#3:venusaur
He has walked with the human since he was young, a newborn bulb, as he walks with him now. The human has taken him and two others, the mountain beast and hard sea-creature, to these caves. The three of them shelter the boy from harm, and the boy leads. The old venusaur feels a surge of pride as the boy takes them forth, deep into the blue gemstone caves; they have always walked with him, and he has always led them to greatness.
650, 651, 652.
Once, he was a bulb. Now, the flowers on his back are thick and his muscles are strong. He feels no fear.
758, 759, 760.
The boy counts. Bats, perched on the tips of stalactites and conversing amongst themselves, direct their penumbral eyes to the passage of their party of four. Some stragglers, cocky lean ones with a thirst for blood, swoop down occasionally. The sea-creature weathers their blows with fortitude, while the fat mountain beast snatches the slow ones and eats them whole, chewing noisily on the wing membranes. He allows the boy to duck under his shade, batting away the nuisances with his vines. They burst in foul sprays of ichor, which roll down the broad leaves of his flora and drop hissing to the cavern floor. His human sprays a cooling liquid on his skin and urges him on.
888, 889, 890.
Gradually, the terrain becomes rougher. Denser clusters of the blue stones spring up, choking the pathway. There is a nuance to the air in the caves, a thickness that makes his flowers curl and shrink. The beast is restless; twice he must reprimand it with hard lashes to the chest, doggedly forcing it to move.
903, 904, 905.
His breath begins to labor as the path inclines steeply. The boy pats his flank and when he takes a step, it is with a stitch in his side. Still, they make progress. And it is when he feels his age pressing down on him all at once, when the toxicity from the combined bites of over a hundred barbed teeth registers and climaxes with frightful agony, they enter an atrium filled with pools of clear water and lit by fabulous crystal growths, their facets reflecting light from an unknown source. On the remains of a long-dead animal, there sits a tall being, long and beautiful. Around it are corpses smoldering with purple fire. His human leaves his shade and the tall thing stands. Its eyes prophesy doom.
The venusaur trembles and feels, acutely, the stirrings of a profound truth: he is going to be killed here.
910.
.
Why did you come here? it asks. Its voice is storm-like, rumbling; when it speaks, the cavern flinches.
"I am going to destroy you," says his human, and he startles at the sound out of surprise. His human is speaking and he understands what the sounds mean, clearer than ever before. Unexpected. He snorts and makes to charge at the pale thing, but his human stops him. "Hold still," says the boy, and he is still.
This is not a place for your kind, says the creature. If you do not leave, you will die. I have killed men before, and I will do it again.
"I'm not going to leave."
Do you doubt me, child? A ripple of amusement dances through his mind, then scatters. Look around you. They were strong animals, hardy beasts that braved through more obstacles than you did to reach me, seeking a boon. I slaughtered them with a thought.
"I didn't come here for a favor. I came because this is something I need to do. Don't overestimate your importance, clone." He spits. "You're a mistake. A cheap copy of the original god. The last mess I have to clean up."
Yes. And now there is a hint of laughter from the god – because he is sure that it must be divine, to be able to command such power as to reshape language and voice – as it rises slowly from its terrible throne. Dust and ash peel away from it, and beads of springwater crystallize into hard gems of ice.
I knew of you, child, long before you stepped foot in my domain. I have known you since you were lost in the forest and cried for help and none answered you but the baying of hounds and the screams of the wild. I have known you since you defeated my creator. You have weathered much to arrive at this point in time. And you think that I will lie here and bow my head, and you will kill me, and that will bring you peace.
"Yes."
Boy.
Cutting disdain. A lance of sound in that dim chamber. So sharp it ruptures something inside of him, and a flower abruptly curls inward – pained, screeching.
Flawed I may be, I still exercise control over numerous things in this flimsy world, and the wills of lesser beings are mine to bend and shape as I please. Here, I have grown strong. In my veins, I hold the blood of Mew the Great Mother, Shaper of Creation. I tear down cities and kingdoms and palaces and kings. I am devourer of life, bringer of death, ruination and damnation. Lightning crackles, and muted thunderclaps echo in the tunnels. I do not yield to humans. I do not submit to anyone.
A long and hideous wail wrenches through the space between the god and his master, who falls to the ground and quivers, inconsolable. The very foundations of the room quake as the god turns to him and asks, Why do you travel with this human?
In the blink of an eye, the stone cliffs and jutting formations fade into pure nothing, black and cold like no place that could ever be real in the universe, save for the churning matter from which nightmares are born.
Look at you, it says. He watches as his companions, the mountain-beast and the sea-creature, lunge forward, baring claws and teeth. The two pause in mid-stride, faces frozen as veins of craggy rock climb up their bodies, devouring them in an instant. Where they once stood, a pair of rough forms now tremble before splitting apart and dissolving into so many granules of sand.
Weak, it says. He howls and forms forests from the void, trees and vines and poisonous blooms spewing their toxins into the air sweetly, binding it to the nothing-place. He feels anger, and grief, and so much pain. Whips of violet energy crackle, slicing through the foliage with ease, and tossing the darkness into a frenzy. Chilling waters lap at him, casting him into a deeper of ocean. And there are all manner of wicked things lurking in these deeps. Desperately, he tries to draw the liquid into his back, but the first sip is bitter. Evil. He flounders while it floats towards him, hovers above his head like an executioner.
You will not stop me, he gasps. I will live. I will awaken from this dream. You will pay dearly, young god.
Foolish, it snarls. You came from pathetic stock. You ally yourself with this boy, who is now caught in his own madness. Madness that I awaken, with but a tiny sampling of my will. Shall I break you as I broke him? Or shall I leave you here to drown, all alone, your comrades dead and rotting?
Through his dying throes, he chokes out, You asked me why I followed my human. Well, I will tell you. I followed him because he was powerful. He is greater than you are. He has rebuilt nations, dethroned vile gods of hatred and fear like yourself. To him, you are no more than a piece of dirt. To me, you are even less. I shall follow him until my bones give way and my heart ceases, and I shall follow him out of this world you have made.
We shall see, it replies. A gesture, a careless wish. He is no more.
.
High above a sky the color of pitch, two points of light emerge. Time in the abyss passes strangely, and he feels as though he has been here for millennia, at least. So when the twin stars grow brighter and brighter yet, his eyes flutter and he turns away from the glow, which is so blinding and sharp and radiant that he, who has bathed in this dark sea for aeons (or the space of a heartbeat, he doesn't know) feels compelled to gaze elsewhere. Away from the lights, scorching in their brilliance.
His master kneels, a purple cat with star-eyes and a lean yellow rodent pacing around him, hissing. Another light. A dragon-roar. Sounds he cannot quite interpret.
Release you? The god laughs. Never.
The sounds come again, but then they stabilize, take on meaning. "If you won't let us go, you will pay. I will unmake you, just like I did your creator."
Try.
.
Glittering capsules form and re-form. Shadows fracture. It has been a day.
.
There is fire, red and purple, clashing. Lightning humming as it strikes a dome and fizzles into cascading sparks. Ten months.
.
Power fails him. He is beyond age. An eternity of night.
.
His master and the god, locked in arms, both rolling across the cave. Blood on the grounds, his own and those of the rest. They slump, wheeze, all so wretched and hurt. Here, a piece of shell, warped by intense heat. There, a piece of dangling skin with matted white fur, greasy. Below, a thread of intestine wetly curled around his leg.
The human picks up a jagged piece of stone. No pleas from the creature, who has gone silent, perhaps whispering to the boy in their own private conversation. He never hears what it has to say. As the arm falls, bringing the stone down hard, the last of his senses grow still. Nothing else is seen, or heard, or tasted. Only sleep, and a thin promise of power he had heard once so long ago, and now remembers.
Blue's barely dozed off when his phone rings.
"Fuck," he mutters, and reaches for it. The girl sleeping next to him doesn't seem to mind as his arm jostles her. No one calls this late, except maybe Daisy acting as his grandpa's proxy to 'check up on him' or some shit, but Daisy hasn't called in two weeks. Grumbling, he checks the caller ID and sees that it's not one of his contacts. Weird.
"Hello?"
Either they've got a bad connection, or this is a prank call. The only thing he hears on the other end is silence.
"The fuck is this? This is Blue. Whaddya want?"
Still nothing. He's feeling kind of pissed at whatever dumbass has decided to ring him up at fucking 2 AM in the morning, so he shouts a string of colorful expletives and is about to hang up when the caller finally decides to speak up.
"Blue." Really static-y.
"Yeah? Who's calling?"
"It's me. Red."
Oh fuck. "Red? God, where in the hell are you right now and how did you get this number?"
"I did it."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Killed him. You know the one."
"Giovanni?" He's going from furious to incredulous. This call is most definitely not what he was expecting. "He's been AWOL for over a year. You saying you tracked him down and got him good? You serious right now?"
"Not Giovanni."
"Oh." The realization's staring to come. "Oh. Shit."
"Goodbye, Blue."
The line goes dead. Blue curses, holding the phone with clammy fingers, and gets out of bed. He won't be sleeping tonight.