to the wind.
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