Part 1: https://rentry.co/PolicemanPokemonStory
Part 2: (You) are here.
Side stories: https://rentry.co/PolicemanPokemonSideStories
Copanon Story Part 2
You were sitting at the bar drinking whiskey after a hard day of work at the station.
The black and white TV was showing the news of Explorer 1's takeoff.
"It's about damn time that the good old US of A showed those damned commies who's boss," said the barkeep while polishing a whiskey glass.
"Do you recognize the song?" you asked the barkeep.
"I don't have the faintest idea, to be honest. Probably some new one," he shrugged before returning to his duties.
"You did a great job taking down that Swine, officer," said a woman while taking a seat next to you.
"Just doing my job, Ma'am," you replied.
She had a long, flowing dress with the color purple befitting a Roman empress sparkling in the golden lights of the bar.
Yet there was something familiar about that woman.
"Do we know eachother?" you asked calmly before taking a swig of your whiskey.
"Not directly, but we share a few acquaintances," she replied while supporting her head with her arm.
"Well with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" you asked while turning in her direction.
"You can call me Mag," she replied.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Mag. How may I help you?" you replied.
"Oh. I just want to give you a warning," she replied.
"A warning? A warning of what?" you asked, surprised yet at the same time cold.
"Is there anyone after me?" you asked sternly.
"Not necessarily. More like a premonition of the future," she replied calmly while stirring her drink with her finger.
"Are you some sort of Gypsy fortune teller?" you asked, confused.
"Please I'm better than those scammers," she replied, chuckling.
"So what does my future hold?" you asked, laughing.
"Death. A quite painful one," she said.
"And you are telling me about this because?" you inquired.
"It can be avoided," she said.
"Avoided? How?" you asked.
"By not fighting it," she replied while drinking her whiskey.
Your phone ringing woke youup in the middle of the night.
"Who phones people at this hour," you said and rolled over to check the hour and who called.
Fedoark was calling you at two in the morning.
"This better be urgent," you said while you picked up the phone.
"It is, trust me. Can I come over to you?" she asked.
"If it is urgent enough for you not to wait till morning, I guess... Do you know where I..." you were cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing.
"Are you ALREADY at my door?" you asked, 101% tired.
"Yes..." she replied.
"Eugh... Fine. I'm going to open the door for you; just wait a moment," you said while attempting to crawl out of bed.
"No need..." she replied.
"What?!" you asked, dumbfounded.
"I'm already inside; I just walked through the door," she replied before hanging up.
You heard the sounds of claws tapping on your floorboards.
And they were getting closer.
After a while you saw the sickly yellow eyes on the other side of the doorway.
"Hello," you heard her say.
You were paralyzed at that moment.
She took her true form in front of you.
In your house.
"I wanted to have a talk with you after work, right?" she asked in a strange tone you haven't heard from her before.
"I expected you to call me earlier and not just show up at my house in the middle of the night," you replied with a bit of anger in your voice.
"Yes I know. But I was sidetracked, and I really need to talk with you," she said.
"Fine what do you want to talk about?" you asked.
She jumped and sat sideways on your bed, and you felt like you were in some fucked-up German fairy tale.
"I wanted to speak with you about what happened during my fight with the Emboar," she said while starting to shake.
"I didn't want to kill it. I wanted it to suffer. But when I met that Trevenant, I felt nothing. And I don't know what to do about it," she said while the shaking got worse.
"What do you mean you felt nothing?" you asked concerned.
"I-I felt relief. From this hell," she said while stuttering while turning her eyes towards you.
"All I can now feel is hate, HATE, HATE!" she said this while starting to shake and hyperventilate.
All of a sudden she jumped at you, digging her claws into your shoulders.
They were cold as ice.
At this point you were paralyzed by fear.
Your fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.
You were about to grab for your gun on the nightstand, but something dissuaded you from that idea.
"Avoiding death by not fighting it," popped up into your mind.
"I HATE YOU!!!" She screamed at you.
Her breath was an ice-cold wind of putrescence and malice that stung like hornets.
"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you," she kept on repeating it while digging her claws deeper into your shoulders.
"And do you know what is the worst thing about this?" she said, shaking.
"That I HATE myself because of it," she continued.
Her grip became weaker, yet not any less painful.
"You are my friend. How can I hate a friend?" she said, trying to break down crying but unable to.
"You helped me. You hid me. You kept your honor towards me," she said.
"I just want to cry, but I can't. It is just all anger and hatred," she continued.
"I can't even look at my past before I turned without feeling hatred towards my friends and family and myself," she continued.
Her grip on your shoulders became stronger, as if she was preparing to end it.
"WHY AREN'T YOU SAYING SOMETHING!?" she shouted in rage and confusion.
"WHY WON'T YOU PUT ME DOWN LIKE THE RABID ANIMAL I AM?YOUR GUN IS RIGHT THERE!" she continued raging while her grip on you became weaker again.
You had to make the best of the situation at hand.
You moved your arms behind her and dragged her in closer for a hug, putting her head on your chest.
The unexpected move made her go silent and her body go limp.
"I hate you..." she muttered as you felt something ice-cold dripping down onto your chest.
Her long fur was cool to the touch.
Flowing between your fingers, or more accurately flowing through them, as the hairs never tangled around your digits.
You'd describe this as a pleasant experience compared to how the rest of her body felt to the touch.
It was an uncanny sort of cold that you couldn't exactly describe other than you didn't like the feeling of it.
Her body was still shaking but refusing to do anything.
You used your left hand to keep her close to your chest while removing your right hand to turn on the night lamp.
Just now you realized how much it hurt to move your arms after what she did to them.
She noticed it but didn't protest.
In fact, her body stopped shaking.
Did she think you were about to grab the pistol?
You turned on the night lamp, and she instinctively recoiled in response to the light.
With the light you could finally see.
There was no blood on you, which was a relief.
You grabbed her gently by the head to look at her.
She didn't protest, like she had given up.
Tearstreaks of ice ran down her face while her left eye was closed to protect itself from the light.
Singular teardrops kept falling down her face just to instantly freeze once they touched anything.
In fact, there was a layer of black ice on your chest from where you were holding her a moment ago.
Some of her tears flowed down onto your hands, instantly freezing and biting into them with their unnatural coldness.
It was a sad sight to see her usually sharp, predatory features being reduced to... this.
"But I hate you... Why are you doing this?" she continued muttering under her breath.
"Because this doesn't look like a sign of anger," you said to her while carefully breaking off one of the icicles that had formed out of her tears.
"See? You can cry after all," you said while holding out the tear icicle.
It was too cold to melt, so instead it just stuck to the palm of your hand.
"Wha?" she said, completely disoriented.
"These are your tears," you repeated to her while holding out some of her frozen tears.
"My... tears?" she said, trying to get a hold of herself.
You let go of her head and put those icy tears in her hands.
With one of her eyes still closed to protect it from the bright light of your lamp, shekept looking at them for a solid minute in silence.
Tears started flowing from her eyes once more.
Turning into small balls of ice the moment they touched her hands.
In a moment you noticed her distorted features starting to return, but not completely.
The expression of despair and rage fainted.
Being replaced by one of calmness yet still with a veil of sadness behind it.
She dropped her frozen tears on the ground.
You heard them cracking apart on your floor.
She turned her eyes towards you.
Her eyes, once full of rage, were now less aggressive, even if some aggression was still visible behind the curtain of icy tear trails.
In a moment she rushed to embrace you in a hug.
"T-Thank Y-You!" she said while crying.
You were trying to keep yourself from screaming as she touched the areas where her claws previously were lodged into your flesh.
Her cold tears started dropping onto your shoulder and your back.
They kept dropping and freezing faster than your body could unfreeze them.
It didn't take long for your back to be covered in a thin layer of ice.
But that was a concern for later, for as of now she seemed strangely... Happy?
Her body, still shaking and sobbing, became limp once more after a while.
The rain of tears stopped.
She seemed asleep.
You considered leaving her in the bed and going to sleep on the couch instead.
But then you became really sleepy all of a sudden.
Not being able to control your eyelids or body anymore, your head dropped onto your pillow.
The last thing you noticed before drifting off to sleep was a click and everything going dark.
You woke up.
And you were shivering and in pain.
The pain of what happened at night was slowly returning while you felt a distinct difficulty breathing.
Your friend from the FBI was still sleeping with her head on your chest.
Maybe you could slide her off and get your freedom.
So you gently slid yourself under the blanket in one direction and her in the opposite.
Your master plan was seemingly working as you managed to free your leg.
Just one more and you could walk to the bathroom.
And you obviously got too greedy.
Getting your foot caught on hers and falling onto the floor with a thud.
The impact felt like you'd shattered every bone in your body, and you barely managed to contain the scream of pain.
Hopefully she didn't notice.
"What was that?! A-Are you okay down there?" she said with shock in her voice.
"No. I'm cold and in pain," you groaned while trying to stand back up.
"Oh my God, you are as pale as a corpse!" she said.
"One mistake and I would probably have been one, to be honest," you said.
"Let me help you up," she jumped off the bed and attempted to help you with standing up.
The night's wounds were still fresh, so you had to clench your teeth whenever she accidentally touched them and release a hiss of pain.
But somehow you managed to sit back on the bed with her help.
She took a look at you in silence, looking at how you looked after the night.
You had the feeling that she would have another mental breakdown because of it.
But instead you heard a timid "I'm sorry," from her.
"Don't beat yourself up over this. I should have gone and slept on the couch instead," you replied while clenching your teeth.
She gently moved your shirt to take a look at where her claws had previously been.
"Looks like frostbite and hypothermia. You need medical attention stat," she stated.
"I'm fine. Just a bit cold," you replied.
"I'm fine," she repeated in a mocking tone.
"But I am. Just a warm bath and I will be as good as new," you replied.
"I'm not taking chances with you potentially getting gangrene. I'm calling some paramedics. Maybe you won't need to go to the hospital," she replied.
She grabbed your phone and went into a different room.
You'd follow her, but you weren't even able to get out of bed.
After a while she returned.
"Ok so instead of calling the paramedics, I called the CDC through your boss using your voice," she returned.
"You did WHAT with the WHAT?" you raised your voice.
"Oh relax, you are getting a day off work, and the paramedics would have called the CDC anyway," she said in the most nonchalant way possible.
"What did you say to him?" you asked in a peeve in your voice.
"That your refrigerator got possessed," she replied.
"And the captain just bought it?" you inquired further.
"For him, whatever you say is basically gospel on the subject. Just stick to the story and you should be fine, " she said.
"You gave no additional details of how I supposedly got rid of it?" you asked.
"No. I just told him what I told you. You have complete creative liberty on the rest of the story," she said.
"Ehh... Fine. Let it be your way," you said with resignation.
She jumped back on the bed next to you.
"It will be some time before someone arrives..." she said timidly looking at the floor.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?" you asked her.
"Yes..." she replied timidly.
"Good God, where to even start with all of this?" you said before gathering your thoughts.
"When you said that you felt nothing when you met the Trevenant, what did you mean by that?" you asked her after a while.
"You know that thing about the Pokemon I turned into hating all living beings?" she said.
"Yes, what about that?" you asked.
"Meeting that thing was like a cold shower. Seeing it made me realize how much I just hated everything for the sin of just being alive. And why? Because it was dead, just like me. No anger and no hatred, just indifference. Feeling nothing for a moment felt like a massive weight I didn't even know I was bearing was simply... gone," she said while her eyes started to become teary again.
"There there everything will be fine," you said while pulling her closer to yourself, trying to ignore the pain.
"When the Trevenant did something to that pig and it started squealing in agony when it was burning alive, I felt no joy but a dark sense of vindication. I wouldn't be satisfied until that thing was turned to ash!" she raised her voice with something resembling anger.
"Shhh... everything is ok," you said while pulling her even closer.
She was silent for a moment, but her breathing slowed down again.
"Then... I took a look at the Trevenant again, and I was able to think without anger. The rational part of my mind started screaming, "This isn't you; don't do this. You aren't a murderer," over and over again," she said, sobbing.
Her tears this time didn't turn to ice yet still felt as cold as ice to your skin.
"In that moment of clarity, I decided to run home. No second thoughts, no room for doubt. I ran and I ran, fighting the urge to disembowel whatever creature I encountered the entire way. When I finally reached it, I started going through photos and memories in the hope of finding something that didn't bring me anger, but I found nothing. Family, friends, enemies, coworkers, random people on the street? The same effect of an indistinguishable anger towards them," she continued sobbing.
"I slowly started to hate myself. I became a monster that felt nothing but a desire to see my own loved ones dead," she said with her voice shaking like she was trying to keep herself from breaking down.
"I started thinking that maybe if I just killed them, they would become like me, and I wouldn't feel hatred towards them anymore. I still cared for them and wanted to see them alive, but something was twisting my mind into hating them. Whatever was left of my mind tried to keep me sane, reminding me of my humanity," she said while grabbing tighter of your arm.
"By the time it was time to go to work, my mind had won a Pyrrhic victory against those instincts, and I went to the only person I could trust with it. You. The moment you left the station, I ran back home, afraid the instincts might take hold once more. I sat there numb from anger for hours before finally regaining enough of my mind to rush to your house for help... And you know the rest of the story,"
"Do you still feel hatred towards me?" you asked calmly.
"Not as intense as before, but yes. I still hate you. But I also don't, however strange it might seem to you," she replied while pressing her face into your arm.
"Progress. However small or insignificant it might seem, it is still progress at the end of the day," you replied.
"I also want to thank you for making me feel something other than hate, anger, or numbness," she said.
"And what did I make you feel?" you asked.
"Sadness... and hope. Hope that I'm not as hopeless of a case as I thought to myself," she said, shaking.
She was silent for a while.
Allowing herself to calm down.
"Could you do me a favor?" she asked.
"If you need help, I'll try to help you," you offered her.
"Could I live with you for some time? I don't want to be alone if I get another episode like that," she asked you timidly.
You didn't know what to do about her request.
As you were thinking about it, you felt something cold flowing down your arm.
Another tear?
It felt strangely soothing this time.
"I don't have a choice in this, do I..." you replied in a tired voice.
She jumped at you similarly as before, except this time she didn't dig her claws into your flesh.
Instead, one arm went over your arm and the other under your arm in a hug.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she repeated while hugging you.
The pain of it spread through your frostbitten body.
"No problem. Please, could you hug me with less force? It's painful," you replied while holding in the pain.
A cruel yet somehow not entirely malicious smile appeared on her face when she heard it.
"I know. That's why I'm hugging you," she replied, with that same smile on her face asa fine icy mist escaped her mouth.
Was it her, her instincts, or both making her act this way?
You knew that there would be people who would kill to be in your position.
And you'd rather not be in your position, but unfortunately you were too good or stupid of a person for this situation.
"Please. It really hurts," you muttered out.
"Just a moment longer," she said calmly, almost hopeful in a sadistic kind of way.
You just sat silent for a while, enduring the pain.
"Did she fall asleep?" you asked yourself as the hug got gentler but didn't stop.
You kind of felt bad at the prospect of ending the hug, but the pain you were experiencing was a good counterargument.
As you tried to remove yourself from her embrace, it really seemed that she had fallen asleep.
No wonder, considering she probably didn't sleep much because of all that was happening.
You were almost there in terms of removing yourself from her hug until you heard your doorbell ringing.
"Hey man, are you there? The captain told me to check on you. Brought that CDC bloodsucker, you know," you heard the muffled voice of your colleague.
The sound made the Pokemon wake up in a jolt, hitting all of your nerves at once.
"YYYEeeah, I'm here," you said, turning a scream of agony into a coherent sentence interrupted by pained hissing.
You had locked the front door.
Your FBI friend just walked through it, so it was still locked.
Sending her to open it, even in human disguise, would be suspicious at best.
Fortunately, your house had a back door that could be opened.
"Go open the back door and hide from view until they leave," you ordered the Zoroark.
She didn't object, just quickly running to the door, opening it, and hiding somewhere outside.
"Can you open the door?" asked your colleague.
"I'm not exactly in shape to do it right now. I've left the back door open so you'd have to jump over the fence," you said loudly.
An indistinguishable muttering could be heard from the outside.
In a few moments your colleague entered your house the gay way through the back door.
"That's the second time I've entered your house by jumping over your fence," he said, going over to the front door to let John in.
He didn't even bother to check up on you on his way, not to waste time.
"Where is the patient?" you heard John's voice.
The both of them entered your room.
"I've seen shits looking better than you," said your colleague.
John didn't waste any time and brought out the medical equipment and started going through all the tests.
"Your body temperature is within the boundaries of hypothermia, and those markings on your shoulders are certainly showing signs of frostbite," John said to you.
"Do I need to go to the hospital?" you asked.
"I don't think there is a need for that. Just first-stage frostbite andbruises. I'm curious as to what caused those," he replied.
So this was where the creative liberty part came from.
"My freezer got possessed by a Pokemon, and I had to wrangle it back in. Got peppered by high velocity ice cubes," you said, lying through your teeth.
"Did you keep any of those ice cubes somewhere? They might be useful," the CDC agent asked.
"Where would I keep them? In the recently possessed freezer? I just threw them into the sink," you replied.
"That's a shame," John replied.
"How did you even manage to get rid of that Pokemon? The freezer looked normal to me," asked your colleague.
"Honestly I don't know. I'd assume it got bored because it couldn't free itself from between the furniture and went to bother someone else, as no other household appliance was affected. At least I hope not," you replied.
"From the looks of it, it seems to be a Rotom," said John.
"You know what it is?" you asked.
"This isn't the first or most likely last case of one showing up," he replied.
"What was the first one?" you asked.
"One of them commandeered a car and was driving around New York. Strangely enough, following traffic rules and causing no accidents. That's kind of the reason it didn't make major news. Not enough spectacle," he replied.
"I'm going to double-check if it really isn't here anymore. What does it look like?" asked your colleague.
"Orange appliance with a face," you replied.
"Well good to know. Thankfully every piece of hardware is either white, black, grey, or silver," he said while leaving the room.
"What now?" you asked John.
"Now you are going to rest for a few days," he replied while helping you to get back into bed.
"A few days? I got to go to work!" you replied with some shock.
"Considering that you were sick a few days ago, I'd rather not see you relapse again or make your situation worse," he replied.
"Hey! Are you in the kitchen?" John shouted over.
"What about it?" replied your colleague.
"Turn on the kettle! I need some hot water!" John followed up.
"Do you have any hot water bottles somewhere? he asked you.
"Yeah they should be somewhere in the bathroom," you replied.
John left the room in search of the hot water bottles.
In the meantime, your colleague returned to your room.
"So. How do you feel?" he asked.
"Like shit," you replied.
"Well you certainly look the part," he replied, smiling.
You just stretched out your middle finger towards him with as much of a smile on your face as you could muster.
Your colleague just started laughing.
"So is the kitchen Rotom-free?" you asked.
"Found nothing in the kitchen or bathroom or living room," he replied, shrugging his arms.
"Found it!" said John, holding three hot water bottles in his hands and going to the kitchen with them.
The sounds of boiling water having stopped and faint sounds of bowls being put on the countertop.
Not soon after, the kettle was boiling water again.
Your colleague crouched to your level all of a sudden.
"I know you too well. There was never any Rotom. I don't know what is going on, but we'll talk about it later when Mr. Bloodsucker isn't present," he whispered to you.
You just nodded to him.
You were in too much shit together at this point to keep things secret from him.
John seemed like a chill guy, but you didn't fully trust him with him being CDC and all and their official stance on the matter of Pokemon being "Gotta catch them all transformees".
"Anyway I've got some good news for a change," your colleague said with a happier than usual tone.
"That being?" you inquired.
"We might be getting a raise," he said, chuckling to himself.
"You're kidding," you replied with some shock in your voice.
"Yup," he replied before bursting into laughter.
"Oh fuck you," you replied, laughing yourself.
"But on a more honest note, apparently some legislation is being made in regard to first responders who deal with Pokemon," he replied in a more serious tone.
"Anything concrete yet?" you asked.
"Not yet. Something IS in the works, but we don't know the details," he said.
"Two more weeks?" you asked.
"Two more weeks," he replied.
John entered the room with 3 hot water bottles and started putting them strategically to help you warm up.
"Now this should keep you all nice and warm," he said.
"Thanks," you said to him while feeling the warmth radiating through your pained body.
"Hopefully by the end of the day you will have the strength to walk again," he replied.
"Anything to watch out for?" you asked.
"Infections mostly. Your skin in the frostbitten areas might start to peel off. Just don't overexert yourself, and you should be fine," he replied.
"Thanks again," you said once again.
"No need. By the way, I took the liberty of taking some fresh ice cubes from the freezer. Maybe we'll find some residual material in it," he said.
"No problem, take as much as you want," you replied.
"Well I have to go, so get well," John said.
"Get well. See ya at work," said your colleague.
"Thanks," you said while melting into the warm heat reservoirs.
And just like that, they left.
But not before the CDC agent rushed back to you.
"Ah I almost forgot. Here are some painkillers to help you with the pain," said John before waving you goodbye and leaving.
You heard the door close and the key being turned.
"The key is being turned?" you thought to yourself.
But all you saw was your colleague exiting the house from the back door.
You honestly started to think that he likes to jump over your fence.
Now all you wanted from life was to drift off into the world of dreams and forget about the pain.
You woke up seeing the cold orange of the sunset on your walls.
You gathered all your strength to stand up.
For good or bad, the CDC agent was right about being able to walk.
Unfortunately, you were still sore from the ordeal.
Nothing some painkillers wouldn't fix.
You went to the kitchen to get some food.
As you needed something to fill your stomach after all of that.
The moment you stepped inside, you noticed a lot of stuff you didn't remember and a lot of stuff that shouldn't be located in the kitchen.
A laptop, haircare products, some backpacks, and random shit you didn't know the purpose of.
You were dumbstruck on why all of that was here until you remembered you got a new housemate.
A housemate that almost killed you once.
"Gotta love a woman that is going to straight up kill you," you said to yourself in a sarcastic tone.
From the looks of it, she wasn't anywhere in the house, as she probably would have noticed you waking up by now.
Her whereabouts were a mystery for you to solve later as the hunger kept creeping in on your mind.
Your motor skills were still hampered by both the pain and not having fully recovered from hypothermia, so you'd rather avoid cooking anything too complex in fear of accidentally cutting off >one of your fingers.
Microwave slop it was then.
And some tea to wash it down.
When you were finally getting ready to eat, your new housemate phased through the back door.
"Oh you are awake!" she said it like she was glad you were on your legs again.
"In fact, I am," you said while readjusting the way you were sitting.
"From what it looks like, you started moving over almost immediately," you said.
"Uhm... I waited till after sunset to get my stuff," she said to you.
"Sunset?" you asked, somewhat confused.
"You were asleep for the whole day. I didn't want to bother you while you were resting," she replied.
"That would explain why I'm so hungry. By the way, why did you leave all of your stuff in the kitchen?" you asked.
"I didn't know where I would sleep, so I decided to ask you once you woke up," she replied.
"Oh you can take the guest room. I'd help you with carrying your stuff there, but I'm not exactly capable of doing that in this moment," you said to her.
"Thank you," she replied while immediately taking some of her things there.
Once she returned for the second set of things, she stopped, and an eerie silence followed.
"I... I wanted to apologize," she said while not making eye contact.
"Didn't you already do it?" you asked.
"No not about that. I wanted to apologize for me hurting you again. I didn't want to..." she said before cutting off.
"I wanted to hurt you, and I'm sorry for that. I won't do it again," she rephrased it.
"Apology accepted. Now make yourself at home," you replied to her.
She didn't say a word afterward, just returning to moving things into the guest room.
Something about that apology felt like a lie.
But strangely enough, not directed towards you.
Considering she was an FBI agent, you thought this might have been a case of doublespeak, doublethink, newspeak, or whatever it was called, but it didn't match either.
You were convinced that she was being honest before and after cutting herself off.
Was she lying to herself?
In your mind you returned to that night she almost killed you.
"I hate you, and I hate myself because I hate you" reverberated through your brain.
"Hey! Are you alright?" she asked you.
You turned your head towards her.
"You haven't touched your... food and are staring into nothing," she followed up.
"Don't worry about me. I was just thinking about things and waiting for my tea to cool off a bit. Do you like your room?" you replied just to immediately derail the conversation.
"It is fine. A bit dusty, but fine," she replied.
"I didn't really expect guests, so I didn't dust or vacuum that place in a while. The vacuum should be in the garage if you need it," you replied.
"Oh no need for that," she replied, somewhat skittishly.
"Why?" you asked.
"I don't want to accidentally suck up my hair into it," she replied while fondling her flowing mane.
"I understand. Do you want me to clean it up once I get better?" you asked.
"I would appreciate that," she replied before returning to moving her things.
You, on the other hand, waddled your ass over to the living room to watch TV.
"... about 324 inmates have gone missing, according to the prison administration," said the reporter on TV.
Now this was interesting.
"Do you think the disappearance was linked to Pokemon in any way, shape, or form?" asked the reporter.
"We can't currently exclude that possibility, as it was proven that some Pokemon are capable of teleporting individuals great distances," replied the prison warden.
"What are your next steps?" asked the reporter.
"Our current objective is to reimprison all the escaped inmates as soon as possible. Their mugshots will be displayed countrywide in the hope of finding them as soon as possible. It is highly advised to exercise caution, as some of these inmates were serving life sentences before disappearing," said the warden.
"Welp sounds like more work for us to do. Ehh... The captain is going to kill me," you said to yourself, thinking about the times you have been absent from work recently.
Shit just kept getting worse and worse despite all efforts.
Then again, you did help prevent a murder, and that was an achievement.
Unfortunately, it was officially incidental that you ended up preventing it.
Because "It was revealed to me in a dream" would at best get you laughed out of the building and at worst get all the remaining government agencies breathing down your neck.
Maybe you'd try to find that Trevenant.
Your new housemate confirmed its presence in the rough area of that building, so possibly you could find it with her help.
Then again, it would be a conversation for tomorrow, as it was getting late.
You proceeded to check up on what Lisa and Derek were up to.
"So how was your date?"
"You know? I never thought about how small she is when compared to me," Derek replied.
"Where are you going with this? Did you do the deed?" you asked.
"No. I just never thought about how small she was in comparison to me. I later checked, and apparently I'm 4 times her weight, and I don't know how to feel about this..." he replied.
"You're a big guy" you wrote.
"UUUU" he replied.
"Returning to the original question. How was your date?" you asked.
"Not sure how to describe it. We had dinner, drank some wine, watched some movies, and then Lisa shoved her face into my neck fur and fell asleep on my back," he replied.
"How long did she stay on there?" you inquired further.
"The entire night. I didn't know what to do, so I just sat there, doing nothing," he replied.
"Well that's a weird date, all things considered," you replied.
"By the time she woke up, I was already asleep. I woke up like an hour ago, and when I did, I got a kiss on the nose from her," he continued.
"And they say long-distance relationships don't work," you replied.
"I regret nothing. Best night of my fucking life," he wrote.
"Have you gone home yet?" you asked.
"Nah. I'm still at her place. I'm going to wait till nightfall to not attract any attention to myself. Well... More attention to myself after my grocery trip ended up on TV," he replied.
"Out of curiosity, was there any pinkish mist at Lisa's place?" you asked.
"Like pheromones? No. I don't think I'm being influenced by her. Lisa explicitly warned me about them before we even met in person, and she kept the house well ventilated," he replied.
"That's good to hear," you replied.
Fedoark Intermission
You took a look at yourself in the mirror.
It was the first time you did it without your disguise.
No more illusions, no more lies, just the new you.
Your eyes, yellow like jaundice.
Your fur, white as snow.
And your boils, a malignant shade of blood red.
You used a finger to get a better look at your teeth.
Pearly white.
You hated it.
You hated the mirror.
And you hated yourself.
Without noticing, you accidentally cut your own inner lip with your claw, but you didn't stop.
The metallic taste of your own blood was followed by a taste or, more likely, a smell.
A smell best described as a rot.
You stood there in front of the mirror, breathing irregularly, feeling your blood flowing down your arm.
Looking at your mirror image getting slowly covered in frost.
As the image became unrecognizable, you started to regain your senses.
"What has happened to me?" you asked out loud to no one but yourself.
You cleaned off the blood off the floor but couldn't get it out of your fur.
Now a red streak ran down your face and arm.
By the time you cleaned it up the mirror had defrosted, allowing you to see yourself again.
You tried taking your old human form, but it had a similar effect.
"Dead, dead, dead," echoed through your mind.
Hateful, mocking, honest were the words you'd use to describe it.
You couldn't tell if it was your own thoughts or your instincts speaking, only that they were yours but not yours at the same time.
Or maybe they were yours and you were just lying to yourself?
You started overthinking the repeating words over and over again.
What did they mean?
Was your past dead, or was it your future that was dead?
Were you dead, or were you death?
The thoughts were enough to break you out of your disguise and force you to lie on the bathroom floor.
You needed help.
"Liar, liar, liar" began to repeat in your mind.
You got back on your feet and walked out in search of the only person willing to help you in your state.
You were too afraid to go to your family or friends with the issues you were facing.
You didn't want to hurt them.
You didn't trust yourself.
And here you were.
Dragging yourself to someone you called a "friend" not knowing if you'd attempt to kill him again.
A hypocrite—that's what you were.
Once you walked through the door, you saw him sleeping like nothing ever happened.
It would be so easy to kill him now.
Maybe he would become like you after death.
But what if he doesn't?
Then you would have killed someone you considered a friend.
A friend that had the opportunity to kill you but didn't.
He said that you weren't the worst case he has seen.
Was this the reason he slept so calmly?
Was he telling the truth?
Or was he lying to you?
"Liar, liar, liar" began to repeat in your mind as you approached him.
You hated him.
He had something you lost, and you wanted to see him dead for it.
He shouldn't have uncovered your secret.
He should have blown your brains out when he had the chance so your suffering would have ended right then and there.
And yet if he didn't, you would have no one to turn to.
You would be even more alone than you are right now.
So you now stood above him.
One swipe with your claws to the throat would end it quickly.
Or you could try ripping his heart out.
Your hand was above his chest.
But you couldn't do it.
"Friend," was reverberating its way through your thoughts.
You grabbed his hand and put it to your face.
You felt warmth.
You sat on the floor, coddling his hand to your face.
"Was he really lying to me?" you thought to yourself.
Maybe killing him could wait for a while longer.
Back to Copanon
You woke up feeling better.
Except for one part.
Your hand.
It felt numb to you.
You almost dropped when you saw it.
It was covered in dried blood.
Was it yours?
You stood up and looked at yourself but found no blood in any other place on your body.
There were some dried blood drops of it on the floor, however.
You rushed to the bathroom to wash it off.
The warm water felt great to your numb hand, and the blood was being washed off somewhat.
The metallic smell, however, lingered.
You grabbed some hydrogen peroxide to get rid of what wasn't cleaned off and find any cuts.
The blood went off, but you found no cuts on your hand.
"If it wasn't my blood, then whose was it?" you thought to yourself.
You took a look at the floor and found some red smears on it.
Seemingly someone tried to clean them off.
Being fair, you already knew who to suspect about what happened.
You knocked at the door to the guest room.
"Hey. Have you woken up yet? I need to ask you something," you said.
"Eugh... just give me a moment," she replied.
It took her a minute for you to even hear her getting out of bed and walking towards the door.
When you thought she would open the door, you heard an empty thud instead.
"Stupid door," she shouted after walking directly into it.
You heard rustling before she attempted the trick again.
This time she phased directly through it.
"Have you forgotten that doors exist?" you asked her with your arms crossed.
"I didn't sleep very well. Usually I just phase through them on my first try. At this point I view doors as something others need. I have personally transcended the need for them," she replied, half awake.
"Either way, I had a question for you," you said to her.
You took one look at her face and knew that something was off.
A red streak going down from her mouth and a very visible reddish discoloration over the rest of her face.
You knew that you'd found your prime suspect.
"What's that thing on your face?" you asked her.
"What thi..." she tried to reply but stopped once her hand touched her face.
It didn't look pleasant for her.
Her facial fur was stuck together, and the sensation of pulling it apart looked really unpleasant.
Her demeanor also changed, as if a large amount of caffeine hit her brain all at once.
She didn't bother answering the question, instead just rushing to the bathroom.
You heard the faucet turn on and the water start to splash.
She didn't bother to close the door, so you casually strolled over to her.
She did indeed notice you approaching through the mirror in moments between cleaning her face off with water.
"Ask your damn question," she said.
"I already did. Didn't I?" you replied.
"Blood..." she replied, still angrily trying to clean her face.
"Whose blood?" you continued investigating.
"Mine. I cut myself on accident," she replied, still angrily washing her face.
"Well then why did I wake up with a bloody hand?" you asked her.
"I don't know, Governor. Was it supposed to fall off or something?" she replied in the most passive-aggressive way possible with the fakest British accent possible.
It was clear to you that she was trying to avoid answering the question.
But on the other hand, her reply did make you chuckle.
"That was a good one, I'll give you that," you replied with a bit of a chuckle.
"Well that one is on the house," she said before returning to washing her face, but no matter what she did, she couldn't get rid of those last traces of red from her fur.
"If you want to get rid of that blood, I have some hydrogen peroxide on hand," you said to her.
"Thanks but I'll do without," she replied.
"Whatever you say. I just wanted to know why my hand was covered in blood when I woke up today and considering that..." you said before being cut off by her.
"I'm the only other person in this house, AND I'm also covered in blood, so I must have something to do with it?" she said.
"You keep dancing around answering my question, you know that?" you asked her.
"Well maybe I don't want to answer it?" she replied.
"So my hand and your face were covered in your blood," you said.
"Where are you going with this?" she asked, clearly not pleased by you digging up the subject any further.
"Oh nowhere I just want to know why you were smearing your blood all over my hand with your face.Did you want to kill me again?Did you want headpats or something? Some other 3rd thing?" you asked sarcastically.
Her demeanor immediately changed from being confrontational to avoidant.
You weren't sure if she knew it, but her ears became droopy in that moment.
"Ehh... I'm just going to assume it was the first one..." you said.
"It was also the second one..." she replied timidly.
Her words were enough to send you to the "But I did eat breakfast," section of the IQ bell curve.
You put your fingers on your nasal bridge in an attempt to comprehend whatever was going on inside her head.
"Listen... I won't kick you out over you wanting headpats in the middle of the night out of all fucking things. But I need you to be honest with me. Do you understand?" you stated with authority.
All she could muster up to say to you was a timid "Yes."
"Now tell me why you cut yourself," you demanded with a tired tone.
"I... I was inspecting my teeth. I used my claw to pull away my lip and... and... I had another breakdown. I didn't notice when I started cutting into it," she replied with timidity and a lack of confidence.
"Don't beat yourself up over it. I know this is a hard time for you, but I'm here to help you to make it a bit more bearable," you said to her trying to seem caring.
"T-Thank you..." she replied, still timidly.
"Next time if you want headpats, just ask me. Now get a bit closer. I'm going to help you with the remaining blood," you said.
She didn't protest and let you help herself.
You used some hydrogen peroxide to clean out some of the more egregious blood splatters.
The peroxide made it easy to get rid of them.
But the bigger issue was the rest of her face being slightly pink.
It would probably return to normal with time, but you'd rather avoid leaving any potential trauma triggers for her.
You went carefully all over her face using a diluted solution to wash it out.
It was somewhat successful.
There was some still around her eyes, but you didn't want to accidentally pour some of it into them.
You used a towel to dry her off and proceeded to clean the blood off the floor.
Thankfully you had once had a chat with one of those people who cleaned up crime scenes, so you knew how to clean off the blood without much issue.
You were done for the day.
All you had to do now was to look at your frostbite marks.
They were still sore but less than yesterday, so it was an improvement.
You took your medication and proceeded to watch some TV like you usually do.
"Uhm... Do you have some time?" you heard your housemate ask you.
"Sure. What's the issue?" you asked.
"Could you... Could I..." she tried asking?
"Headpats?" you replied.
"...Yes," she quickly said.
"Ehh... Come here," you replied.
She didn't waste much time jumping on the couch next to you and putting her face into your hand.
She behaved surprisingly cat-like in a way.
Her head kept on pushing against your hand, so you had to use some force to keep her from falling over.
She still felt cold to the touch but different from before.
Less like touching ice and more like the cold side of a pillow or a cool breeze on a hot day.
Strangely therapeutic.
News segments came and went without you noticing much interesting.
The supply chain was still fucked, and most people who aren't the CDC or "believe the science" types didn't give a single iota of a shit about potential infection.
If all of this was a Plague Inc. scenario, it would be on easy difficulty.
And that wouldn't even be a stretch.
What are the chances of people NOT going out of their way to hug or pet a Pokemon when given the opportunity?
For fuck's sake, you are giving headpats to one at this very moment.
One that isn't exactly the safest one to give headpats to, but the point still stands.
On the topic of headpats, your hand seemingly developed a will of its own, giving her scratches behind her ears without you noticing.
She didn't seem to mind.
But your arm slowly started to feel sore from having to constantly push against her, pushing her head against it.
Maybe you could fit it somewhere into your workout routine at some point.
After some time you were giving her chin scratches, and the problem reached its peak.
You have been moving your hand further away so you wouldn't poke too deep into her flesh, but she kept moving her head forwards.
You had no other choice than to stop before she fell off the couch onto the floor or onto you.
"Hey! How about we take a break?" you asked her while holding her face to prevent her from face-planting onto the floor.
"Wha?" she tried asking, disoriented from the ordeal.
"Jesus! How long was I out?" she asked in shock after getting a grip on herself, clearly embarrassed over the whole thing.
"About half an hour," you replied nonchalantly.
She lied down on the couch and hid her face behind her arms.
There was no hiding it.
She was embarrassed.
"Just kill me," she said, muffled.
"Nah," you said while starting to scratch behind her ear again.
You felt like a necromancer seeing her instinctively follow your hand upwards.
Good to know that she had instincts and reflexes that didn't involve violence and sadism.
"I'm going to kill you for this, you know that? she replied with her eyes closed.
"Third time's the charm," you replied.
She didn't say anything.
Just giving you a simple smile.