A/N Just so everyone knows, this is a lot darker than my other fics (apart from Appreciation). So if you're here for fluff and derpiness, turn back now.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, in any way, shape, or form. It belongs to the respectful owners.
There is no hope left for me. I accepted that long ago. It's easy not to have hope in life when all that's left for you to do is survive.
And yet, it's still exceedingly difficult for menot to run screaming out of the room when looking into the soulless eyes of my soon-to-be murderer. It is hard not to get on my knees, to beg and plead for another chance, to break down in tears. It is hard, but I manage to keep my dignity.
The one I can see steps forward, but I know he isn't the one to be concerned about. It is the two behind me that are also creeping nearer, that I know will cause my death. They always attack from behind. I don't know which of them would actually be the one to do it, but that hardly matters. These three beings of the shadows are as indistinguishable from each other as they are inhuman.
They keep advancing on me, and I hold my ground. The shaking is something I can't control, and I know my voice would betray meby cracking and trembling, so I keep quiet. Not that I will be given a chance to talk- these three won't be asking if I have any last words.
Even if I was given that chance though, I would not have said anything. What is there to say? That Team Plasma will perish? That would just be embarrassing, and most likely lead to a 'questioning' about the information that makes me so sure. That I look forward to seeing my other fallen colleagues? But I have long since lost hope that I will be reunited with loved ones in death. To declare my love to Shauntal? Never. I would not damn her like that. I may have screwed up, but she's smart enough to keep living. Maybe long enough to outlive this hell.
So I remain silent, while the one I can see signals to the one I can't to finish this. But I at least have one trick up my sleeve before I am killed. Before my head is twisted at an impossible angle, my neck giving off a sickening snap as its most vital bone is severed. I let hate for Team Plasma, for Ghetsis, for that delusional brat of a child to flow through my body- a last act of rebellion.
It feels good. I had done so well hiding that hatred; from the inspectors and the spies, from Ghetsis and his son. All of it, hidden behind a guise of loyalty.
Right up until that moment. The moment when I was discovered. That moment…which led meto this moment.
Yet, as good as the hatred feels, I cannot bear to have my last moments endin misery, and I find the last thing to occupy my mind is a vision of my darling Shauntal's face.
This all happens over the course of a split second, which is good, because in the next second, I am gone.