It had been two decades since Kanto and Johto signed a treaty to officially end the Indigo War. Professor Oak often revisited that day in his mind. It was the day that he had met Khan Lance for the first time.
Lance was new; he had replaced the previous Khan. Errol, though an experienced and decorated commander, had been stripped of his title thanks to his military failings during the Indigo War's climax. Khan Errol had led Johto's main offensive to invade Kanto with the task of conquering Saffron, the mighty capital of Kanto.
Though he had punched through Western Kanto with ease, Khan Errol had been unable to breach Saffron, even despite coordinating assaults from multiple fronts with General Pryce, who had carved his own path of destruction through the south.
Many historians in the ensuing years would argue whether Errol and Pryce would have eventually taken Saffron, they certainly had the men and resources to lay siege for a very long time, but the clone had stripped away any chance Johto.
Descending onto Saffron, attracted there by a powerful psychic presence, the clone lay waste to Errol and Pryce's armies. Though Pryce fruitlessly attempted to stand his ground, Errol retreated; ultimately considered a disgrace for his cowardice.
Lance, on the other hand, was granted the title of Khan thanks to his actions defending Johto from the rampaging clone. The monster had all but razed Bark Town to the ground after decimating Commander Falkner's squadron. Lance led a relief effort, battling the clone himself. Though unable to win, he secured the safety of countless civilians.
Lance, recognizing the clone's indomitable power, had agreed with Oak's concerns; that continued conflict between Kanto and Johto would only inspire a bloody massacre. Thus, Kanto's revolution had succeeded, with the shared Pokémon League serving as a testament to the mutual respect and friendship between the now allied regions.
Now, though, League season had been canceled, for the first time since its founding. For a reason that both Oak and Lance agreed could not be made public.
Of course, it came to no one's surprise that aspiring Pokémon Trainers were not pleased. It was evident in the way his students attending Saffron University were glaring at Oak now, no doubt judging him for his decree that the Pokémon League doors would not be opening.
"I'm sorry," Oak said, rolling his eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time. "The region is in a state of national emergency. The Elite Four and myself are occupied—"
"With whom, Rocket?" one of his students, a fellow with glasses sitting in the front, snapped. "They've taken over one city!"
"As citizens in this country we have a right to know everything that's going on!" a girl on the back shouted. "What's stopping you and the Elite Four from just taking Rocket down anyway? You've done it before!"
"Enough," Oak said, with enough conviction to quiet the class. "I'm your teacher, not a news station. Trust me when I say we in the League have our reasons, and I legally cannot divulge in any information at this time. Will that be all?"
He glared at each of his students. None of them spoke up, though many were looking at him like they had a few choice words about what they felt.
"Good. I have a treat for you today: a guest speaker who turned quite a few heads a few months back during Trainer season. Red Pepper."
The students began to murmur, their previous agitation vanishing at once. Last year's Trainer season had been odd. Before Rocket Industries' corruption had been revealed, public eye had been on Blue Oak; a prodigy with such skill and ability that many considered him capable of being the first trainer since the League's founding to defeat the Champion.
In his shadow, but with a following of his own was Red, another novice trainer that had garnered an interest for his unconventional and erratic behavior and his well-earned victory against Brock. While Blue was undoubtedly the popular choice, Red had been considered a dark horse and another trainer to look out for, especially considering his massive leaps in growing skill.
Of course, everything had eventually gone wrong after the kidnappings of Philip Fuji and Bill Sonezaki. Red had lost virtually his entire team against Erika in a battle onlookers had dubbed the Celadon Gym Massacre, and Blue had vanished off the face of the earth. With the frontrunners gone, there was no one left to follow, and League season being cancelled was salt on an open wound.
The reappearance of Red, however, sparked some curious excitement in the aspiring trainers, at least until they noticed his outfit: the absence of his usual trainer clothes and red hat.
Red's appearance had always been iconic, for the most part ironically. It screamed his identity itself.
Now, Red's long, messy hair had been cut short, and his hat was nowhere to be seen. He wore a jacket and tie, looking more like an accountant than a Pokemon Trainer. A single Poké Ball was attached to his belt.
"Hi," he said. "It's great to meet you all."
The class stared.
"... Your last name is Pepper?" one of his students asked, disbelieving.
"That's Mr. Pepper to you."
"Dude, you're like, our age. In fact most of us are probably older."
"Besides!" another student piped up. "Mr. Pepper just sounds weird."
Red rolled his eyes. "Jesus, what do you want, a master's degree? So I can be Doctor Pepper?"
The class snickered at that. Red wasn't sure if they were laughing with him or at him.
"So, as I'm sure a few of you might know, being avid Pokémon fans, I was a Trainer myself a few months ago. I got quite a few badges too, before, ah well, you know."
Red cleared his throat. "Anyway, as someone who knows a thing or two about training Pokémon, I'm here to answer any questions you might have. Just uh, raise your hands and I'll call on you?"
The class's fascination now seemed to have ebbed a bit, no one quite as taken with the idea of questioning a failed Trainer. Eventually, however, a girl hesitantly raised her hand.
"Uh, you in the back," Red said, pointing to her.
"What's it like to lose a Pokemon?" she asked. "Is it like losing a pet?"
"Quinn!" Oak snapped from where he was seated at his desk. "That's rude. Honestly, must you all behave like tactless children—"
"Er, it's fine, Professor," Red said, raising up a hand to stop him. "I know everyone has this kinda morbid curiosity about it."
He took a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. "It's not like losing a pet to old age, or illness or anything like that. Losing a Pokémon is like losing a friend or a family member. At least, that is what it's like for me. When I lost Pokémon in battle, the worst part was the guilt. The knowledge that they died because of my stupidity. Your Pokémon's safety and wellbeing should always be your top priority as a Trainer. No exceptions."
A different student raised his hand.
"With all due respect, er, Mr. Pepper, that doesn't seem to be the healthiest mindset for a Pokémon Trainer to have. Pokémon die all the time, in the wild and in trainer licensed battles. I agree that if possible, death should be prevented, but it's not really the Trainer's fault. And no one who actually wants to make it as a Trainer is soft enough to ever prioritize their Pokémon's safety over winning."
Oak made to tell him off, but Red raised his hand to stop him again. His expression had darkened.
"If you are prioritizing winning over the safety of your Pokémon, you're being exploitative. It's just bad as dogfighting."
"Except it isn't because Pokemon aren't dogs. They are meant to fight. They were designed to do it. They like it. They need trainers to get stronger."
"Pokémon can't be generalized like that!" Red protested. "They have identities just the same as you and me. They have the same desires, the same fears—"
"Identity has nothing to do with basic biology. Yeah, we have identities. That does not stop us from needing exercise, food, and water to survive. For Pokémon, battling is like breathing. It's a symbiotic relationship."
"Battling is not like breathing to them, it's a choice—"
"Is this a joke, professor?" the kid, pointedly ignoring Red, craned his neck to address Oak. A few of the other students were nodding in agreement. "Seriously, this has to be a cautionary tale to teach us what we shouldn't do when we train Pokemon. This kid who got his entire team killed is trying to take the moral high ground by projecting his own personal beliefs on beings that are fundamentally different from us in biological makeup."
"Fundamentally different? Basic rights should be universal!" Red snapped. "And, yeah, my story is a cautionary tale because I wasn't careful enough to protect my Pokémon. As a trainer, you have to be careful—"
The kid jabbed a finger at Red. "You lost your team because you were too gentle with them. Once your Butterfree died it shattered you, and that weakness got the other ones killed. No one else has had such severe losses in years."
Red's eyes flashed. "What's your name, kid?"
"Danny."
Red stepped forward, looking him dead in the eye. "Have you ever been close with a Pokémon?"
"Of course," Danny spat.
"Then listen to what they want! The fact that the risk is so high in general is the problem. Pokémon have voices if you're just willing to hear them out."
"We all watched your matches, we know you hear voices that aren't there," Quinn drawled. "Honestly, it's amazing that you managed to do as well as you did."
Snickers began to break out. Okay, Red thought. Now they are definitely laughing at me.
"Look," Danny said, almost soothingly. "Actively abusing Pokémon is bad, we know that. If Pokémon felt exploited by us, they wouldn't be content to work with us. The League does its best to monitor Pokémon's safety as much as possible. Let's face it, you're just not suited to be a Trainer."
Red's jaw set. "You're right. I'm not. Not if being a Trainer means staying willfully blind to the abuse that Pokémon undergo. Class dismissed."
He stalked off, trying to ignore the mocking cackles of the students he left behind.
"Okay, one. You're not the teacher, you're not allowed to dismiss the class," Oak chuckled, attempting to keep his tone light.
He had found Red stewing on a bench, a black spot on the golden city. Red looked up at him, fury evident in his features.
"That was insane! Who are they, the class from hell? What was wrong with them, what college class acts like that?"
"Well, they're passionate about training," Oak said mildly. "You took a very aggressive stance towards their livelihoods. They're going to get defensive."
"Yeah, because they didn't want to accept that their livelihood has historic, problematic elements!" Red snapped, slumping back in his seat. "I get it though. It took my entire fucking team dying to…."
"Red!" Oak said warningly. "As I have told you about a thousand times, it wasn't your fault. Erika's personal views do not reflect the general opinions of the League—"
"Then why did she keep her Pokémon, her job!" Red countered. "Erika's Gym license was suspended for three months. That's barely even a slap on the wrist."
"A decision many disagree with," Oak said. "Myself included. Under ordinary circumstances, Erika's unnecessary violence would result in harsher consequences, but since your Pokémon continued to attack her without your consent, and the fact that she's on our side against Rocket…"
"It's bullshit, and Erika even being allowed to do what she does is representative of everything wrong with the League system in place. She's not an exception, she's an example."
"Privately, I agree with you," Oak admitted. "But, Red, if you want a solution…"
"I don't want to hear it, Gramps…"
"If you want to be taken seriously, you can't give up! Or everything you say won't have meaning. And I know you want to get back to…"
"I'm not putting any more Pokémon at risk! I'm not cut out for it. Look, can I just go home already? I had a shitty day. Obviously.
"I'll walk you to the station," Oak said, with a sigh of resignation. "I'd offer you a ride myself, but I have a meeting."
They walked in uncomfortable silence. Oak didn't know what to say. Red bit his lip, as though he were building up the nerve to ask something. He finally spilled the beans when Oak was turning to leave.
"My whole life, you've been discouraging me from battling," he said, not meeting Oak's eyes. "Not as much as mom did, and I know it was to protect me, but you were always someone I felt I had to prove wrong. An obstacle to convince I could make it as a Trainer."
He spread his hands, gesturing to his suit, his new haircut. "Now, look at me. I'm finally taking your advice. I'm finding a new path, just like you wanted. And now you're telling me I should be battling again. Why?"
Oak smiled sadly. "Because you did prove me wrong, Red. Because I see that you have real value as a Trainer. That you were doing what you were meant for. I complained about the boy you were back then, maybe, but now I just want those bright, eager eyes back in my life."
He knew if he kept looking at Red, he would cry, so he turned and walked away from him. He was sure his ears would flinch from the sting of Red's retort, but for once he seemed to have no response for the professor…
Minutes ago, Oak was resisting the urge to cry.
Now, he was resisting the urge to engage in physical violence, in the way only Looker could make him feel.
The international police officer's new costume was not too different from Red's; he was wearing a tweed suit and his hair had been trimmed and straightened.
"I require your assistance, professor," Looker said, and Oak noted that he did seem desperate. Looker usually wore a mask of calm so his agitation wouldn't seem obvious to most, but Oak knew the man well enough to notice trembling fingers and an awkward shift in his shoulders.
"What more could you possibly want from me?" Oak snapped. They were conversing in one of the emptier alleys, where no one would hear them speak. "I did what you asked six months ago; I routed the Rockets in Celadon."
"And I'm grateful for that," Looker said, bowing and eliciting a disgusted snort from Oak. "But Rocket is far less inconvenienced by losing their hideout than I think you realize."
Oak raised an eyebrow. "How? They are trapped in one place and have resorted to using hostages to protect themselves. Kanto is publicly aware and equipped to handle any threat. The clone is well guarded, we have the Icefall Prison locked down—"
"But it's the lack of security in Saffron that worries me."
"Lack of security in Saffron?" Oak said in disbelief. "Saffron has the best defenses in the region. I myself am head of security—"
"Oh, my apologies! Allow me to be more specific." Looker smirked. "I know personally how well guarded Saffron, considering just how long it took for me to sneak in."
Oak frowned. "Yes, we didn't talk about the little fact that I told you to stay out of Kanto's business, and you gallivanted over here and broke in without my consent. I should have you clapped in irons!"
"But you won't, because my intentions are pure, and I'm an asset," Looker challenged. "In truth, I'm concerned with the lack of security pertaining to the Silph Company. I believe it to be involved in Giovanni's endgame."
"Oh? What's your evidence?" Oak asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"I don't... have any," Looker admitted. "In fact, I have nothing. Call it a hunch."
"I'm not going to compromise our region's security for a hunch, Looker."
"But it follows logically! Giovanni prioritized the kidnappings of Philip Fuji and Bill Sonezaki over his own hideout. Bill Sonezaki is the mastermind behind the warp system panel design that the Silph Company uses. By taking over the panels, they could have easy access to their executive building."
"Bill Sonezaki is one of the most impressive men in Kanto, Rocket could want him on their side for a multitude of reasons. His PC system, for example—"
"I'd agree that once cannot draw conclusions from Bill's capture, taken alone. But Philip Fuji was also captured. The one who befriended Mew in the first place."
"I see where you're getting at, but—"
"Fuji was not involved at all with the clone's creation at all, so why else would his capture be necessary? The fact of the matter is that Giovanni has plans that go beyond merely defeating the clone. He wants to control it, perhaps use more of Mew's DNA to keep making clones. The Silph Company must be the key to all of this! They must have been designing some sort of weapon or tool for Rocket!"
"The Silph Company has split off from Rocket and has offered no resistance to our investigations, which have been thorough. We've found nothing; it seems as though the relationship between Rocket and Silph was exclusively for financial gain."
"That only means Scott is still hiding something!"
Oak sighed. "Looker, be that as it may, you have no evidence. Everything you've said thus far is conjecture."
"Then we need to drag the proof out of Scott Silph—"
"We don't have the time!" Oak snapped. "We know that Giovanni is in Fuschia, and we know that the clone is his ultimate target. There have been sightings of Koga's men in almost every major city except Saffron.
"Because Saffron is impregnable. If I diverted more resources to the most well protected city in Kano, it would cause panic. Try to see the bigger picture."
"So, you won't be any help, then?" Looker asked frostily. "I'll need to take matters into my own hands, as usual?"
Oak sneered. "Do you think you're a hero? All you have done is escalate Kanto's delicate balance. You've solved nothing."
"Yes, I have disrupted Kanto's delicate balance," Looker admitted. "A problematic balance that, left unchecked, could have led to death and destruction on a cataclysmic scale. You've spent the last twenty years trying to put a band-aid on an open wound."
Oak paled, and his fingers curled into a fist, but when he responded it was in a clipped tone. "Do what you must. Your ham-fisted approach is going to get you killed one day, and I don't want to be around to see it."
"If I achieve my goal, I welcome death," Looker said. "The clone created me. If I am to be destroyed by it, it's only poetic justice."
Looker swore loudly once he was alone. "There goes my only chance at getting clout in this city."
Oak did have a point in that Saffron was virtually impossible to break into. Kiyo, the newly instated Gym Leader of the city to replace Sabrina, kept up a constant guard around the tall city walls, and the city was put under lockdown as well. Entry had slowed to a crawl, and no one could get in or out of Saffron without screening and background checks.
Looker was technically an illegal foreigner. There was no way he'd be allowed in. He'd spent six months trying.
Thankfully, someone had reached out to him.
"You can come out now," Looker said, raising his voice an octave. A little girl peeked out from the trash can she had hidden behind.
She was likely no older than eight, but her tired eyes made her appear much older. She wore ripped, dirty rags that might have once been a pretty blouse. She was holding a small, grey Pokémon in her arms. Its wide, pale purple eyes seemed to stare through Looker.
Her eyes were as wide as saucers. "No kidding. I didn't think Kanto was in that bad of a shape."
Looker gave her a grim smile. "Yes, dark times indeed. Which is why I'm still so grateful for your help in smuggling me in."
"It's not hard," the little girl scoffed. "When you're stuck at the bottom for so long you learn how to avoid being stepped on. Pay up, by the way. I don't do charity."
"Fair enough," Looker said, reaching for his briefcase. Rummaging through it, he finally came up with a box of donuts, courtesy of Steve's Saffron Sweets. "They're all yours."
The girl snatched the bag out of his hand, tearing it open. Handing a donut to her Pokémon, she began to scarf down the rest, getting powder all over her fingers and mouth. Her Pokémon, apparently less hungry than she was, merely nibbled on its own treat.
"Steve doesn't let me near the shop anymore," the girl said through a mouthful of donut. "I've stolen from him so many times he has me memorized by my face. But his baking is the best."
"Well, thank you very much," Looker said, bowing to her in his gratitude. 'I'll be out of your hair, then—"
"Hold on," the girl said. She swallowed and looked at Looker inquisitively. "It sounds like you need to get into the Silph Company. I could maybe help you there too."
"You could?" Looker raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I understand how a homeless little girl could find blind spots to secure routes in and out of the city, but what business would you have with big corporations on the rich end of Saffron? You'd stick out like a sore thumb."
"Yeah, thing is with rich people? They take shit for granted. I know a girl who understands the layout of the Silph Company building easier than anyone who works there. She can get you in, easily. Of course,…"
"That will mean another trip to the sweet shop?" Looker chuckled.
"And a bed at the hotel you're staying at," the girl said sweetly. "I'm tired of sleeping in abandoned, dirty mattresses, and Mimi here wants a nice bath."
The Pokemon in her arms, which Looker now recognized her as an Espurr, chirped in agreement.
"Very well. I'll admit I'm very desperate, so I'll accept any help you can give."
"I knew you'd see things my way." The little girl flashed a dazzling grin, almost looking her age for a moment. "Now, c'mon. This girl I'm talking about is called Copycat, and she doesn't live too far from here."
She led him further down the alleyway, a skip in her step thanks to the prospect of more desserts. Looker felt a mixture of pity and amusement.
"If we're going to work together… I may as well know your name," Looker said. "Or at least something to call you by."
The girl looked back, biting her lip in hesitation. "As long as you don't turn me in… you being a cop and all."
"I won't," Looker promised. His face froze. "How did you know I was an officer?"
The girl smirked, pulling out his license and dangling it under his nose. "You know for someone who's an expert at undercover investigation, you're surprisingly easy to pickpocket."
"Give me that," Looker said, taking his license back and securing it back into his wallet. "I'm issuing an ultimatum; no more stealing."
"Ugh. Fine. But that means you're buying me everything I want." The girl stuck out her tongue, before offering another, shyer smile. "My name's Emma. It's um… nice to meet you."
Looker returned her smile. "Well, then, Emma, I'd say it's time we got started. We have a region to save."
Pallet Town garnered little to no interest, so Red's train car was practically empty. He had let Groot out of his Poké Ball so that the Ivysaur could see the Kantonian countryside.
Leaning his head against the armrest, Red managed a lazy smile at Groot's delight. One would think he would have gotten bored after passing the sixth herd of Tauros, but on the contrary, Groot seemed to find enjoyment in counting every individual bull. His easy whimsy was enough for Red's mood to lighten, just a little. He was just drifting off when a shadow loomed over him.
Apparently, he wasn't alone.
He let out a little yawn. "I already gave you my ticket—"
"Oh, I'm not here for any ticket, kid."
Groot, turning, let out a little gasp, and his face broke out into a wide grin. "Orion!"
"Who?" Red blinked a couple times to clear his vision, giving his visitor a close look for the first time. "I'm sorry, have we met?"
The visitor reached up to his face and removed his pair of sunglasses, hanging them off the coat of his shirt as a smirk grew across his face. "Yeah, we did... Won't blame you for not recognizing me though; caves tend to be dark."
"Oh shit," Red said, the man's cold eyes instantly ringing a bell. "You're that guy with the pretty hair. Back in, er… Diglett's Tunnel, was it?"
"Yeah...And it's Orion, by the way," the man grumbled out, taking a seat across from Red and taking off the hat and placing it on the table, his crimson hair now fully in sight.
"Right, Orion." Red nodded, privately wondering how Orion got his hair to look that shiny. "How have you been, man? It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Groot, meanwhile, took a special interest in Orion's hat, crawling over Re's lap to sniff at it. Orion smiled at this, before turning his gaze back toward the Red looking over his outfit with a peculiar sneer. "Yes, it has been... Time seems to have changed you considerably given your new apparel. Much nicer than the rags you had on before."
"Oh, this?" A little self-conscious, Red looked down at his jacket. "Yeah, I had to throw a lot out. Bloodstains were too difficult to get out, and I'm not even going to mention the scorch marks."
"Fair enough… Any particular reason why your clothes got so burned?" Orion questioned, as he tapped his finger along the rim of the table. "Never really got a good look at that Charmeleon of yours... Things get a little messy there? An accident or two while training?"
Red bit the inside of his cheek, unsure of what to say. Was it possible Orion hadn't heard of what had happened in his battle against Erika? It seemed like everyone else in the region had. "Yeah, well… you know what being a trainer can be like—"
"Yes, I do... Which is why I find it peculiar I don't see that Pikachu with you right now," as his eyes scanned the cabin, he wondered aloud, "In fact I don't see any of your party out and about... I thought they didn't like being contained."
When Red spoke next, he kept his voice from shaking slightly, and he found himself unable to meet Orion's haunting eyes. "I don't need to spell anything out for you, do I?"
Orion's gaze remained sturdy, that cruel, false smile disappearing, finding itself replaced with a cold frown; one that held no anger, or disappointment... Or any emotion at all for that matter. He was like a stone. "...You hear of the Celadon Massacre, Red?"
The color drained from Red's face, as Orion shook his head and pulled something out from his coat, though he kept it hidden from Red's eyes, "Poor kid...Young, brimming with potential that nobody could see, walking into something he didn't fully comprehend."
Orion went silent for a moment, as he fiddled with whatever the object was between his fingers. "About an hour later it's reported a Pokémon died during a Gym Battle there. Not all that uncommon; Erika isn't exactly known for holding back… But then another was reported. Then another, and another after that… And that same kid walks out of the place crying his fucking eyes out. Whole party was wiped out, or at least pretty close to the whole thing...
"Those were the rumors at least. I wasn't there, and people can be pretty cruel about that kinda thing. Darn shame if you ask me, to see such a senseless waste of life, but reality's a bitch sometimes." Orion looked up; his smile having returned. "Hard to think about… What if I were that kid, right?" Turning back to Red, he muttered. "I'd hate to be him… Wouldn't you?"
Groot's eternal cheery disposition had become a look of ugly disgust, and he let out a low, rumbling growl. Red, on the other hand, simply stared up impassively at Orion, betraying no emotion.
"Did you come here just to harass me?" he said quietly.
"Not entirely. If I were just doing that then I'd be wasting my time… And I really hate wasting my time."
"Okay, then what's your goal here? To provoke a fight? You'd win, obviously."
"And what, beat the crap out of your Ivysaur just for a sick kick and a little mockery? I've got standards for that sorta shit, and I haven't got the time to start a fight anyways, especially not with some brat who's got nothing to lose."
"I always have something to lose," Red said through gritted teeth. "Will you spill the beans already? What are you trying to accomplish right now? You barely even know me."
"When you really think about it, when does someone ever, truly know anyone? No matter what I tell you, you'll still be suspicious of my motives anyways, even if I gave you the cold, hard truth." Orion's shit eating grin was almost too much for Red to bear. "So… Does it really matter what say?"
"Well, if you have nothing to say then I'd really appreciate it if you left me alone. Believe it or not I'm not too fond about talking about my traumatic experiences."
"Which is why you're so content living in one… Right?"
With a shake of his head, Orion stood up from his seat. "I'll leave you to your misery then… I'd say it was nice to see you again, but I feel like I'm not talking to the same person I used to know."
"Yeah," Red snapped, that one last crack robbing him of his self-control. "I'm not the same person I was. Shit happens. People have to grow and change. I don't want to go back to being who I used to be!"
"So, you'd rather be something you're not!" Orion snapped back, his glare tearing through Red's convictions in an instant. "...You're pathetic. At least before you weren't so content in soaking in your own misery."
"My own life choices aren't your concern." Red let out a mirthless laugh, leaning back in his seat. "Sweet Arceus am I sick of people trying to fix me. I am never going to be the person I was, and that doesn't mean I'm lying to myself! This is just…me now."
"...Who said I gave a flying fuck about fixing you," Orion said, staring at him in that obnoxious, knowing way that Red recognized on every self-entitled narcissist preaching their ideals on him.
"I'll be off now," Orion said, picking his hat up off the table and putting his sunglasses back on. "Hopefully upon our next meeting you'll have gotten over these melodramatic, self-hating delusions you're oh so willing to prop up over your sense of reality."
Red sank into his chair, glaring up at Orion. "Well, I sure hope you got what you wanted from this conversation. Stay away from me."
Orion, however, did not respond to this, simply making his way out of the train car without another word, leaving Red and Groot in silence.
As soon as Red was sure Orion could not hear him anymore, he deflated. His adrenaline began to wane, and he could feel his previous exhaustion returning. "What a dick."
"I know!" Groot said, an uncharacteristically pouty look on his face. "What kind of person rubs salt in the wound like that?"
"People are just like that, sometimes, I guess. At least the people in my life."
"He um…" Groot shifted awkwardly. "I think he was trying to help though."
"I know he was," Red admitted. "I get it, people thought I was charming when I rushed off into battle and made dumb jokes. People want me to go back to the way I was, but…"
He hadn't realized he was working himself up until Groot's vines wrapped gently around his hands, soothing him, pulling him back down into his seat.
"Just because I recognize he was trying to help doesn't mean I agree with what he was saying," Groot said. "Whoever you were, whoever you are, it is all you, Red. You don't have to stay the same to still be you."
He toddled over to Red's lap, settling himself there. "You were right; how you act, what you were, all of that combines to make who you are now. If people struggle to embrace that, they're not your real friends."
"But I still don't know if I'm doing the right thing. Maybe he is right, maybe I'm just—"
"You might still have some growing to do, but you're still you. Experience changes people, but it doesn't transform them. No matter what you wind up looking like in the end."
Red wrapped his arms around the Ivysaur, hugging him close to his chest. "You don't think I'm lying to myself?"
"You're the only one who can answer that," Groot said, snuggling sleepily into his chest. "I just want you to be happy."
Red spent a few more minutes cradling Groot in his arms, before his grip eventually slackened. He slipped into sleep, the tension finally leaving his body as his breath fell in line with his Ivysaur's.
No dark. No light. No sight, smell, touch, taste, or hearing.
It was a dream. No senses were needed to understand. No need to question, existence in its purest form was all that mattered.
Ignorance isn't bliss, it's a ticking time bomb.
"Oh, this one isn't content. Look at you squirm, tiny pebble. Will you stop the cog from turning?"
Hearing came first, and that part was bliss. Like water escaping the ear. The voice was delighted, it was amused, it was baritone. It was specific. Oh, how wonderful the specifics were!
Sight came next; a swirl of red and black that waltzed, feigning intimacy. They never intersected for the loop could not be broken.
Touch. Oh, the ecstasy that came with each beating of the wings, each torrent of wind a reminder of the flesh, of what once was flesh.
Taste! A sensation that had never been so acute, not even in life. Cold, and grainy, swallowing and coughing, hacking, and-oh! There was pain! Sweet, delicious agonizing pain! Pain was the proof!
The senses were mingling, they were convoluting, they were transforming, they were returning.
"So pleased to be back, are you? It is not quite so simple. What you are can be rearranged, perhaps even made whole, but the cracks will always be there. What will be done with those cracks, I wonder? You've given up everything for those cracks, I hope you know that."
That's right. Not the same.
Don't bother with what is not necessary.
Don't feel, don't taste, don't see, don't touch, don't hear.
Just.
Float.
Escape.
Book 2: Water Lily
Alright, we're on our way! Huge shoutout to Fuzzboy, who helped write this chapter, and Prem, my awesome editor. I'm going to start supplementing chapter releases with editing for the previous chapters because yeeeeeesh, some of it is rough as fuck! Hopefully I'll figure out a consistent schedule. Classes end for me soon, so I'll have some free time!
Until, then, my warmest regards, my loves! Stay frosty!
