Imminent Dreams

Tumbling into the mysterious shrubs, it dawned on them that it had not been there but a little while before, when they were getting a feel of the town that night. Too tired to ponder this any further, they waddled into the cascading opening in the bushes middle and fell to sleep on the hidden wooden ground. Of course most people would realize when they were sitting on the secret entrance hidden inside a bush, but not these two Pokémon. Cleverly covered by a patch of dirt and torn up grass, it would never be noticed with the naked eye. And so despite being fully healed by the Pokémon center's tools the previous night, exhaustion had overtaken them and was causing them to drift to sleep right above the next chapter of their destiny.

Waking up at the brink of sunset the same day, the Killer Jell-O woke up frantically from a nightmare that seemed forced upon him. As if his dream wasn't his, and he was experiencing the future of another, as dreams are the key to understanding the unknown. His face hot and his expression frozen into his skull, the Killer Jell-O could do nothing but settle down, and give himself a moment to breathe. And that was when he noticed his knife was missing. In fact, the only thing left was absence and void. The Slendersnivy was gone as well. Assuming the only possible solution, he blew himself up like a balloon as he concluded that his comrade had taken his belongings and made a run for it. Blowing the bush apart with his fury, he lashed his wrath on anything nearby.

Things broken at every corner, there was no mercy as the Killer Jell-O marched through the path with his one man army, blaring song and baring teeth at anyone who dared to come to his presence. Chewing on both the spilled produce and torn flesh, the Killer Jell-O filled his small body with hate and heartbreak. His only acquaintance, no, his only friend, had abandoned him and taken the spoils. But there was nothing he could do, nothing but reason and fight with himself until he had tumbled back to the scene of the crime. There was no trace of anything left. Ol' Slendy had always been cunning and sneaky, but he never thought that it would've been against him. Looking to where his precious belongings had been taken from him, he pounded the ground with jolting ferocity the ground broke from below him. Falling steeply onto a pipe's bottom half that acted as a slide of sorts, the Killer Jell-O faced his next adventure alone.

Upon reaching the bottom of the ex-secret hideaway of the Rockets, banished years ago by heroes and then left to be nothing but a rumor. The only remembrance of them was in the history books, and the occasional attempt to bring back the leader, always in vain and foiled by a champion to be. Looking around him the scenery was gray. No dis-wired traps and faulty paneling could be seen from any direction. Or the one direction, and the Killer Jell-O took his first steps forward. Abandoned Pokémon were found here and there, flourishing after the previous dweller's defeat. The population took a step receding as the Killer Jell-O began to encounter each one. Not every one, but enough for the Killer Jell-O to exhaust himself from his phase of anger. Resting himself against a cobwebbed Persian statue, the Killer Jell-O closed his eyes and breathed heavily. But as he closed his eyes not all was well. He began to have nightmares without falling asleep. He saw his own demise, a forethought impossible task, and found himself unable to open his eyes to free himself from the state of mind. The images running across his eyes were not his, and were composed of all his deepest fears. Letting loose attacks to echo off the walls, he drained his vitality into fainting himself to escape.

The forced imagery drained from his body, the Killer Jell-O knocked himself into a natural sleep, faring only but a little better. Rather than just seeing what was to come, if it was to come, he was able to interact with his surroundings; even if he didn't know they weren't real. Similar to the night before, he woke up feverishly to a nightmare, and woke up suddenly to find his knife gone. And then his memory returned. Sighing the deepest of all sighs ever sighed, the Killer Jell-O looked down to the floor, so far away to experience a ballad of shame and self-criticizing. But the floor was not seemingly, it was so. And looking upwards to his surroundings the Killer Jell-O found that he had been moved while he was asleep, and was restrained by escape ropes to keep him from getting away.

Sweeping behind him, in front of him, and through him were the laughing ghosts of mockery. Or at least most of them were in good cheer. Abandoned pokedolls were present all around, and it seemed as if the stairs to the underworld were the main stage. Banette frolicked with their old bodies, and the Dusclops stomped about beside them. Sinister Gengar were found mostly as shadows, and all around their pre-evolutions were making headway to whichever destination was next. The Misdreavus and Mismagius chuckled to one another, and if they could they surely would've pointed at the Killer Jell-O. All the ghosts acted as one, and in a strange and sick sense were a "big happy family". They got along well in fear that if they didn't they would destroy each other into oblivion.

But to the Killer Jell-O, that was only the beginning. Much more was to be taken in by his wide open eyes, absorbing the dark colors of the residents and the gore of the scenery. The scenery was his everyday life. The room was filled with lifeless bodies, both Pokémon and human. They were plentiful and fresh, as if brought here by the stream of ghost that came in and out of the room, and in fact, that was to be. Some he even recognized, their carved into faces the familiar trademark of his doing. But even so, it explain why he was brought here. There were plenty of other pokemon taking a living in the old hideaway, so why him? That was his only question, for now. He would've expected more Yamask than what there was because of the heaps of bodies, but it was supposed that their spirits had moved on, guided by the Duskull into the afterlife with glee.

The Killer Jell-O took all of this in without thought. This was only normal, and if there were bodies of past victims, then who cares? History always repeats itself anyway. He was only the fool that had fallen asleep to find his friend gone and his belongings gone with him. And in his madness he hadn't stayed true to himself. His job wasn't to kill as most would assume. The Killer Jell-O sought to make right in the world. Right by ridding the world of the weak, so that a new, strong era would commence! And no trainers would exist, they would no longer be able to harm their Pokémon by forcing them to fight. Being able to fight didn't mean they want to. But those accursed poke balls made them, causing them to make fake bondage and unreal trust. Only the strong willed were able to resist, and they would never be hurt by the cursed intentions of the trainers that confined them and contained their true ability within a plastic ball. Refocusing himself to the rope that confined HIM, he struggled to free himself, rocking the board he leaned against. And even with his strength put to the test, it failed. And little did he know Slenderman Snivy was tied silently to the other side.