TWO YEARS AGO, A CRIMINAL ORGANIZATION GOING BY THE NAME TEAM IMUM WRECKED CHAOS ACROSS THE LAND, DAMAGING CITIES AND KILLING THOUSANDS OF CITIZENS. While Imum itself has long since been disbanded, however, the region remains broken: entire towns have been laid to waste and the Association struggles to find homes for those who were lucky enough to survive the attempted genocide. Reconstruction trudges on as usual... but with three factions - the Association, the corporations, and the people - each wishing to take the rebuilding of an entire region down opposite paths, how long will it be before Lyeant's last leg gives out permanently?
03.01
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01.28
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Post by Tàishū Hǎi on Mar 20, 2017 14:04:23 GMT -6
我想回家 . . .
[attr="class","postbody"]The room was too small for two people, really. It could physically hold them, especially with Mercer sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia in Taishu's bed, but it just felt too small, too cramped. He held the weight as gracefully as ever, but it still got to him. He'd sat in there for a few hours, hands wrapped around a gun, finger against the trigger guard, but eventually he just couldn't do it anymore and had to leave. Hunger gnawed at him from the effort of not only murder, but self defense, and ideally cooking would help keep his exhaustion at bay a little longer. He'd already drank enough coffee to make himself sick. He had to stay awake. Mercer could too easily kill him in his sleep. Done proper, a slice across his neck and he'd bleed out in second. He'd fought too hard for his life to go out now and so gracelessly.
He stretched, joints popping but still not feeling quite right, but he didn't strain them more. He told himself that his hands shook because of the lack of sleep paired with the coffee. He clenched them into fists, then relaxed them as he walked into the small kitchen. It was somewhere around ten in the morning which was late enough for him to justify skipping breakfast and going straight to lunch. He went through the motions of making stirfry. Noodles, eggs, carrots, chicken, and whatever else he could throw in, really. He ached like he hadn't eaten in days and he wasn't sure if this was going to turn into something where he could only eat a little before he felt sick or if he would eat it all and still crave more. He contemplated his appetite as he cooked, still ever listening for the sounds of Mercer waking up or approaching.
Inevitably, the sounds came. He heard an initial hiss of pain and then silence, presumably brought about by the unfamiliar setting. "I wouldn't move too much." He said over the breakfast counter dividing the kitchen from the bedroom, "Your stitches are still fresh and I would prefer if you didn't bleed onto my bed." He paused in his cooking and looked over his shoulder. "You're not vegetarian, are you?" He turned back and resumed cooking, "You can make your own food, if you are. The pain medicine the doctor prescribed are on the table next to you." He flicked the burner off and served the food into bowls, carrying them back around the breakfast counter and handing one to Mercer. He settled down in the desk chair and crossed his legs before jumping straight into business. "I'm not exactly interested in having you try to kill me for whatever reason. We went after the same guy, got in each other's way, but the guy's dead now and we have a body to clean up." He picked out a water chestnut and ate it before continuing, "So how about we clean up the body and do our best to ensure this doesn't happen again?"
Post by Tàishū Hǎi on Feb 15, 2017 16:08:36 GMT -6
我想回家 . . .
[attr="class","postbody"]Persistent. Somehow, he didn't like that word being attached to him within this context. He just wanted to ensure trouble wouldn't be caused. "I would just rather not have police around here looking for a missing young woman." Taishu explained, "It's bad for business, so I'm glad you've made a decision to do something other than loiter around in a dangerous area in the middle of the night. because I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't willing to go through with it." He turned and waved for her to follow, "It's this way."
After several minutes of walking in silence, he paused midstride for half a second and then spoke again. "I don't think I introduced myself. My name's Tàishū Hǎi. I'm running the reconstruction efforts out here, but I also run a group of exorcists." It was weird, wasn't it, that he was living out here in the ruins of a gym, especially since he now was leading her to it. An explanation would ideally ease some of her worries, not that she seemed particularly worried. It would more accurately ease his worries about her being worried. Regardless, it certainly wouldn't hurt to provide her with some context. "During and after the war with Imum, there was a rise in ghost pokemon populations. We work to calm them and move them somewhere more suitable." He continued, "And since we're involved in the reconstruction efforts, we work out of the old gym. It's been fixed up, though. Maybe not good as new, but something kind of close." As they neared the gym the streetlights became more frequent and consistently working, casting enough light to see that the general area had already been mostly restored. Buildings had been rebuilt, but they still stood empty and still, making the lonely atmosphere even heavier. Tai felt the weight, but it didn't faze him like it used to. He'd lived here long enough to have gotten used to the hyper emptiness of unoccupied home after unoccupied home.
"Please take your shoes off." He said as he stepped inside of the gym and slipped his own off before he set them neatly by the door. Half the lights in the gym were on, creating spots of darkness but allowing them to see well enough. The gym opened up into a large room, a door on the far wall, and decorated only by two sofas placed in the middle of the room, facing each other and separated by a knee-height rectangular coffee table with a map of Lyeant spread across its surface. The sparse furnishing made it seem even larger. Tai picked up a half completed knitting project from the sofa and set it on the table. "You can sit here, if you want. I'll go heat up the curry." He walked to and through the door on the far end. It opened into a small studio apartment, although before it'd been destroyed it had been an office half the size. He pulled the curry out of the fridge and began to heat it on the stove. Fifteen to twenty minutes later, he poured the now hot curry into two bowls, grabbed some silverware, and walked back to Lorelei in the main room. He set her bowl on the table, but kept his in his hand as he sat down and stirred it. "So is there anything you want to do to your house?" He cautiously brought the topic back up, having not previously been told to drop it.
Post by Tàishū Hǎi on Jan 30, 2017 19:01:59 GMT -6
我想回家 . . .
[attr="class","postbody"]He was hesitant to even step inside, let alone trust someone's life to a doctor working out of such a shoddy apartment. However, at this point, there were no alternatives. This Concordia was Mercer's only hope at survival. So, he helped get him onto the table in the back.
"So what are you doing back in these parts?" He glanced at Mercer, wondering if he would say that he'd been stabbed by the guy now trying to save his life. He avoided the question, though, and Tai saw the way he shook his head ever so slightly. His attempts to make eye contact failed for the most part, but he got the idea. Either she wasn't to be trusted or Mercer valued his pride too much to admit that five foot four got him good. Tai didn't care, whichever it was.
With Mercer on the table and Concordia doing her thing, Tai stepped away to a sink. He washed his hands and face of blood, both Mercer's and Mr. Finch's. The water was so cold it made his hands ache. His skin was numb and it seeped fast into his bones and joints, tightening them up. He hastily dried them before shoving them in his jacket pockets, eager to warm them again. He wandered off to look out onto the street from a hazy window.
He'd been here before. He'd been just about everywhere or so it felt like. His work brought him all over, but before that he was looking for someone in the wake of the Imum war. Never did find her. Dead end after dead end and he still didn't know if she was alive or dead. It was a common story, enough for him to know that she was probably dead. He'd accepted that fact over a year ago and now it was all just a dull ache in his chest. Still, he could smell the smokey air and taste the shitty beer of the seedy bar they'd gone to once around here. Dear Jackie always felt more comfortable in the dark shadows of buildings built too close together. Just another face lost to the war and another friend he couldn't find.
He didn't want to stay here longer than necessary, but he felt morally obligated to stick around to find out whether Mercer was going to die or not. Knowing benefited him, too. If he died, he had a little head start on fabricating an alibi and if he didn't, then ideally Mercer would thank him for not leaving him to die and not come after him. Perhaps he ought to start thinking of an alibi now. Just in case Mercer turned out to be too bug of a threat.
He turned away from the window and settled down on the sofa. It was a composite wood frame with cushions tossed onto it, but he was just grateful to sit again. His whole body ached and now without adrenaline keeping him going, weariness weighed heavy on him. Don't sleep, he told himself though. They'll kill you in your sleep. He watched Concordia as she cleaned up Mercer's wounds. He didn't look conscious anymore, but at least he seemed to still breathing.
"What's your blood type?" Concordia's voice snapped him out of the dozing sleep he'd falled into. She was standing in front of him, wiping blood from her hands, and the sudden proximity made him jump. How long had he been asleep? A few minutes or an hour or more?
"B positive." He stammered over the reply as his brain kicked back into activity. She nodded satisfied apparently with his answer and gestured for him to follow. He did after a split second of hesitation. The only reason she would be asking for his blood type was if she needed it and although he certainly didn't trust Concordia, he could do without the extra corpse for now.
He hated giving blood. He hated the tense feeling in the crook of his arm and just knowing that something that was supposed to stay in his body was gathering in a plastic bag outside of it. Made him feel kinda sick. He'd done it enough times after the war to have learned how to ignore the feeling, though. He didn't watch as the blood flowed from his arm and instead eyed Concorida. She was cleaning some tools and occasionally checking to make sure Tai's blood was draining properly.
"He needs to rest, but he can't rest here." She checked Mercer's stitches again, "I need this table and I don't have anywhere else for him." She eyed Tai expectantly and his sigh hissed from between his teeth. Of course he was expected to take him, probably because he was the one who brought him. A real damn pain in the ass. He supposed it wasn't an absolutely horrible idea because he could keep an eye on Mercer and try to convince him that they weren't, in fact, enemies and they weren't, in fact, going to get arrested for murder. And if they did, it was most certainly Mercer's own fault. Had he not been so quick to assume—
Then again, Tai did let it become personal. He felt his knuckles throb and he was suddenly aware again of the burning heat in them as well as the pain. Had he broken something? He would get them checked out later. For now, he just let his mind settle on the ghost feelings of punching Mr. Finch's face again and again and again. It had been unprofessional. He'd let his anger at the abuse he'd done make it personal and he'd wasted too much time beating up an already dead man. If he'd been quick about it like he was supposed to, maybe at least he would've been able to dispose of the body. A little of this was his own fault, he would admit that much. A little of it.
"I'll take him." He gave in as he continued to tell himself this wasn't an entirely suicidal idea. Concordia flashed a grin that looked out of place on her face and double checked Mercer's stitching.
"So, what's your name kid?" She suddenly broke the silence of the room and Tai was a little irritated by it. They had time to kill, though, as the blood dripped down the tube and into Mercer. Taishu eyed it impatiently before turning his attention back to Concordia. She was looking at him again. He didn't like the way she looked at him. Her eyes seemed to hide something and it made his skin prickle and crawl.
"Yuru." He pulled a name from off the top of his head. Always a different one, always someone who didn't exist. He always covered his tracks. Carefully filtered information and crafted lies so as to give the impression he was giving information when he was giving nothing but dead ends. He wasn't new to this game anymore. Neither was Concorida, considering she was friends with a hitman like Mercer and so he was certain she knew he was lying. She didn't call him out and instead nodded, seemingly satisfied enough with having something to call him. She moved along to idle talk. She told him the details of Mercer's state and listed how to generally care for stitches, although she seemed fairly confident in Mercer's ability to take care of himself. Taishu remained quiet for the most part, offering comments and awknowledment as needed. He wasn't invested in the conversation, but it helped pass the time, at least. He wasn't sure what her intention was in such idle chatter, perhaps just to harmlessly pass the time, but he was grateful when she pointed out that the blood transfusion was done and said they were okay to leave. Together, they helped Mercer into the car. She waved them off and Tai watched her grow smaller and smaller as they drove away.
In the safety of the car, Taishu pulled off his gloves and examined his hands. His fingers were black, blue, and swollen. Somehow looking at them made them hurt more, so he carefully put his gloves back on and folded his hands in his lap. It was going to be a long drive back to Old Veherna and for a while he watched the city lights zip by, growing in density, then decreasing as they headed out of town. Eventually it was just the rhythmic passing of warm yellow street lights and the hum of the car engine. They were safe enough in the car, more and more distance being put between them and the the city, and with Mercer likely to be out for another several hours, Tai let himself fall asleep leaning against the door and window. He was just so tired. Between murder, attempted murder slash self defense, and then trying to save Mercer, he was exhausted and it weighed on him like lead. He couldn't have stayed awake if he'd wanted to.
Post by Tàishū Hǎi on Jan 20, 2017 15:17:29 GMT -6
我想回家 . . .
[attr="class","postbody"]She offered such harsh words, anger bubbling up in her tone, but it all rolled off of his shoulders. He'd had good intentions in rebuilding the area and while she was upset, it wasn't his responsibility to feel guilty. How was he to know that she would've preferred this place left as was, rotting and decrepit? He had no way of knowing to not rebuild, but it wasn't like he still couldn't amend the situation. "Since it was your home, if you would rather we could take it down and put something else entirely there. Not necessarily a building. A garden, maybe." He offered as he looked at the empty house, paint still fresh and clean, "It's your home. Whatever you want to do, we'll help you do it." He looked back at Lorelei with soft, tired eyes. Beside him, Nihai tensed, clenched, and relaxed their hands repeatedly. Something was putting him on edge and Taishu knew well enough to trust his companion's instinct, but he also wanted to trust the stranger. This had been her home and clearly he'd made a mistake in rebuilding it. Nihai hadn't started making any actual moves of aggression, though, so he still felt safe enough. He did keep an eye on Nihai, though. "Not that we have to speak of this now." He added on, "We can always discuss this later."
He frowned a little at her rejection. It wasn't that he particularly wished to speak, in fact he had very little to say, but he did want to know why someone was wondering around here at night. He was fairly certain she wasn't a thief or some other sort of criminal, but still, it was a weird time to visit. Especially since it was so cold out. Tai tugged his jacket a little tighter and shoved his hands in his pocket, balling them into fists and hoping they would warm up again soon. "Are you sure?" He wanted to offer one more time, mostly because he was cold and felt guilty at the idea of just leaving, "There's curry, still, if you're hungry." If she rejected him again, perhaps he would just leave. Trust her to not cause trouble. "If not, please go home." He said it like a suggestion, "It can be dangerous out here at night. Some of the buildings are unstable and there aren't a lot of lights anymore. And thieves like to come at night to steal what little is left." Granted, she was already out here in the middle of the night, so she was probably confident enough in her ability to take care of herself. He still wanted to push for her to leave. It would be a little less on his mind. A little less anxiety and a little less to worry about.
Post by Tàishū Hǎi on Jan 20, 2017 13:33:59 GMT -6
I'm on mobile, but if you look at the grand opening event thread, now archived, it says this:
"After a trying month of protests, brutality, and raids, control over one of two of the Pokemon Association's remaining strongholds in the Lyeant region was ripped from them and placed in the hands of the Republic of Lyeant – a political faction that, while quickly growing in popularity, had never been thought of as on par with the titans of Parallax and the Association."
This was by no means a peaceful come to power and as such I think we can safely assume that this is not a particularly cold war. I imagine there are little raids happening everywhere, everyone trying to tear down their competition.
Post by Tàishū Hǎi on Jan 20, 2017 10:58:57 GMT -6
Regardless of whether the war is classified as hot or not, I think we can safely assume people don't want to be in certain cities when war does break out. They will want to flee and will probably want assistance. It may not be as fancy or secretive as it could be and might just be a network of people hooking people up with rides, necessary paperwork, homes, and jobs in their new city of residence. we're not trying to do like a direct copy of the underground railroad. That was probably used as an example of the general sort of thing that Ariel wants to do.
Also the cold war between russia and the US had a lot of hot proxy conflicts in other places so that's a bad example my dude
Post by Tàishū Hǎi on Jan 20, 2017 10:38:34 GMT -6
Idk the details really, but I can't imagine Lyeant as being particularly peaceful considering the plot. Maybe not full out war, but there is surely a war. That's the whole plot. A civil war. And as Ariel was saying, war isn't pretty or generally peaceful. In this time of war, I'm sure people are scared to have one opinion when the city is dominated by those with another.
The Seers would definitely like to assist the republic here, although unofficially since they are trying to remain neutral to the public. So this is probably done secretly by Tai and a select few others. Because they are a publicly unbiased faction, they can be in contact with those who want to move to new veherna or somewhere else without arousing any suspicion, allowing for easier communication.
Post by Tàishū Hǎi on Jan 16, 2017 12:22:51 GMT -6
我想回家 . . .
[attr="class","postbody"]He had half a mind to just drop Mercer then and there, leave him to die or to the cops. Just how incompetent did Mercer think he was? And god, what an amateurish idea, staging a suicide. Had he taken the idea from those grossly popular crime shows on television? "Had you not interrupted," He looked at Mercer sharply and long lashes did little to dampen the edge, "there already wouldn't have been a body to even find. A story to feed the media and police had already been prepared. A real pity you had to fuck it all up." He was starting to feel rather angry with Mercer at this point. He had worked hard to get to the point of being invited over and he didn't even get to finish the job. He still had work to do. He needed to get back there before the police realized there a corpse in the apartment.
Mercer was quiet for a moment, then continued on, and Taishu was suddenly very aware of the weight Mercer put on him. He was heavier than before. Leaned on him harder. He sounded labored, like each word took incredible effort for him to form. Tai wondered if some unlicenced doctor would really be enough to ensure his life. Worst case scenario, Mercer died, his death potentially linked to him, and then he'd be charged with treason or something. No big deal. Taishu let out a sigh that hissed between his teeth as he looked at the map. He was familiar with the area and it wasn't a place he felt particularly comfortable going to. He didn't have a good alternative once you crossed out hospitals, though. "Alright, I'll get you there." He assured, "In the meantime, don't talk so much. Focus on staying awake." He looked up at the doors as the elevator slowed to a stop. They still had to actually get to the surface.
Taishu fiddled awkwardly with his pokegear, his dominant arm occupied with supporting Mercer. He had to adjust his grip twice before he was able to get the call through. "Hey!" He hummed cheerily, smiling as if he wasn't half dragging a dying man, "We're coming out now, so can you come pick us up? Okay, great. Thanks!" He snapped the pokegear shut and shoved it in his pocket successfully on the first try. He continued helping Mercer out of the lobby and to the underwater streets outside.
The girl in the car certainly didn't seem happy when she drove up. Tai ignored it and helped Mercer into the back seat before sliding in next to him. "Change of plans, Valerie: I need you to take us here." He pulled up the information Mercer shared with him several minutes ago and sent it to her pokegear. She hissed something but obliged in initial silence. She broke it as they drove through the tunnel to the surface, yellow lights zipping by in even measure.
"Who is he?" She eyed Mercer for a couple of seconds through the rearview mirror, then looked back at the road.
"A dying asshole." Tai grumbled, but he paused, sighed, and continued again, "He's with us. It looks like he was sent by the republic to take out Finch. We got into a fight and so I stabbed him. On the other hand, though, his death would bring trouble. How long will it take to get there?" She assured him that they would get there in time and fell quiet again, focusing on the road.
Taishu shifted around to get a better look at Mercer's side, pulling up his shirt and so gently touching at the skin. "Pity I don't have my suture kit." He let go and wiped the blood in Mercer's shirt, " You'll probably be fine. A few stitches and a bath." He wondered if Mercer was afraid of dying. He personally felt that after the Imum war, death had a disjointed feeling about it. He'd already been on its edge, teetered there precariously before falling back to the side of continued life. Now somehow, to him, death felt like a housecat trying to be a lion. "Don't fall asleep, okay?" He patted his shoulder and settled back down in his seat.
He watched the city lights sparkling like stars zip and fade by, darkness rapidly creeping closer as they drove into the less reputable area of town. He didn't pay much attention to the details of their surroundings, though, and was more interested in keeping Mercer awake. It wasn't like staying awake would actually help him stay alive, but if he passed out then it meant he'd lost too much blood and had only a little time left.
The car lurched to a stop and Valerie quickly got out to help Tai get Mercer at least to the door. Taishu knocked hard and incessantly, not stopping until the door was opened.
Post by Tàishū Hǎi on Jan 10, 2017 21:09:18 GMT -6
我想回家 . . .
[attr="class","postbody"]"Oh get off your own dick already." He laughed sharply, breathlessly, "This is the most competent hit they've tried to do and you know it. While they're chasing small transgressors, I'm taking care of the actual proble—." He choked, the garble and strangled remains of his sentence coming out as nothing more than meaningless sound as Mercer shoved him down by his neck. Memories flooded his head in the short time of contact.
Taishu saw himself— no, it wasn't him, this wasn't his memory. Whose was it? What was his name? It came to mind, pulled from the memories. Mercer. That's right, his name was Mercer. He saw Mercer receive the order for a hit.. He could taste the cigarette in his mouth, they way it burned his throat and lungs, and how he enjoyed the sensation. The memories skipped ahead in broken fragments, like jumping from one stone to another of a river of time. They resumed much more smoothly when he opened the door to the apartment of Mr. Alexis Finch.
He saw himself, his actual self, staring at back at Mercer, straddling Mr. Finch's corpse. He felt the way Mercer did in that moment. He was thoroughly insulted by how lowly Mercer thought of him. He felt pain and warmth bloom in his side as he dug the knife into Mercer and he knew then that Mercer was worse off than he was letting on. As the short term memories caught up to present time, they stopped and left him feeling empty and confused as his brain tried to separate his memories from the new ones that just felt so like his own.
Mercer's hand pulled away from his neck as gravity pulled Taishu down to the ground. His head bounced on the tile and for a moment his vision swam while his lungs struggled to fill themselves after having the wind knocked from them. His brain fought to form a thought in the shock of the impact as well as the memories. He laid there stunned at first, head throbbing in every way, unable to do more than watch. He watched as Mercer kicked away the gun and stood on his knife. A pity. He could've used that, but whatever. Lost was lost and he certainly wasn't going to be able to get it with Mercer standing in it like that, so instead of trying, he just looked up at Mercer. He loomed over him, sillhouted so nicely by the dim lighting coming from somewhere behind him. He ought to be scared, he realized as his head began to clear, but he couldn't help but feel smug satisfaction at how he stabbed him not once, but twice. He was acting high and mighty, but Taishu knew was feeling that blood loss. He'd collapse soon.
Ah, but that was bad, wasn't it. He'd have to carry him out, because while he liked the idea of leaving him behind, the fact if the matter was that he needed to cover his tracks and leaving Mercer behind would just eventually turn eyes to him. "Alright." He breathed, taking another couple breaths before he started to get to his feet. Not once did he look away from Mercer as he did so. "We can't leave the gun here." He looked around for it, then upon spotting it, walked over to it and picked it up. He popped the magazine out and counted the number of rounds before popping it back in. For a few seconds, he stared at the corpse of Mr. Finch. It hadn't been in his plan to leave it here, but there was little he could do about it now, so he looked back at Mercer. "Follow me." He'd done extensive research on the area, more than he assumed Mercer had, and had a couple routes in mind. He walked to the door, opened it, and peered into the hall. It was clear for now aside from the porygon. "Put your pokemon back in their ball." He paused, reconsidered Mercer's condition, then quickly went back to help him walk. "You know, if you weren't so hasty, we wouldn't be in this situation." He would drag him down the hall if he had to. They had to get away as soon as possible, before police showed up and before Mercer passed out.
"Over here, get over here." He pulled him towards the elevator and tore off a glove, covered still in blood, and jabbed the elevator call button. He shoved Mercer into the elevator the moment he determined it was empty and followed on his heels. He jabbed at the lobby button before putting his glove back on. He used his sleeves to wipe the blood off his face, the red impossible to see in the black of his sweater. "Try to look less like you're dying and more like you're drunk, okay? Ought to make this easier." If they could get past the place's security, if they could get to the ride he'd arranged to get out of here, they'd be fine. Probably.
[attr="class","postbody"]Mercer underestimated him. In Tai's bargaining he'd had plenty of opportunities to shoot him down. Was it hesitation or the overconfidence of a predator who thought his prey wouldn't fight back? Tai had hoped it would be his downfall, whatever it was, but while he got a couple good hits in, it just hadn't been enough.
He should've been faster. Should've gone for the neck the second time, not the third, because Mercer reacted between those attacks and now Tai was falling, shoved off balance far more easily than he had expected. Split second thoughts filled his mind. He saw himself on the ground, scrambling to get up, but too slow, too slow, and his brain painted the floor. On the ground he'd be such an easy target and at this distance Mercer wouldn't miss. At the same time he realized this was where he died: On the floor of another man's apartment. How would the media tell it? Would they declare him his lover? Disgusting. Not like he had anyone in his life who would defend him, though. Everyone was six feet under or rotting still in a skeleton city.
He hissed and grunted with pain as he was jolted back to clarity, kept off the ground by Mercer who had snatched him up by the wrist just heartbeats after he began his descent. His arm snapped taut, bones and joints protesting, aching and burning as he lost as footing completely in the movement of it all. He hung there awkwardly, scrambling to get his feet back under him. What footing he gained in that second was lost though, as Mercer wrenched him too close and squeezed his wrist so tight that his fingers tingled and bones creaked. He wondered if it was possible for someone to break a wrist with one hand. Regardless, the knife tumbled away. He couldn't keep his hand clenched with the lack of blood flow. It felt cold, but burned hot like the tears in his eyes. Never, though, did he look scared.
He could feel Mercer's memories at his mind's edge and oh he hated it. The vague feelings and shadowy images, all so muddled and all so not his own. He smacked his other hand onto Mercer's face, trying to push himself away as well as maybe take out an eye. Maybe if he could shove his finger in far enough, hard enough, he'd hit his brain. Was that even physically possible? He wasn't sure. He tried to jab his finger in hard enough to find out.
"The republic didn't send me." He snapped, still trying to get away and still trying to at least blind Mercer, "No one sent me you stupid fuck. I wanted him dead. Why the fuck would the republic send me to kill people? I'm just a bleeding heart." He sneered in disgust.
He quickly changed tactics when he decided the eye hunt just wasn't providing results fast enough. He grabbed the hand holding him, and started to pull himself up, lifting his legs from the ground. He kicked sharply at Mercer, aiming for his gut as well as his groin. Ideally a good solid hit would be enough for him to drop him, although that would put him on the floor. He told himself that because he was planning this, he would be able to get to his feet fast enough and make a bolt either for the door or the gun. He hadn't decided which yet. He was leaning towards the gun. Mercer knew his face, his name, and presumably what he'd done. He'd ruin him assuming he didn't hunt Tai down and murder him first. Running would just delay the grand finale of this fight. Mercer was already injured, so if he could just get away and get that gun. It was his best chance. He was exhausted and he was smaller than Mercer in every way. He'd only gotten this far on luck and adrenaline. In any other circumstance, he'd probably already be a corpse. That was what made Mercer's assumption such bullshit. Did he even think? For a moment did he even think about the situation?
[attr="class","postbody"]He watched him as he circled the room. He was accessing the situation, probably, and Tai felt like a deer in the headlights. He needed to figure out the best course of action. Taishu's eyes flicked to the door and then back. Could he make it? He was fast, but he decided not fast enough. Mercer would chase him, shoot him as he ran. He'd lose that fight. Adrenaline rushed through him, heart thudding against his chest. Could Mercer hear it in the silence of the room?
Doe eyed face dropped away to anger and fear as Mercer spoke. He was quiet, his voice too calm, too bored for someone who said he's going to murder him. He was insulted, both at how easy the man thought it was going to be and just at the way he said his name. The weight he put on each syllable like they were lost lovers, especially as he technically mispronounced it. He wondered who he was. The man's face familiar, but he was unable to put a name to it. He supposed he didn't need to, though. One of them was probably going to be a corpse before this was over, after all, and between a knife and a gun? It was probably going to be his own if he didn't do something quick.
"You could just turn around and leave. It's unnecessary to kill me since— I'm assuming— we both wanted him dead. Disposal will be easy enough. Clean enough." He suggested it, but really he doubted he was going to take the offer. If he was going to leave, he wouldn't have threatened him like that. This wasn't going to work. A different approach then. "If you shoot and miss, you'll hit the glass and it will break." His voice suddenly sounded unfamiliar to his own ears and he wasn't actually completely sure it was his own, "You'll drown us both." The glass may have been able to withstand a head being slammed into it, but a bullet was a completely different story. It wasn't built after the Imum conflict after all. Potential gunfights weren't taken into account when they built this particular residential complex. One shot through the glass and the pressure from the water outside would take care of the rest. It would crumble and water would wash them away. Slam them into the floor and walls, fill their lungs, and pull them back into its black depths.
Ah, just fuck it. He knew how this was going to go down and like hell was he going to let it be easy.
Ten feet of space between them and Mercer still probably thought him unarmed. His only advantage, his only opportunity as Mercer responded to his offers. In a single motion he threw himself forward and drew his knife. His ankles and feet screamed in protest as he ran at Mercer and it was nothing short of a miracle he didn't lose his balance or roll an ankle considering he was wearing heels. They clacked loud and hard against the floor and somewhere in his mind he decided that these were going to be his new favourites if they survived the night. A guy could always use a good sturdy pair of heels that could survive a fight for your life.
He slammed himself into his to-be attacker and dug the knife in to the hilt. Oh, the feeling of a knife sliding into flesh was such a pleasant one. For the smallest of moments he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the way Mercer shuddered around the knife. Only for the shortest moment, the quickest heartbeat and then he wrenched it out and dug in it again. He pushed himself hard against Mercer, tried to throw him off balance as he twisted the knife in his abdomen, trying to angle it up into his ribcage. Hit something vital like a lung or his stomach and he'd be sure to at least take him to hell with him. This angle was bad, though. He had just a second before Mercer reacted.
"I worked so hard to get this far." He snarled. He pulled the knife out and pulled it to the side and spun it around, changing his grip. Had to be fast, had to be first, because his brains could be splattered soon. He aimed for his neck, eyes wide with adrenaline, heart pounding harder and harder in his chest. He could feel the beat in his throat, in the palms of hands. It beat around the knife. "I'm not done yet."
[attr="class","postbody"]Taishu quite liked Irisa. Before the war, he'd been determined to work hard enough to buy himself a nice place below the water. He'd quite like a place like this. So spacious and open, glass walls from ceiling to floor giving such a beautiful view of the sea, black now in the dark of night, but still he loved to look into the depths. He was there for a reason, though, and it wasn't to gawk at the beauty of it all. "So about the information you had." A man stepped up to him, "About the Republic." Taishu turned and smiled sweet.
"Oh, don't jump straight to the point like that, my dear." Sing song and as gentle as his face, "It's so unattractive." He pronounced the syllables clearly and crisp as he eyed the man. His name was Alexis Finch. He was a Parallax executive known for his low view of pokemon. Slaves for labor, creatures too far below him to consider even caring about. He lobbied hard against the protection of Pokemon habitats. A waste of valuable space, he called them. Imagine how many houses and businesses they could put up there. Of course, in public he was kind enough to pokemon. Kind enough that the general public forgave him, defended him, gave him the benefit of the doubt. "He's just looking out for us! He wants everyone to fit in the city they're planning! He wants everyone to be safe!" But oh, Tai wondered what they would say if they knew that in private, his pokemon tended to meet the sharp toe of his boot. He never kept anything large or anything that could effectively fight back for reason of that nasty habit he took so much pleasure in. How many Ratatas had he had now? All named Ben, almost no one knew the six other bens hadn't survived his abuse. He liked to pick on the weak.
Taishu stretched a hand out, ran the back of gloved fingertips from Mr. Finch nose to his ear before he pushed his fingers into his hair. It was long and loose and Mr. Finch leaned into his touch, a thin smile on his lips. "The Information, darling." Mr. Finch insisted still, humming pleasantly, eyeing him two different intentions.
"Just wait—" And he stepped forward, lips almost touching. At such a small distance, he could feel memories at the very edge of his mind like dreams he knew he had but couldn't actually remember. He said each word slowly, sensually, pulling him down deeper and deeper: "I'm almost done." Sickly sweet smile dropped to cold disinterest as his grabbed tight a fistful of Mr. Finch's hair and slammed his head into the glass. It shook at the impact, but it remained firm. As expected, the Irisian underwater was built impeccably. He really did want to live in a place like this. One day, he would. He could already see how he would decorate— but oh, Mr. Finch at his feet groaned and broke his daydream. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and nudged Mr. Finch's head with the tip of his heel. "Almost done." He sang, as he got down on his knees, straddling dear Mr. Finch. He adjust his gloves, made sure they were on good and snug, before he raised a fist and drove it home in Mr. Finch's face. His knuckles bloomed pain, but he brought his fist back and down again and again and again. The disgusting crunch of bone and cartilage, the squelch of blood and soft tissue, it filled the silence in a way that made Tai felt like this moment was all there was in the world. Nothing else existed but this exact moment and these exact actions. He was in his own piece of heaven for a moment, mangling an already dead man, but it was broken by the loud click of the deadbolt being slid back and then the softer click on the lock. The creak of the door and for a moment, all Taishu could do was stare wide eyed and frozen, hand lingering in the air. His knuckles throbbed and he was distinctly aware of that now and how warmth suddenly surged through them. He was aware now of their weight in his body, how exhausting it was to beat someone to death. Should've just slit his throat. That's what he brought the damn knife for.
[attr="class","postbody"]Taishu stretched, felt the bones in his back crack and pop, the muscles tense, spasm, then relax. He really ought to not spend so much time hunched over his desk like he did, but he was always so easily absorbed in his work. There was just so much data to go through. So many troublesome people and more seemed to crop up everyday. He could only do so much at a time before people started to connect the dots. Couldn't have that, he wasn't done yet. There was still so much work to do. Bloodied hands would only get bloodier, but it was okay, but it was for the good of Lyeant. It was to help ensure the cause. The Republic's cause. One day, they would find out he was the one cleaning up their ranks, but oh, he imagined they would be anything but grateful. He had so much work to do before they inevitably found out. So much cleaning to do, always one mess after another. At least it was easy enough to get to those who smeared their good, good name. It was oh so much harder to get to those from other organizations.
He stood up from his desk, Nihai rattling wearily from his bed in the corner. "Do you want to come with?" He spoke quietly as if to not disturb anyone else, although they were the only ones in the abandoned gym, "It's cold outside, so wear your sweater." Nihai quickly pulled his sweater on, pink with a yellow star patch sewn onto the front, and hopped over to Tai. He snatched up his hand and rattled. Taishu just smiled and threw his own jacket on.
The cold air bit at his nose and his throat, made his eyes burn and water, but the rest of him was cozy and warm underneath the layers. Nihai kicked at the thin layer of snow with his boots, rattling happily. They walked along for a while and while they had no clear destination in their heads, they wandered towards one of the most recently reconstructed areas. They stopped abruptly, though, as a shredded and filthy doll tumbled their way. His heart leapt into his throat at the sudden movement, fight or flight kicking in sudden and hard, but nothing followed the doll. After several moments of still silence, Nihai picked up the doll, brushed some of the dirt off, and adjusted the clothes. He held it tightly to his chest and held tighter onto Taishu's hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, they walked on, the silence suddenly heavy on them, like it might push them to their knees. Eyes strained against the oppressive dark, seeking to make out a shape, whether human or pokemon or animal. Something to blame for the sudden movement that had his heart thudding in his chest. In the distance, he began to make something out, something out of place, but a misstep alerted them to their presence and they whirled around. Definitely a person, then. Their voice jumped them from one extreme to the other: Oppressive silence to deafening noise. It didn't feel possible to be so loud in such silence. The noise all just felt wrong. His own voice, somehow now unfamiliar to his ears now used to the silence, was so much quieter.
"To blame?" In the dark, he furrowed his brows, "For the destruction? As with everywhere: Imum. For the reconstruction? Would you rather I leave the city to rot?" Beside him, Nihai rattled softly, warily. "Was this your home? It's rather late at night to visit, don't you think?" He paused, briefly weighed his options, and decided that staying out here just wasn't a very good one. "It's cold and late. The old gym has working heat." He said, an offer in there somewhere.
