1.4.3. Dominic, Part III

The news made it official: the world was at an all-time worst.

Dominic tossed the newspaper overboard, rolling onto his stomach to lean on the bow and stare at the sunny sky. He let his claws dip in the water, and a second later he fished out a couple of Magikarp, throwing them onto the boat's wooden floor. He'd gut and eat them later. He lowered his head until he was staring into the crystal blue waters, looking into the eyes of his reflection. Oh, how he wished he looked somewhat like his old man, but alas, he did not—five years of fighting for his life would do that, give him scars over his eye and nose and that little chewed-off bit of his ear and that part of his muzzle that had healed wrong, giving him a weird left-side quirk of his lips. His ponytail was supposed to be long enough to be a tail but something cut it short—might've been another Zangoose, might've been a Scyther, might've been himself but he'd be damned if he remembered.

His parents would really despise what he'd become. He was getting sick of lurking in the darkness, but it was the only thing that could stand him after all.

He felt something move beneath the water but ignored it—well, until the Gyrados was inescapably looking him in the eyes. She even smelled pissed off. "So, I'm guessin' you're not stayin' for dinner, seeing as these're yer sons an' all," Dominic said to her before she struck at him. He leapt from the boat as she swept over it, jaws snapping at air, and he landed on her head. He gripped her whiskers and pulled, bringing her head back as she screeched in pain. "You should know who you're dealing with," he said, releasing his grip to slice away one whisker. Blood shot from the incision and stained his fur and the water. "It's the King."

"The King," the she-Gyrados repeated with fear before she dove into the water, leaving a trail of blood in her wake as she swam to its depths. He landed in his boat, shaking it slightly but thankfully not overturning it. He hadn't used that little trick in a long while because of how much he loved the kill, but lately, getting attacked by weaklings was becoming boring. They were just mutilated so easily…actually, that probably was why saying his name got everybody scared so much.

He noticed he was reaching mainland again and grinned. All that time in Sootopolis was driving him bananas, while its eternal darkness was perfect for him. He started skinning one of the Magikarp, tossing its hide into the water for that she-Gyrados to find, and he sliced its innards up into nice cutlets. They tasted sweet and not at all sour, although it could've used a little tartar sauce. He had to remember to pick some up later…

Dominic curled up in the middle of the hellfire—it wasn't like it was going to hurt him anyway—and he cried without a sound. He felt his tears instantly burn away from the hellfire's heat, but it didn't matter: with each tear that evaporated, thrice took its place until he was finally and completely beaten.

I want…what do I want?

He saw the King sit in front of him, his head facing forward and his mouth as silent as the fire around them. Dominic wanted to speak, but what could he say? "I hate you"? That wouldn't begin to describe his feelings, and besides, he was still indecisive about the whole thing…oddly. "The King wants to know what you're thinking," he finally said, staring into the black flames.

"I mean…don't you already know?" he asked hoarsely. "You're just part of my mind, a figment of my imagination."

"I'm more than a figment, Dominic. I'm here because you want me to be."

"Why the hell would I want you?" he shouted, feeling the knot in his stomach grow even tighter. "You killed…you killed them! I hate you!"

"You 'hate' me…" He chuckled faintly. "You'll laugh when you realize how ironic that is."

"You—you—" But Dominic had no energy to spare, both from the fight and the emotional strength, and his voice broke and he slumped to the ground.

The King rose and turned, looking Dominic in the eyes. His were darker, or maybe that was just the hellfire's reflection. "We are at an impasse."

"That means…?"

"We can't get along, yet we have to be together, because I'm you and you're me."

"Oh… I'm scats-zoe-anemic."

"What? You mean schizophrenic?"

"That's what I said." Dominic dropped his head to the ground, staring at his paws mournfully. "I don't want to be scats-zoe-anemic..."

"You know, schizophrenia has nothing to do with alternate personalities—"

"I don't want to be you—I don't want to be the King! I want to be me!"

"Guess what?" He stepped closer, flashing his sharp white teeth. "The King is now you, too."

"No!" He gasped, kicking the Magikarp away. He grabbed his ears to try to banish the thoughts from his mind. "Nooooo! The King can't take any of Dominic's dumb sentiments!"

He had become the King, he had become the King officially. Rex, he reveled in the limelight, excited at the idea of others prostrating before him, but Dominic… Ah, Dominic was sick and tired of every Pokémon and their Eggs shying away every time he passed by; he was sick of humans looking at him with fear and worry, hiding their children and elderly; he was sick of having to creep through the shadows at night like a Holocaust escapee to avoid persecution; he was sick of—

"…I'm sick of living…"

Pills, the King spit them out; holding his breath, the King punched him in the gut so he had to inhale; a knife, the King tossed it away; drowning, the King forced him to surface; burning, the King put the fire out; electrocution, the King always had rubber on him; battle, the King always eviscerated his opponent…

It was easy to see no matter what he did, the King wouldn't allow Dominic the cowardly (but easy) way out of his control.

He ate the rest of the Magikarp and tossed the bones overboard. They weren't enough, but hell, he wasn't going to catch anything better in those waters unless he wanted to deal with fishface again. He scratched his head, searching for something, but he only managed a chewed-up corn cob, his old toothbrush, and a baby Taillow. He released it into the air with a tired sigh.

He heard Big Momma coming back around before he saw her, her and Uncle Ed and Aunt Betty and a couple more Gyrados backing her up. They swarmed him like underwater locusts for a moment before stilling, and he braced himself as they came up simultaneously to bash his boat to wood shrapnel. Luckily, that seemed to be their only purpose. They soon slithered back to the depths, leaving him flailing in the freezing water until he could a large enough chunk of driftwood. He sighed and began paddling down the current.

"Damn you, Arceus…"

He made it to the shoreline, or rather, he sort of washed up next to it. He was too exhausted to even crawl up the bank. He collapsed onto the mud with a sigh, ignoring the feel of it in his fur and closing his eyes. He only needed to rest a few seconds…yeah, just a few sec…

"Dominic, come eat," Steven called from the kitchen. Dominic stirred and yawned but didn't move, remaining in the wool blanket's cozy hug. It was wintertime, meaning even with all his fur he didn't dare move three inches from the fireplace. "Dominic…"

"Noooo," he complained, burying his face in his neck fur.

"King, come on."

"Huh? I'm not…" Dominic stood, then he noticed a trail of blood slowly making its way from the kitchen onto the living room floor. He panicked and tried to check on Steven, but it felt as if his paws were nailed to the wood. He opened his mouth and instead of words, only a weird cackle came out.

"You heard him," Dominic said, but his voice wasn't coming from his mouth. "Come on, King."

He sunk through the floor as if it was quicksand, feeling it compress his chest and steal his breath away. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he was lying on the beach, the wind whipping salty and fierce with a storm on the horizon. The sky was grey and the ocean was black as lead, furiously slamming against the sand and tossing him backwards like paper in the breeze. He tried to grip something—anything—but he kept getting blown away, and no matter how far back he went he always ended up next to the water only to be blown backwards and repeat the cycle again.

"Dominic!" He recognized the voice as Michaela's. She was on the beach, a baby Zorua in her arms…it was him, it was Rex or Dominic Jr. or whatever he chose to call himself. She was looking out into the water shouting his name. He closed his eyes for a second, distraught, and when he looked again there was his father instead, his knees in the sand and his head in his claws.

He mumbled something with a humorless smile just before several wild Pokémon leapt upon him, teeth gnashing and claws cutting. Dominic got to his feet and ran to his side, but something gripped his hind legs, pulling him to a stop. His eyes widened, then he shut them, turning away.

"Get up," the King jeered, grabbing Dominic's arm and pulling him to his feet. "Get up and see what you've done to everybody who's ever cared about you."

Dominic jerked awake at the feel of razor-sharp claws in his side. He stared down at the wound they created, the blood pouring red and hot down his leg. "Good, you're awake," someone said. He raised his head and stared down a long forest clearing full of Pokémon to the end, where another Zoroark sat on a withering tree stump. He had purple fur instead of Dominic's red and a scar that sealed his left eye shut. "I was afraid you'd died out there."

"Uh-huh… Exactly who are you and who do you think you are to try and kid—nap—me?" He tried to push forward but his arms were outstretched, tied to a tree on either side of him by a cluster of vines.

"I am Lamont," he answered, grey eyes narrowing in warning. "…Do you have a problem with that?"

"Which are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Ya know what I said an' ya know what I mean." He snorted.

"Of course, I'm a revolutionary—the only respectable choice in this whole matter." Dominic rolled his eyes with a moan he didn't bother hiding, shifting a bit to ease the pain in his side.

"'course, 's easy fer me ta respect a bastard that gives me some ulcers as a wake-up call."

"Ah… You have too much of a mouth for your size."

"Yeah? I'd say it's the perfect size." Even though they looked like they didn't want to, the other Pokémon laughed at that. Lamont's eyes narrowed to silver slits.

"I hate funny guys."

"Then youz and mez won'tz be gettin' 'longz." Laont sighed, raising his claws.

"You know what? You're more pain than you're worth. I wanted to offer you a deal, but you're incapable of advanced thought processes, it looks like."

"What deal?" Lamont waved him off.

"Why do you care, lone wolf?"

"I don't, but I don't have nothin' better to do."

"I know you're the King, the brass balls guy of southern Hoenn, the rebel with a thirst for blood and a hunger for carnage—"

"Lemme guess, you get most of your words offa cereal boxes."

"—and with my intelligence that is somewhat within the range of a normal living being's," he continued, exasperated, "I think we can do well together."

"I don't work with 'nybody—not even mahself."

"Come on, don't be shy," Lamont said, beckoning him with a claw as if he was a cub. The action made him growl. "And on a side note, if you refuse, you die."

"That's not really a choice…"

"Who said it was?"

"Well, here's somethin' you should know: I don't like you."

"Not many Pokémon do," he admitted, "but around here, I'm the king."

"Really?" he asked derisively. "You're the king around here?"

"That's right." Dominic twisted his arm around, feeling the vine give a little. "Don't think you can cheat your own kind, your own flesh and blood, King," he added, brandishing his claws.

"I don't care about flesh and blood. My family, my parents and my adopted family, they all died because of me. Obviously, I don't give two shits about those close to me, those far from me, or anything or anybody in-between." He snapped the vine on his right arm, freeing it, and released a wave of dark energy that KO'd most of Lamont's Pokémon. "And especially not a discolored Zoroark who thinks he can stand up to the King and live to tell the tale." A Cascoon was first to rush him and he braced himself, catching it with his freed arm, and lit it aflame with Flamethrower. Its natural heat allowed it to burst into golden flames like a Molotov cocktail and he launched it back at the remainder of Lamont's crew, letting the trees and brush around them burn away.

"Then let me be part of the minority." With a streak of black fire, the forest was quiet once more. A twinge of pain burned in his exposed muscles and nerves as Dominic swung around to completely sever his restraints. Lamont stood, hellfire burning from his claws and elbows. Dominic dragged his claws across a large boulder, sharpening them with a screech and a shower of sparks.

"You're crass, testy, and from what I've heard and seen, clinically insane," Lamont said as they sunk into a crouch. Circling each other, testing for weaknesses…that was how Zoroark fought. Dominic didn't know how he knew that. "And yet you've never taken a plunge."

"A plunge?"

"You know…" He mimed snapping his neck.

"It's not what he wants."

"He who?"

"The King!" he shouted, his voice reverberating from the trees and sending the nearby bird Pokémon flying. The noise snapped them into full battle mode.

Lamont made the first move, striking out with his claws and slicing away a part of Dominic's cheek. Dominic grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, dealing a punch to his midsection. Lamont spit up, paralyzed, and Dominic snapped his arm before pushing him back into a tree, pinning him to the bark by his neck. "You're fast," Lamont praised. "And relentless, even leaking blood all over the grass. But you should know something."

"What's that?"

"I'm a prodigy when it comes to illusions." A terrifying headache surged between Dominic's temples, downing him, and when he opened his eyes he saw Lamont straddling his hips, his claws dripping a lot of blood with something in his palm, something that was…sort of moving…

"M-My…" Dominic grabbed his right arm—or what was left of it anyway—as Lamont tossed his limb deep into the woods.

"Keep on your toes, Your Majesty."

"…You too," Dominic sneered, breaking his own illusion with a sharp tug on Lamont's ears. He blinked wildly as he came to, but Dominic had already broken both of Lamont's legs. "Have you ever heard of Dominick Cobb?"

Lamont growled as another headache started. This time, Lamont had him bound to a tree upside-down with his hands crucified by his own claws. Dominic pulled a similar one, forcing Lamont to swallow his own foot, and Lamont retaliated by making Dominic swallow a handful of nightshade. A dozen illusions later, they finally returned to the real world, tired and sweaty and out of ideas.

"You're not half bad," Dominic admitting, clenching his side when a muscle cramp appeared.

"You as well… As I've said, we'd make a good team."

"As I've said…I don't work with anybody…not even myself."

"You're the only person you can trust," he said.

"Maybe before…but not now. Some Dark-types are only the sum of their parts."

"And you believe that spiel?"

"I have to believe in something…or else I'll go insane." He laughed at the thought of it. "Oh, you really don't want to meet the King, Lamont."

"But isn't that you?"

"…It is." He sliced Lamont's shoulder, creating a thick flow of blood that spilled out onto the grass beneath them. Lamont grabbed the injury, but before he could retaliate Dominic slammed him by the chest, knocking him backwards.

"What?" Lamont said, eyes wide. "I can't…break the illusion…"

"Because it's no illusion," he told him. He lunged at Lamont again, pinning him by his arm to a tree, then he slammed his claws into Lamont's gut, feeling his blood pulse as it poured out of him. Lamont grimaced as his face paled, ears drooping, and gripped Dominic's wrist. Dominic grabbed his snout when his mouth opened.

"I don't want to hear it, not even if you're begging for mercy." Dominic pushed Lamont to the ground and took his place from earlier, sitting on the tree stump. The remainder of his Pokémon looked at Dominic warily before snapping to attention at his growl. He set a foot on Lamont's back, earning a muffled whimper, and pointed at his prone form. "This forest is now mine," he declared. "Should anyone want to challenge that…well, you see the consequences."

"Get up," the King jeered, grabbing Dominic's arm and pulling him to his feet. "Get up and see what you've done to everybody that's ever cared about you."

"The King doesn't care," Dominic retorted, taking the King's wrist in turn and tossing him forward into the water. "They want to hurt us, they'll get what's comin' to 'em."

The King was gone, leaving only Dominic's reflection staring back at him from the suddenly-still water. "You'll only drag others down until the day you die," his reflection said before grabbing his neck, pulling him under. The water held him down like a weight, pulling him further and further away from the moon and stars. That was pretty much what his mind felt like: heavy water holding him down, preventing him from getting to the surface to breathe. He could hear them, too: the voices of Hell.

"Let them scream," he murmured, folding his claws behind his head and moving with the current instead of fighting it. "I'm the only person insane enough to listen."