Rated T-M for violence. Note how I didn't use any bad language. In regards to mood, most readers can't relate to it because the narrator is an insane psychopath. Are you insane? No? I thought so.
It started with that rufflet Brandon and his gang. They made the trouble, and I took the blame.
Always.
They targeted me, a stubby little fledgling with little to no fault in the world. Whose wings weren't strong and broad enough to fly, whose legs couldn't quite hold up and maintain a balance on its body, whose head lacked a neck to support it. They grabbed me, flew me up into the air and dropped me from a height, knowing that I couldn't keep myself aloft. They tripped me and laughed while I squirmed to get back up. They taunted me. They snuck up behind me to push me, understanding fully how I couldn't look behind myself and had to turn my whole body around to see behind me.
Always.
One of their several members was a natu. He sensed when an adult or another creature was coming, and alerted his comrades so they had time to flee before they got noticed in their sinister acts. They would smash and destroy any object within their reach, then trip me and run out of sight. In the minutes that it took to get back up, the teacher would come rushing in, and accuse me of the damage that I had no part of doing.
Always.
To them, bullying me never got old. It never got boring. They taunted me for years, their acts growing more daunting and boisterous by each passing month. My clumsiness was my liability and their greatest asset. Everyone in the village saw me as the infamous troublemaker of Flock's Rest. They warned the other children how I would destroy their belongings or steal them at a moment's notice, when I had never thieved anything in my lifetime. They told them never to go near, let alone play, with the little vullaby named Victoria.
First, early in my chickhood, when the bullying started, I cried it off and forgot about it the following day. The burden wasn't heavy then, and it wasn't deep as it was now either. I would tell everything to my mother, a gentle mandibuzz living at the outskirts of our village, what happened. She would wait until I finished telling my story and pat my head, ruffling the tuft of down on the top. She would then speak to me.
"I'll teach the bird a lesson." she crowed, adjusting the bone at the top of her head that she always wore. "I'll have a word with his father. Hopefully he'll stop next day." She asked me who the kids were.
"His - his name is Brandon." I said, slightly hiccuping through my sobs. "Then there's Kevin the natu, Travis the taillow, Carlos the spearow, and Henry the hoothoot."
My mother's featherless face want pale as I mentioned Brandon. "I'll talk to his dad." she said, her voice not as confident as it was before. She crouched and motioned me to climb onto her back which I obligingly did, albeit clumsily. The skull I always wore clunked against her skirt of ribs with a clang of collision, though it didn't fall off. I always wore the heavy skull wherever I went. It was the rare skull of the elusive infernape that my dad had passed on me when I hatched.
My mom then gave a powerful thrust of her wings and a few seconds later we were airborne, soaring through the night sky with the canopies of numerous trees clustered below us. The village center was only a fifteen minute flight away, and soon we landed on the soil and grass.
My mother came up to the mayor's house and politely pecked it with her curved beak a few times, the bird's way of knocking. Soon a burly braviary came out, opening the door with a steady talon.
"Come in," he had motioned to us with a grand sweep of his wings, his voice deep and somewhat soothing. I tentatively waddled inside the building, the soft carpet padding my feet.
To my surprise and hatred, there was a rufflet sitting on the plush couch, his eyes trained on me from behind a book whose title I have long forgotten. He faked a jump of surprise and called out to his father. "It's her, daddy! It's her! She was the one who..." Brandon had left off at that, leaving me pondering what exactly he had fibbed about me.
My mother interrupted the awkward silence. "We need to talk about my daughter's accounts of what's happening in the village nursery, Mayor Johnson." She stated, turning to the braviary.
"Why yes, we do." The braviary replied. He glanced at Brandon and me. "Brandon, you go show Victoria your room. I'm sure she'd like your company." he told his son, his tone clearly implying that that he had no room for objections. I mentally cringed at the thought of being alone with Brandon.
"But dad-"
"NOW. I have no patience for your antics."
Disinterested in the current conversation, I turned around and waddled off on my own, choosing one of the many rooms to explore. The mayor's house was practically a mansion rather than a tree house. It seemed unfair that some birds get such a grand living place while my mother and I were cramped in a single-room nest on a branch.
I stepped into the room to find it filled with various knickknacks that I'm too lazy to describe, some valuable and others a waste of space. I didn't know what the room was for, it seemed like just a garbage dump.
"Hey."
I whipped around and saw my enemy slipping into the room, his eyes having a sparkle that indicated that something bad was about to happen.
"You." I seethed through narrowed eyes. "Do you depend on the misery of others to survive?"
"Hmm." Brandon said ecstatically as if he was pondering on the subject. "Maybe so." he blinked, and the playful look on his face disappeared, replaced by a more serious expression. "What are you going to do about it? My dad's the mayor of Flock's Rest. That old hag of your mother is useless. She's obviously a witch, you just look at her."
I stupidly fell for the taunt. "What?!" I screeched before trying to tackle him. Maybe I was too obvious, since he stepped aside and dodged my attack with ease. Just when I was steadying myself, I heard an earsplitting crash of shattering glass.
I looked up to see Brandon near the doorway, the remains of a broken vase on the floor from what seemed like the move Aerial Ace. He was covered in cuts and crying, screaming out. "She did it, daddy! I told you she was evil!"
I watched, dumbfounded, as a mandibuzz and a braviary hurried in to see what the commotion was about.
"Why did you do this?" Brandon's father boomed, his eyes glaring at me.
"Wha-" I snapped out of my state of confusion. My eyes widened as I held my hand in front of my face, vigorously shaking my head. "I didn't do that! Brandon did!"
"You witch!" Mayor Johnson's voice was now directed at my mother, who looked even more dumbfounded than me. "I didn't believe my son at first, but your whole family is a curse to Flock's Rest." He grabbed my mother and pressed her against the wall, his claws gripping dangerously at her neck.
Through it all, my mother didn't say a thing. She just stared disbelievingly at me, trying to comprehend who was right, the mayor's son or her daughter.
"No!"
In panic, I launched a small, hastily charged Shadow Ball at Mayor Johnson. It made contact with his head and exploded in a shower of dust. He staggered back, his eyes glaring at me.
"You two are witches that have infiltrated Flock's Rest to bring misery and damage. I hereby announce that Mandibuzz Madeleine Dundress is banished from the village of Flock's Rest. Her daughter, Victoria Dundress, may still attend nursery, but will be kept under constant guard. Now out. Be gone!"
Against my will, I was picked up and thrown out of the building by none other than the "righteous" mayor of Flock's Rest. I heard a squawk of surprise and saw my mother flying down to the ground, landing beside me and enveloping me with her wide wings. I snuggled against the feathers. "You didn't really believe that about me breaking the vase right? I swear on my life that Brandon did it."
My mother just nodded in a silent agreement and patted my near-bald head. "I know you aren't that much of a troublemaker that the other children made you to be, Vicky. But I can do nothing more about it, now that Mayor Johnson has just made me the village witch. Also, please don't swear on your life."
"I hate Brandon. I hate Mayor Johnson. I hate my life. I hate everyone but you."
"Don't hate, Vicky. I promise you that things will get better soon"
I realized something. "Wait!" I showed her my small feet. "I couldn't have broken the vase since my feet weren't even near the vase, hence I have no cuts! If I actually broke the vase, I would've tripped, and fell, and got hurt. Instead, Brandon did! Couldn't we tell Mayor that?"
Mother shook her head, her face highlighted against the moonlight. Th sky was beginning to illuminate in the first rays of dawn. I dreaded the word that she said next.
"He won't ever be in the mood to listen to us anymore. Too late. Too late."
And, for years, it got worse before it got better.
-o-
It was too late to turn back, to late to rewind the events that happened. For days, I carried the burden with a heavy heart, sure that no one would ever listen to me. Birds called me names, taunted my mother, reminded me how it was too late, too late, too late to turn over a new leaf and start again.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years. The anger that started as a mere irritation grew to a full-fledged hatred that flamed wildfires on the inside of my soul. What once started with a sob in the darkness piled up, until I started imagining death scenes for the ones that contributed in the lost of my life. It was satisfying, really, to see the birds that you hate most die under your talons.
They insulted my mother, calling her dirty things, when she did nothing wrong. She was just a victim of the society, just like me. Nevertheless, even with all the jeers I've heard, she was still my mother, the only one I loved. I clung to life only because of her, and I think that she did the same to me. We held together my one desperate bond of righteousness left in the world, a strand of love that separated us from suicide. Delicate, and easily severed, I must say. Most people would leave the last strand of love alone.
But Brandon sought power over me, he fed on the very causes of my misery, and the torture he inflicted upon me was just a silly game to him. I fell to his tricks every time, but when he did the worst thing of all, I had enough.
It all found its ways to my life, you see, and Brandon took advantage of all the commotion. In the midst of chaos and distrust, he killed my mother.
-o-
She died a pointless death when I was ten. Ten years of age on that very day. We had a small party of sorts. With no friends to invite, the amount of food was far from some sort of birthday feast. Due to her not being allowed to markets, Mother cooked up what ever we could find. There was a bread baked from acorns that my mom painfully grinded by hand, and a roast pichu with lum berry syrup not quite so syrup-y. It it didn't taste as good as those store-bought goods that we ate five years ago, but I appreciated her hard work on the dinner.
Five years. For five years, we had been marked the disgrace of the world. And those five years took a toll on my mother, too. She now sat hunched over, with several streaks of white in her once rich brown plumage. The bones that once brilliantly adorned her hair and waist were now brittle and dull, with nicks in the once smooth enamel. Her eyes that once held a piercing gaze were now droopy and sad, reflecting the history ordeals that were laid on her. Though she never admitted it in front of me, I could see that the banishment was effecting on her. I had done this to my mother, the one I loved most, the only creature left in the world that truly understood me.
We sang a small, off-tune happy birthday song, conjuring up all the happiness we had for this occasion. The song rang out in the lonely world that has become our home.
After the feast, I helped my mother on the housework we had to do. Since my mother's status was a witch, there were few jobs that people allowed us to do, and the remaining were dirty and required work that Mother couldn't accomplish alone. I wasn't much of a help, but at least I did something to make her work easier, however small it was.
Nighttime came quicker than I thought. My mother tucked me into the woven sheets of my bed, and planted a kiss on my forehead. I squirmed a bit, complaining how I was ten and she wasn't allowed to kiss me life a little chick anymore. My mother chuckled at my words.
"You'll always be Victoria, my little chick." she said. Then my mom rose and walked toward the other side of our cabin, toward her own tattered bed.
I closed my eyes for, and drifted into a deep doze, blissfully unaware of the commotion outside.
-o-
I woke up in the middle of the nighttime to the smell of smoke burning my nostrils. The heat was agonizingly hot, and there was crackling as our cabin rose up in flames. The cabin was on fire.
I opened my mouth and tried to let out a scream, but it came out as a hacking, wheezing cough, the ones that leave your throat in agony. I flung the flaming blanket off, rolling onto the floor. There was a clang as my infernape skull met the wood. I quickly scrambled onto wobbling legs, hopping a little while running to avoid the burning floor. The entrance was under a cascade of flaming wood, burning. A charred remain of what it used to be.
A charred remain of what I used to be.
I have to say that the skull I wore was the key reason I made it out alive. It shielded pretty much all of the flames and falling debris from my vulnerable underside. I also withstood the flames, to my immense surprise. But that was reasonable, now that I think of it. After all, an infernape was a fire type. It's head had a bonfire on top.
I eventually ducked under the curtain of fire and rolled onto the grass outside, inhaling the sweet, fresh air as if I would never breathe it again. I fell on the damp soil, breathing hard even though my windpipe hurt like it was being stabbed from the inside. The grass was wet with dew drops, amazingly. It seemed like it rained recently.
...Wait.
The realization hit me worst than the fire did. If the grass was still wet from the rain, our cabin would be too. But then it still caught on fire. Only someone could keep the grass wet and the cabin dry. They would have wanted my house to burn, but not the surrounding woods. Which meant...the fire was intentional.
As if to prove my point, a shadow swooped by me, and I looked up to see a whole flock of birds circling the area. Their silhouettes were highlighted against the full moon. Several talonflame and swanna were present, to burn and wet, respectively.
One of the shapes swooped down, getting larger and larger until it was a couple feet in front of me, flapping its wings frantically in the air. I took in the fluffy mane of white, the short beak, and the single prominent feather that protruded from its large head. It was shortly followed by a natu, a tailow, a spearow, and a hoothoot.
"Missing something?" Brandon asked me, and even in the darkness, I could see the look of glee from his eyes. "Does the little vullaby long for her mother?"
Just then, before I could react, the cabin collapsed, sending a burst of smoke streaming up into the night sky. My eyes watered from the smoke, and my lungs screamed in agony. I had to blink frantically to dislodge tears as a braviary alit beside his son.
"I'm sorry, but your mother was a disgrace and curse to our village. We had to get rid of her sooner or later." he told me while keeping a steely face. "Don't think that you're innocent. Guilt by association, birds call it."
"I'm sorry?!" I screeched at him, my throat and voice raspy. "My mother died, and that's all you say?! She did nothing wrong. NOTHING. It's just your wrenched son feeding you lies." I stomped on the ground, my talons tearing up grass and dirt in my anger. "And I can't believe you fell for them!" I waved my wings and threw a tantrum, because to my immense anger, it was the only thing I could do. The feeling of helplessness was eating me alive. "When I die, we'll meet in the skies!"
Mayor Johnson was taken aback, so Brandon replied for him. "You won't." he told me, his back turned toward the mayor so that his dad couldn't see his grin. It was purely sadistic – laughing at someone else's misery, guffawing at another's broken heart. "I'm not sure how much science your mother ever taught you, but when a bird's bones and ashes are scorched quickly and completely, your destroying the soul too. So no, your not meeting your mother in heaven. In fact, I'm afraid that you'll never hear of her again." He imitated an oops face, then shrugged.
It was then when my patience snapped. I had kept up with his antics for five years, and then he killed my mother for the sheer glee of watching me cry. He watched as her life went up in flames, and didn't even fell remorse, feel guilty that he himself caused. As far as I knew, Brandon's heart was as black as the wooden remains of my home, the ones with my mother's ashes buried beneath them.
So I screamed.
I let my shrill voice reach up into the sky as I cursed at them with words I had learned after years of being name-called and mocked at. I spat crude comments into the biting midnight air, telling all the avians within reach how they were responsible for murder, and screamed in their faces the question of why they could burn up a lone Mandibuzz all because the mayor of the town said so. I made sure that I wouldn't be forgotten so easily, though I doubt that much of the night would be remembered in the minds of others.
And then I ran.
I whipped around and sprinted, tearing up the turf in my wake. I sprinted as far and fast as my petty little legs would allow me, the forest trees becoming a whir of constant green and brown. I tripped a bunch, but I always got back up. I had no destination, I only wanted to get away from the lights of the fire, and my past. I ran, and ran, until I couldn't run anymore, and collapsed in a pile of feathers, crying. Sobbing for the lost soul of the only one that cared for me, at the cruel and injustice of the world I live in, and at the remorseful fact that Brandon was still alive, plotting his next move.
My hopeless tears were drunken up by the dirt beneath me, and when I finally couldn't take it anymore, I passed out with tear streaks on my skin.
-o-
A month passed since her life rose up in flames. I kept myself alive by the little rations I had from whatever berry plants I found, and sometimes the dug-up acorns that I come across occasionally.
Of course, I also hunt. It was kind of cruel of me, but I loved to see their fear, watch as their eyes lost the light of life, notice how they fell limp in my talons. I couldn't roast them, as I had a phobia of fire, so I ate them raw. I tore up their meat and cast the rest aside, leaving them for scavengers like poochyena or houndoor. It felt so satisfying to imagine the life of Brandon lay at my very claws, instead of a random prey, as I tore of various parts and watched as the life slowly faded from their eyes. Of course, Brandon was still out there, waiting for another moment to bring misery to my life.
The memory of that night never really left me. Sometimes I would wake up screaming and tossing from the nightmare of being trapped in the fiery cabin, running out and leaving my mother screaming in there. Sometimes I would dream of her face, as disbelieving as the time when Brandon smashed the vase and accused it on me.
And, like the memory, the fire that once blazed out from the cabin never left me either. I felt that there was a small kindle in my heart, dancing to the air currents of my emotions and flaring every once in a while to the oil of my lust for revenge. I wanted to set on fire an see how the others fared.
And I didn't banish the flame, I didn't snuff it out like all the lives of my victimed prey.
I welcomed it.
The fire inside me grew to a blazing inferno that raged in my mind. It was waiting, always waiting. Waiting for a chance to burst and shower its true potential. I held the fact inside myself, waiting patiently for a victim.
And for the first time, Arceus granted my wish.
There was a forest that bordered the village, one that was usually abandoned and devoid of birds more often than not. And now, thanks to my presence in the woods, the number of visiting birds decreased even more drastically. Guess no one wanted to go near a witch's daughter.
I was alone, an outcast from my village, after they burned and charred the soul I held most dear. Even though no flames caught on me, my heart was as charred as the scorched wood planks last night, as they collapsed in a fiery inferno. The flame inside me was a constant reminder of that change too. It begged for food to fuel up its flickering dances, and I fell to its calls and fed it with my desire for revenge. It calmed down when it was satisfied, but after awhile the fire flared up again, stronger and stronger, urging me to pursue bigger game.
It urged me to change who and what I was, just like the tragic day that it threw my life in a blender.
And this time, I refused to play a game of pretend. I refused to capture some random pokemon and release my anger on it.
Kevin...that natu didn't really participate in the actual bullying, but his actions and jeers at me were evidence that he was fully on their side. He always stood in the back, urging the other gang members on, and told everyone to leave when he sensed the presence of another bird. In many ways, he was as guilty as Brandon. But the two had plenty of differences. Some examples were how he was merely a mean bystander, while Brandon engaged in physical bullying. He was first on my list, and Brandon was last.
Kevin seemed like the most reasonable bird to target first. The fact that he was partially physic was a huge liability on his part, due to my dark typing. He didn't seemed like the one to fight either, and didn't have much attack power.
I hid on the canopies of the trees that I had come to know so well during the months of my outcast status. I watched as the the prey that was once a predator to me come strolling, whistling a cheery tune and oblivious of my presence. I was the darkness of the shadows. And the time had come for him repay his debt.
Kevin had changed since I had last seen him. His face was no longer plastered onto his stomach, but now had a separate head of its own. He had lost his tail, but gained a pair of canvas-like wings that shone white as he flapped them. There was a long feather dangling from his head, and fake eyes on his breast (I'm referring to the birds' anatomy, to anyone who doesn't know). It didn't really change his typing, which was helpful.
I swiftly jumped like a ninja out from the branches, landing on the wildflowers perfectly. I placed a wing on the grass-covered ground to steady myself.
Kevin seemed momentarily stunned before regaining his posture. "Hah! The daughter of the infamous witch finally decides to show herself!" He took a threatening, and almost haughty step forward. "Brandon was looking for you, you know. He wanted to apologize for what he did to you. He said that he would be a good friend for now on."
I didn't budge from my location. Oh, now Brandon wants me back. To apologize, he said. "You know, you are a horrible liar." I said, standing up and glaring at him with narrowed eyes. "But let me ask you a question. Why do you follow Brandon? Why do you act like his servant, obeying everything he says?"
"He doesn't give out all the orders. We have our own say in this too." Kevin crossed his wings in front of his chest, covering his eyespots. To me, his words made him seem even more guilty. "And my opinion on exactly why I joined his group? I like torturing you too. Mandibuzz and vullaby are stupid animals. They eat dead things." He blinked, then lunged.
I was caught off guard when he tackled me. The force threw me into a tree, sending numerous leaves showering down. I managed not to cry out in pain and glared daggers at his approaching figure, though my limbs were aching too much to move.
Kevin leisurely walked up to me and rested his wing near on on of my wings. I could see the stiff feathers forming some kind of knife, sharp and deadly. The blade cut through several of my feathers. I saw a bead of blood appear where he split the skin.
I didn't make a sound. If I was going to die, let me die in defiance.
But Kevin didn't cut off my wing just yet. "I know why you attacked me. It's because of my physic typing, isn't it?" He dug the blade deeper, and several more beads of blood oozed out. "But I'm also a flying type, and your not immune to that. So I can attack however I want. Extinguish your little fire and stomp out the last of those embers." He smirked at his own metaphor, then slashed at my wing.
This time I couldn't hold it in, and burst out shrill screeches of agony. I then hated myself when I saw the huge smile stretch over his puny little face. I thought the battle was over before it even began.
Heh, how wrong I was.
As if woken by my pain, the flame inside me was flaring brighter than ever, flickering in its fiery dances and illuminating the dark chamber that I contained it with. This was the flame that killed my mother, but maybe, just maybe, I could use it as a weapon on my side this time.
Are you ready? I asked the fire inside me.
In response, the flame flared until it was the side of a forest fire, urging to get out. It wanted to help me, it wanted to correct the wrongs that they did on me.
And so I let it.
The inferno surged forward as soon as I opened the cage door. I felt the heat of it burning me, and everything felt hot. But I also felt stronger than normal, as if I had become the fire that ravaged my cabin. I felt like I had the power to destroy. My eyes clouded for a few seconds but I wasn't worried much, since there was a new-found confidence coursing throughout me that I had never experienced before.
The first thing I saw when my vision cleared was Kevin backing away slowly, his eyes shadowed in fear. I took the next few seconds to quickly survey what had changed. I felt clearer, sharper, and a lot less bully. The leaves on the trees were magnified tenfold, as if my eyes improved while being scorched by the flames. Raising my fully healed wings to eye level, I found that they were a lot more longer and muscular than the stubby feathers that barely helped in flight.
The change dawned on me. These were the results of the suffering, the deaths, and the poor life I had to endure for five years. This was the final effect from the build-up of hate, remorse, and deprivation that made up my life. I couldn't believe it. I didn't think it was possible.
Through my thirst for revenge, I had evolved.
I snapped back to reality the moment Kevin spun into his back was facing me and took off into the sky. With a mixture of a cry and a squawk, I thrust my giant wings and rocketed toward him. Flying was actually much more complicated than just beating your wings, and I flapped frantically to stay afloat in some raging air currents that seemed as agitated as I was. I saw Kevin riding one of the air currents away from me. Trying to flee, aren't you, Kevin?
"Oh no you don't!" I roared and angled my wings toward his air current, flapping with all my might. I got so fast that I sliced through the air current, banking a few sharp turns before propelling myself on top of the Xatu with deadly talons and a critical-hit Brave Bird.
Kevin screamed and tried to buck and throw me off. I flapped my wings for balance, digging my talons deeper into the flesh of his shoulders. I felt something warm envelope the tips of one of my claws, and realized I had broke through an important artery that led to the wings. As if on cue, Kevin's left wing was drooping, crimson streaming through its once-white feathers. I smiled, enjoying the pain I brought him, and dug my claws deeper into his shoulders, puncturing both arteries on each side completely. Kevin howled in agony, and after all that he did to me, the sound was music to my ears. He released several Physics, knowing fully that I wasn't affected by them. The energy roughed up my down feathers, but otherwise had no harm done.
After watching the blood ooze out from the wounds I inflicted, I released my talons from his back, blood flying out from the wounds and splattering my skirt made of ribs that the infernape skull had somehow miraculously changed into. I watched for a while, aloft in the sky, as the battered Xatu fell to the pull of gravity and crashed into the canopies. I hope a branch didn't skewer him, I had wanted to have some last words with him before he...you know...
As soon as I lost of his body, I angled myself downward with a swoop of my new wings and dove back toward the ground, pressing myself into a ball as I gained speed. When I my beak almost touched the treetops, I flared out my wings, shadowing the grass under me with a expanse of brown-grey plumage as I alit safely amongst the flowers.
Cocking my head toward the right, I found Kevin pressed against one of the many tree trunks, his breath a ragged pant. One of his wings was hanging limply behind him. I grinned as I observed the other, which seemed to take the brunt of the fall as was hanging to the host by only slivers of skin, and soaked in gore.
Kevin met my eyes defiantly, his pupils widening and dilating with each unstable breath he took. He tried to say something - a witty comeback, by the looks of it – but only ended up doubling over in hacking coughs as blood spewed into the dirt beneath him. A lone dandelion was splattered with the red liquid, and looked like it was covered in dew after a morning shower, only the dew was a deep shade of red.
I casually walked over and put my talons on his neck. He stared daggers at me – but if looks could kill, I would've murdered Brandon many one years ago. Alas, they can not.
"Well, I like torturing you too." I spat at him with a cold tone, repeating what he had told me earlier, when the fight began and I was losing. It's funny how fate works, how I had been under his talons minutes before and now he was under mine. How the fading memories of a cabin burning up can change the heart of a bird. "You don't think you can get away with these crimes, do you? Because I should have my own say in this world, too. I should at least find peace in watching everyone that once brought misery to die in my talons, slowly."
A flash of fear swept through his eyes before they faded, along with their glow. The very pupils that once glared with such intensity when I was pushed and shoved glazed over and lost their lustrous color. The eyelid that held those eyeballs that I wanted to gouge out stopped moving, never to move again. His breathing stilled, and Kevin released a shaking sigh before becoming still, never to move again.
I watched as the life ebbed away from the Xatu, enjoying every moment of it as it lasted. It was until he finally slumped against the blood-streaked bark that I withdrew my blood-soaked claws from the corpse's neck with a sign, ruffling my plumage. He died of blood loss, which I could've prevented by not puncturing the main arteries. I wanted to torture him longer, and pound every minute into his cruel mind and let him understand how much hurt and misery he brought to me.
I vigorously kicked the body until it rolled into a ditch, all while wearing a face of disgust. The wing tore off as I rolled, and I picked it up with my mouth and threw it in the hole too. There was still liquid oozing out and coating my beak. I abandoned the remains to rot and took off, heading for the direction of a river near the crime site to wash off the crusting blood that clung to my talons and feathers.
As I dipped my legs in the cool water, I began pondering my next move. My inner flame, the one that flared and triggered my evolution and stayed dormant throughout the rest of the battle, started acting up again. One death was not enough, and I readily agreed.
Just because I killed Kevin didn't mean I was done. Because it wasn't I won't stop until all of them are dead. I washed my red-spattered flight feathers and swished my beak in the clears waters, and when finally clean, I stretched my enormous wings and set out to satisfy my thirst for revenge.
I've killed almost all of them now. I ripped Kevin's shoulders out and watched him bleed to death, I skewered Travis on a jutting stone after sparring in midair. I sliced Carlos open and laughed uncontrollably as he stared at his drooping innards in horror. I ambushed Henry and held him down in the water, until his flapping ceased and he fell limp. I must admit, the last murder had too much mercy on my part. Maybe the fire that supplied me with this hunger had dimmed a bit in the humid airs near the water.
Of course, the kills didn't go unnoticed. I would sometimes pass by near a town on my way through to see a piece of paper nailed to a sign or a tree and my name written in bold across the top, along to a large WANTED word and a description. I always laughed when I saw the description: "A cold serial killer that cruelly murdered four innocent civilians". Who's killing who? I silently told the world. Revenge had to be served one way or another. It should've irked me how no WANTED papers were put out when my mother was murdered, but instead it didn't. I learned that all the legendaries hate me, and are set out of bring me misery. You become used to it in a while.
And about my mother, the loss of her cut a deep wound in my heart. The cut's healing, of course. It's shallower than a couple months ago. But the scar's still there. And it always will be.
Lot's of time has passed, and now Brandon's the mayor of Flock's Rest. He made all the neighboring towns keep an eyes out on me. This makes him hard, near impossible to murder, but I have to patience to wait. I can sit still like a seviper waiting for it's chance. I'm in no hurry.
There was a reason why I left Brandon to be last. First of all, he would definitely be the most difficult to defeat. A mayor's son gets access to all kinds of battle practices, and he was crafty enough to persuade the whole village that I was a witch for five years. No doubt that some of his skills would pass on into his fighting. Though I've never seen him fight, my best guess was that he had some kind of strategy up his sleeve.
But I didn't put him last just because he was strong, and definitely a higher lever than me. I wanted to dispatch all his other team members first as a signal to warn him that he would be next. I wanted to keep him up all night, looking uncertainly out the window despite the bags under his eyes. I wanted to strike fear and suffering to clog up his mind, just like he did for me. Let him get a taste of his own medication, all right.
In the meantime, I trained myself to his level or higher, taking down opponents ten times larger than me and taking some of their bones as a trophy for my achievements. A noivern wing bone was tangled in my hair, and some tyranitar bones decorated my waist. Those I prized the most, since it wasn't easy dodging all those knife-sharp stone edges.
While waiting for a chance to strike, I established myself a hideout. It was in a secluded side of a tall mountain that was bustling with other pokemon, mainly ariados, that obeyed no laws and had no morality in their way of life, but they left me alone after I had by talons on their leader's neck. As part of the promise, I wouldn't harm anyone in their gang and they would leave me alone and fight any intruders, which they did before I came there. I would also come as a strong reinforcement if any intruder were stronger than they are, which so far hasn't happened.
One day, I was roasting a pikachu by the fire (Pikachu have really tender meat) when a gray pig on a spring bounced up to me. It held a rosy orb of some sort between its ears and kept bouncing around despite being short of breath. "Miss Victoria?" He called out with a shaky voice to me from the entrance of my hideout.
I ripped my gutted pikachu away from the fire and bit its head off before turning to the Spoink. He looked completely frightened out of his mind. The bouncing pokemon's eyes were round with fear, and I could understand how he felt about me. I've murdered four birds, haven't I? It should frighten me how I'm now considered a serial killer, but strangely I don't mind. I swallowed the mouthful with out chewing. Pfft, who chews? Teeth are useless.
"What's wrong? Speak, I'm not going to eat you. Have a perfectly good Pikachu right there." I told the flustered creature gruffly. I needed the information now, not after bouts of stammering and silence.
"Umm, th-there seems to be an intruder that the ariados can't defeat." The pokemon managed, "He's a flying type, so he has the upper hand. The army weakened him, they just don't have enough power to dispatch him. Point N16, W48"
"Ah, an intruder." I said with a hint of sarcasm, though I was more than happy to hear the news. A male flying type? With the ability to stop an army of ariados? Sounded like someone I knew. I laughed to myself and took off into the air. If the pokemon isn't Brandon, then I can still sharpen my skills by battling him. I craned my head toward the spoink, who was still bouncing around on the ground. "He's alone, right?"
"Y-y-yes."
"Perfect." I angled my wings toward a friendly air current, leaving the pig far behind. Sketching a layout of the area in my head, I flapped and rode another current to my destination. Flying had been a little hard when I first started testing myself, but now I knew wing strokes and sensed air currents like a professional.
It took me only a couple minutes to arrive at my planned destination. I swooped and landed on the rocky dirt, sending up a dust cloud of grit before ducking my head into the yawning cavern entrance. My nose picked up a subtle tang of blood in the air.
I saw a majestic braviary standing in the middle of the tunnel, his posture hunched due to the low height of the rock tunnel. Scattered around the bird were piles of dead, dying, and injured ariados. Thick strands of cobweb stuck all around him, and his pale face indicated how he was suffering from poison injected by the spider pokemon.
I didn't bother to conceal myself as I strutted toward the ruffled fowl, and made haughty eye contact with him. "How about now? You don't feel so high and mighty any more, do you?" I said with a laugh. By the looks of him, it seemed that my previous murders had taken a toll on him just as I had planned. His feathers were relatively dirty and ungroomed, his eyelids baggy. He looked like he hadn't slept in a while.
"You are forever an outcast, a witch, a disgrace of the worst degree. It is you who should die after murdering my closest associates in cold blood!" He screamed at me.
I stepped over battered insect bodies that took the brunt of his attacks, hearing the crunch of their exoskeletons under my talons. Brandon looked at me with a mixture of bewilderment and disgust. He struggled to free himself from the network of spider thread that clung insistently to his wings and feathers, with no avail. A bead of blood trickled from the corner of his cracked lip.
The army weakened him, they just don't have enough power to dispatch him.
I felt the primary feathers on my wing harden. I sliced then on the cavern rocks to demonstrate, the friction making a teeth-grinding sound as steel met granite. Brandon looked away, his eyes hinting a trace of fear in their pupils. I was showing off, of course. There was no satisfaction in aiming a surprise attack at the enemy. One truly had to alert the enemy of the damage they were about to do, as the fear of pain is usually more agonizing than the pain itself. With sweep of my dark brown wing, I placed the tip on Brandon's leg and slowly sunk the edge into his skin.
He kept it in, but I could tell that it was painful. I vigorously sawed back and forth, until the flesh parted and dropped of and I was left with a slice of skin. I merely punctured the surface. I didn't want him to bleed to death quite yet.
He let out a whimper, and again it was a delightful melody to my ears. I retreated and charged up a shadow ball.
Suddenly a large shape zoomed into me and made me lose my focus, shoving the ghostly blob of a ball into my face. Luckily it wasn't very effective against my dark typing, and merely dissipated against my skin. Rearing up in anger, I found myself facing the remains of a torn web that dangled from the rocks it clung to, its captive gone.
"What?" I gasped, looking around and noticing the silhouette of a wingspan against the blue of the skies. I screeched in fury, and took off after the braviary. I couldn't let the chance slip away from me, just like that.
I stopped midair and mid-flight, then launched myself at a hundred or so mile speed as I engaged in a Brave Bird. It had been one my my best moves, being quick, efficient, and to the point in an I'm-going-to-kill-you manner. The air around me blurred as I sped into the skies. I stayed there for a moment before noticing that I was in plain view, and proceeded in swooping down onto the rocky surface of the mountain terrain, my wing tips only a feet away from the stone.
My Brave Bird had worked – I had caught up to Brandon and was hot on his trail. He didn't notice me presence either, stopping to glance around and then slowing down in a more leisurely flight pattern. My plumage had blended perfectly with the slabs of rock below me. I smirked, silently mocking at his idiocy. Creeping up the vertical rocks while flying was no easy feat, but not an impossible one either.
The freezing altitude air enveloped my body and numbed my wing tips. I stayed within the shadows until we were only a few feet apart. In the utmost silence I could muster, I rode the air currents, then plunged onto Brandon's back, groping for weak areas where I could sink my claws into.
The male braviary shrieked in a mixture of alarm and pain, losing his balance and tipping over. Gravity rushed to take hold of our situation, and down, down, down we spiraled from the altitude of four hundred feet.
Feathers were everywhere as my enemy and I tussled for control. Brandon yelled something, probably something vulgar or mocking, but I couldn't hear due to the wind roaring in my ears. The brat managed to sink his claws into my shoulder, but I had the upper hand, with my hook beak piercing into his neck. I squeezed at the throat, a metallic taste entering my tongue as I cut off his wind pipe.
We were nearing the ground, a rough patch of soil with various withered shrubs and grasses. Realizing that there would be impact soon, I jerked and flung myself on top of the eagle-like pokemon. Before the latter could react, he was met with a bone-crunching collision of soil and stone.
There was dust everywhere.
Panting with a sore throat, I blinked the sand out of my eyes and glared at the slumped figure before me. The shadow rose, and soon Brandon stepped out of the rubbish and approached me, finally laying a razor-sharp feather at my throat. I had underestimate him. He was at a much higher level than I was.
We didn't speak. We didn't move. We just stared at each other with malice in our eyes. Two enemies since chickhood, two birds set out to each other in hate. My wing, the one that Brandon pierced, throbbed painfully, and I felt the blade sink deeper into the tender skin of my mandibuzz neck. I didn't dare gulp.
At these near-death moments does the flame poke its head out of the embers. It flickered silently, watching the scene through my eyes. I sensed the warmth. I knew the flame was there.
You got me into this. I told the fire, who acted like a bystander that watched without doing anything. It was you who led to the burning of the cabin, and you who I fed with all those deaths. It was you who urged me to murder Brandon, and you who made me end up in this mess, in the claws of me mortal enemy.
The flame danced around a bit, spreading its blazing heat as it swelled. If that's the case, then I'll get you out.
A searing heat coursed into my throat as the air around me wavered due to the extreme heat. I saw Brandon remove his wing-blade in confusion, his ruff frilled out as in like what animals do when threatened. The edged of my vision blurred and corrupted as flames flickered near me. These were not normal flames. They had a dark purple hue to them.
A strand of fire caught on Brandon's plumage, and I watched as it quickly spread through out his feathers. I felt flames licking at my skin, but I was immune to the burning effects. They were my fire, after all, and I had the right to char.
The braviary screeched and batted at the growing flames, but the efforts proved futile. He fell down in a writhing mass amongst the fire, struggling to dislodge the heat.
I helped myself onto my feet again and stared into the fiery depths. It was the same fire that scorched my home and my mother to ashes, but this time it was on who I wanted to burn. I coughed out more embers, and what seemed like a Flamethrower.
I scorched his body, I charred his ashes. I burned him until there was nothing left to burn.
And when the last traces of smoke faded into the alpine air, I found myself standing next to a pile of dirt, scorched black from the heat of the fire. Nothing less, and nothing more. The raw power of my inner hate surprised me, how it had burnt through feathers, blood, skin, and bones in a matter of minutes. Reaching out with a shaky claw, I turned the dirt so that the dark black soil was hidden from site – the last traces of my crime against the world.
I turned around, and with nothing to do now that the fight was over, tilted my head toward the sky. It was nighttime already, the black canvas was dotted with glittering stars. We had spent the whole afternoon fighting.
Shaking off the astonishment from the recent events, I stretched out my wings to take flight, but a pang of agony from my wing wound stopped me from taking off. I started to walk, albeit unevenly. Bird's feet weren't suited much for land transportation as flight.
I walked toward the shadowed horizon. And I didn't look back.
I was born a runt. Not just to my family, but also to my whole village. Due to the small, stubby wings that hindered my flight, I was mocked at from above. And shoved. And tripped. And dropped from a height. And bullied some more.
Everybody contributed to a bit of my misery, but there were five birds that brought the worse of suffering: Kevin the natu, Travis the taillow, Carlos the spearow, Henry the hoothoot, and Brandon the rufflet. Brandon most of all – he organized the brunt of all their cruel acts.
It was Brandon who started everything.
He was the one that formed the group and prompted me to tell my pains to my mother, who flew me to the mayor's house. It was he who knocked down the vase and made a whole lie about how it was my fault. It was he who made his father angry and turned on my mother, banishing us both from the society. It was he who actually gave the idea of burning our cabin and wiping out my mom's soul – I'll never get to see her again.
With his father's help, he rallied a flock of talonflame and swanna and ordered them to set my home of fire. While I rolled out, eyes watering and lungs wheezing from the smoke inhalation, he watched in the air. Laughing. Enjoying the pain he caused.
I screamed at him to die painfully, then turned and ran. Ran until I had lost myself deep in the woods. I've pushed the dreadful memory and far from me as I could, but there was still a wisp of flame that had caught itself on to me. It lodged itself at the bottom of my broken heart, and demanded that I kept going, I never give up until I taught the bullies a lesson. I listened to what it taught me. It became the core, the fuel to all my intentions and emotions.
For the next few months, I was honing my skills and feeding the constant and eager fire. I used my prey as practice, mauling them before eating and practicing how to make their pain even more painful.
Forest pikachu are actually pretty tasty if you know just how to roast the meat.
When I deemed myself ready for combat, I scoured the forest and found myself face-to-face with the natu, Kevin. He had evolved into a Xatu. At first it seemed like I had underestimated him, and he pinned me to a tree trunk. But then I let out the flames that were boiling inside me, and initiated my evolution too.
In conclusion, I didn't underestimate Kevin. He underestimated me.
We staged a heated battle above the treetops, where I performed a critical-hit Brave Bird that ultimately ended his life. He bled to death with his eyes glaring at me in the utmost hatred. Yay.
With my newfound body and a nagging hunger from my soul flame, I set out for other victims. And I found them. And I killed every one of them.
Brandon was the last one. He had evolved into a formidable braviary, making us equally matched in strength. The battle started with a game of tag around the mountaintops, before I finally pinned in down and burned him until there was nothing left behind. Not even ashes.
I had repaid him with what he did to my mother.
…
…
…
I feel simple. I feel calm. There's no overbearing guilt racked inside me, eating me inside out. Not even the tiniest regret.
For the first time since they burned my mom to nothing, the flame is satisfied. It's not flaring. It's not flickering. There are no eternal embers. As if...as if the flames got expelled out of my mouth, and left permanently.
They're gone.
And I'm done with my killing spree too. Now I'm put in charge of my future, and what I want to be. Maybe make my reputation better for the pubic? It's wouldn't be easy, not with all the murder's I've commited, but I could travel to some far city and introduce myself there. I don't know...get a job? A mate? A happy life?
I'm walking on the rough surface of the mountain lands thinking these things, and I laugh cheerily for the first time in a long while. The ideas I'm having sound ridiculous – in fact, they are ridiculous.
I looked towards my injured wing and gently brush the gash against the bone. Ahead was the cave I always camped out, with the remains of a half-eaten pikachu. Picking up the food and eating it with gusto, I then headed into the part of my cave where I stashed all my trinkets, searching through the jumbled piles for some oran and sitrus berries.
They sound ridiculous. They are ridiculous. It was already too late to turn back, to late to rewind the events that happened.
But who am I kidding? I'll try them.
And maybe, just maybe, they'll actually come true.
Aaaand here's your super large, semi-rambling end note. Didn't think I would leave it out, didn't you?
This was a story that just spontaneously popped into my mind while I was doing stuff. It seemed like a good idea, so I sort of jotted the first few paragraphs down. That's why the beginning is so fast-paced. I wanted a worthy story, but not one that would consume my time. At first, I just thought it would be a simple, 1K to 2K one-shot, but somehow it grew to a 10K thing and took a month for me to complete. I took my time on the ending. It wasn't written in the best of moods either. I just can't get out a not-depressing story yet ;D Yeaaaaaahhh
And speaking of depressing, I can't believe that NO ONE reviewed the second chapter of Song of Seasons. *rant rant* Sigh, I really worked hard on that one, rewriting the whole thing after my computer erased it two times. Oh well, I'd better trudge on.
The next update won't be up in a while.