My Grand Finale
by "I'm incapable of writing anything nice, aren't I?" Otte
Rain pattered down on the ugly scene…
I stared at the ceiling, the cold metallic scent of machinery strong in my nostrils. My talons were tightly bound by shackles and even my beak had a muzzle snapped over it. I did not look up as I heard the familiar sharp clanging as the door was thrown upon and shoot, not did I make any movement as heels clopped along the cold cell floor as the human approached me.
…as I lay among the wreckage…
It was the same human who had visited me over the past few weeks. A tall, blonde-haired young woman who wore the same brown suit everyday. I knew for a fact that her golden hair was hoisted up in a tight, strict bun and her mouth was but a thin line of a frown, her eyes full of scorn to the filthy Pokemon before her. I imagined myself, a wreck of a Blaziken. My glory had faded long ago, leaving only tattered remains, thick with grime and filth.
…and stared up at the clouded sky, gasping for breath…
It was my fault. I know. She walked up to me, free of fear. For the first few weeks, she had been terrified of approaching me. Back then I had looked the part of a Blaziken. Humans could never tell when the fire of a Pokemon had died. I don't mean literal fire – I was still very much capable of my fire attacks – I mean metaphorical fire. Pride, glory, honour, self-respect. Humans had an odd habit of never looking anything in the eye. I was once a great Blaziken, famed and renowned. My battling prowess was admired throughout Hoenn, as me and my partner, a young boy, battled our way through other trainers and eventually climbed the ladder up to the strongest trainer in Hoenn, the champion.
…and calling out helplessly, hoping that somebody, anybody would respond.
She did what she always did. She checked on my vital signs. She readjusted the bed I lay on so that I was comfortable and made sure the feeding tube was still attached. She did this all gingerly, not wanting to place her fingers on the empty Pokemon before her for so much of a second. She looked at the heart monitor by the bed thoughtfully. Long ago had I stopped noticing the annoying bleep of that little bit of machinery. I spent my day either staring at the ceiling, sedated or just asleep. They were debating over what to do with me. They still weren't sure what happened.
But nobody did…not for a few hours, at least…
Hell, not even I was. It was insane. I remember the battle. Another challenge for my trainer's place as champion. He had sent me out at the last moment, against another Blaziken. Blaziken were more and more popular lately. Quite flattering. But after that…I just see some strange blur of fighting and screaming and…and…I don't know.
…and when they came, they were horrified…
I had spent a few weeks here. Wherever here was. There was much debate going on, I knew it. They were arguing over my life. Arguing over whether I should be eradicated or not. I can't prove anything, I don't know what went on and I don't want to. Every now and then a rush of memories will come, too fast to make any sense. I'll feel overwhelmed and I'll scream. Scream like it was the only thing keeping me alive. That was when I had a needle injected into me and I was forced into a violent, artificial sleep.
…by the tangle of bloodied corpses….
I didn't even know if I wanted to live or die. I wasn't even sure what the difference between them was. What was the difference between dead and alive? How did I know that being dead wasn't exactly the same as being alive, only that you existed on a different plane? Was it all just about frames of mind and where your spirit was stuck? Fuck, the drugs must be getting to me. I laugh quietly. It's the first sound I've made in a while and it really makes the woman jump away, looking pale.
…and the past hero lying on top of them, screaming for dear life.
The door opens and closes against. This time I look towards who's entered, surprised. It is three men. A security guard, a man gripping a stack of paper between his long, thin fingers and a familiar face. The pale, sad face of my trainer. I make a choked noise as an attempt to talk to him but he doesn't meet my gaze. His eyes are directed at the floor. I can't get in contact with him…he looks as pale as Death. Then again, he probably had came eye-to-eye with Death recently.
I heard the terrified voices, the hesitant footsteps approaching him…
"Evidence supports that…in accordance with…trainer ID…laws…imminent sentence…" the man read from the stack of papers. I couldn't hear him properly. The blood had begun to pump in my ears and I wanted to scream and shout but my throat seemed to be tied in a tight, choking knot.
..and the whispers of 'It's him', 'I don't believe it', 'I didn't believe it…surely…not him?'…
"Thirty deaths…responsibility...seriously injured…no control…dangerous…" the man continued. I writhed in place, trying to break free. I didn't know what was going on. The entire room seemed to be spinning and I had no idea why. My head ached, my throat was dry and hoarse and all I looked desperately at my trainer, pleading.
…finally somebody decided to do something and he found myself dragged into unconsciousness…
"Witnesses report…other Blaziken…dead…property damage…execution..." he continued. I jumped slightly. Execution? No, no, no, no. I don't even know what happened. Please, god no. What was wrong with me? One minute I don't care if I live or not, next minute the very idea of dying has me in a breakdown. What's the difference between living and dying?
..and waking, restrained.
Maybe…maybe I should just accept it…so many died. But I just want to know what happened. What caused me to kill…or just…lose control? I lie back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. Nobody knows what death is, really. When you stop being alive? Sure…but what really was being dead like? Nobody could imagine it…being alive is all you ever know. You can't know anything else.
I struggled, not to be free of the restraints…
I close my eyes and gather up my energy. I don't know why…I just needed to. I just needed to make it all worthwhile. I didn't want to die at another's hand. Hypocritical of me to say so, after being the cause of death for many others…but who wasn't a hypocrite at least once?
…but rather than the waking nightmare of my memories…
The man is still talking, but I'm not absorbing any of that at all anymore.
…of trying to defend that position, nearly being beaten…
They're approaching, they're ready to have me killed.
…and trying too much to keep that place of glory…
Time seems to slow down as I prepare my attack.
…my trainer pleaded for me to stop, that it's alright if we lose.
My suicide.
But it wasn't, I started to attack everything with my fire…
They were frightened now, I could smell it.
…everything began to become a blur of panic…
I felt my body burn and burn, fire extending far from my core.
…and it was all down to my over-ambition…my pride.
I would soon find out the difference between dead and alive.
People ran away from me, I was out of control…
I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.
…I couldn't even stop myself, I couldn't even see, or hear, or think…
Sort of a testament to the pride that had driven me insane.
…I just needed to fight.
This was it.
No matter what the cost.
This was my grand finale.
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