lieutenantantichrist | [17] [Text/Action for Mahogany] - "Whenever You Get Involved, Someone Gets Hurt."

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[17] [Text/Action for Mahogany] - "Whenever You Get Involved, Someone Gets Hurt."

[ACTION]

[In a low-rent corner of Mahogany, there's a real gym. No mazes, no boss trying to fight you in exchange for something they call a badge, no lackeys, just weight machines and a floor covered with rubber mats, the way it should be. Open twenty-four hours, and this late there's no human in this room but Blake. He's in a sweatsuit, gray in contrast to the brown of the Hitmonlee holding pads for him in its upraised paws. The only sound is his harsh breaths and the thump of his fists on the canvas. His shoulders are hunched like a boxer's. His eyes look straight ahead. Judging from the sweat darkening the back of his shirt, he's been here a while.

On the other side of the room, a Snubbull is sitting on the floor, looking at a Gear that's resting on the mats. A Musharna floats beside her. Fifteen minutes of frustration proved that claws are no good for texting with, but she wants to talk to someone. She really wants to.

She snubs softly, so as not to make her trainer angry. The Musharna's eyes show no reaction, but the buttons on the Gear depress. The text that Steve watches appear seems to be accurate, more or less. The transcription might come strange through the dreaming creature. It's close enough for what she needs.]

[TEXT]

Hello lo low hello

Please talk to me.
I want to talk.
I will tell you my favorite story.
He told it to me when I couldn't sleep. His eyes were closed for some of it but I shook his knee and got to hear the end. Without the end it isn't a story.

Once
upon a time there was a girl. She was poor and alone because her parents were dead, and child services didn't exist then, so she had to go to live with her wicked stepmother and do work for her. Hard work, the kind that nearly killed her, but in time she got used to it.

Then one day she heard the prince was giving a big ball. She asked to go, but her stepmother wouldn't let her. So she tried to run off and get a ride to the castle from a knight, but her wicked stepmother had tailled her, and she found her and dragged her off the horse. While she was going, the wicked stepmother threw the knight a gold coin. He held onto it, and he kept looking at it all the time. He kept thinking about the girl.
He wanted to help her, but he couldn't.

The knight went to the ball, and he was going to kill the prince, but there were too many guards around watching him, so he ran away.

Then the knight went to find the girl and save her. The wicked stepmother grazed him in the neck with an evil spell, but he killed her and all the other guys too, even though he got hurt bad. At first the girl was scared, but then she was free and she was okay. She got to go back home to her real parents. The knight was a hero. All the papers said so.

And everyone lived happily ever after.

..........
..........
..........

Tell me your favorite story.
Voice or video if you can.
The words alone are lonely.

Tell me please.

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[Since he is talking into the 'Gear, you'd think that Ocelot would eventually figure that the trainer would notice, but he's actually enjoying the conversation for some unknown reason.]

No, I don't think so.

[Because he doesn't consider himself a bad person, not exactly. Sometimes people have to do bad things. It was his job.]

Maybe it depends on the person.

[Blake's used to being able to cow people pretty well. It's not working now when he needs it to, and that's one more twist to the knot in his gut.

His hands drop to his sides as Heather plonks down.

His voice is low, with a cold edge. There's something not entirely there in his eyes.]

I'm not in the mood to humor any teenage horseshit. I said get out.

[From the other side of the room, Steve makes her way over, the Musharna floating behind her as if on a chance breeze. When Blake's eyes fall on her, she hesitates and her steps falter. Then her mouth tightens stubbornly. She comes over, crosses her arms, and sits down beside Heather.

Blake looks down at the two of them.

He turns away, hunches his shoulders, and throws a punch at the pads still held up by the Hitmonlee. Then another. Soon he's back in a rhythm, though one slowed by his sore, heavy arms.]

Fine. Sit there all fucking night. I don't give a damn.

[That was a while before Blake was born. He grew up hearing a lot about it, though.

He sees the look cross the kid's face. Looks like he gets this is something serious.]

It was my call. I gave the order.

Another me did, and in his place, I would've done the same thing.

...It sounds like you didn't have a choice.

[But then, what does he know? He wasn't there? Still, doesn't that just mean that he's in no place to judge?]

[That makes her laugh.]

They're like the size of adults when they're big! They grow kind of like people do, except they have these tiny tails instead of legs. And Ariel, the Little Mermaid... Well. Huh.

[Pausing for a moment to think of this.] She's around my age, come to think of it! Maybe a little older?

Scumbags always say that. They tell you in the car all the time. "I didn't have a choice." No, asshole, there were plenty of things you could've done besides stab your wife seventeen times. You had options. Nobody had a goddamn gun to your head.

[His eyes lower.]

One of us did it and the other didn't. So there must have been a choice.

[Behind him, Steve is slowly creeping closer.]

[Steve's attention is all on the young man on the screen, leaving her none for the shadow moving steadily closer behind her.

She's absorbed in asking something she hasn't been able to ask anyone else.]

Are you happy here?

Yeah... [Steve's face falls, and she looks troubled. Then she looks up with a stubborn cast to her eyes, as though the boy had argued.] He's not bad. He isn't.

[Then she looks thoughtful.]

Are you a Dragon-type trainer? You must be brave. They're big. I'm not scared of them, though. Lots of big things that growl aren't really so scary.

Usually.

[That makes him smile. It's not entirely a warm smile, because Ocelot doesn't do that, but it's not nasty by any means.]

I think so. It's nice here.

...

[He's right. The fact that Blake's path diverged from another reality is proof of that. So what can he even say? At first, Riku casts a glance off at the wall, his face eerily blank.]

...But you said it yourself. You weren't the one who fired the shot. That was a different you.

[Steve winces.] Oh no. That's a terrible way for it to end-

[~~Shortest, most depressing anime series ever~~ But fortunately, Yusuke keeps going.

And it's a good thing he does, because he really does have talent for it. His face is dynamic and animated, and- voices. He does voices.

Yusuke, you have won an ally in this little dog for life.]

I didn't know humans could be Ghost types too!

[She sighs out in relief.] It's good that the kid was okay. It would be awful if the guy couldn't even help.

But what's a Grim Reaper?

My trainer talks about people dying sometimes...it never sounded like something you could come back from, like fainting.

Sometimes he talks about Hell, too. He says it's not real, but it's where bad guys go. But this guy died trying to save a kid. That makes him a good guy.

[She looks concerned when he talks about the guy thinking no one cared that he was gone. Her arms gesture fiercely.]

Of course people would miss him! There's always people who care, even about people who are angry and cause trouble and get into fights a lot! Even if they've done things wrong, that doesn't mean they should go away forever!

[Her snubs have raised in volume by the end. When she stops, she scrubs her paw across her eyes, and takes a deep breath to pull herself together.]

What's the Spirit World?

_{[Heather's been cowed by people far crueler than Blake, and his surly cop bluster pales in comparison. So she props her chin on her fist and stares up at him dully.]}

You know I'm not a teenager.

But thanks, yeah, I think I'll stick around.

_{[She reaches out an arm to lay a hand between Steve's ears, reassuringly. She's got you, girl.]}

[Blake mutters at the floor] No fucking kidding.

[He was lucky the kid never did much besides burst into tears or kick him in the shins. Never even sent one of his animals to try to kill him.

Blake shakes his head hard. He doesn't understand any of this multiple world shit, can't begin to untangle what it means, but what he knows for sure is the guilt is there, latched to his neck like a leech.] He's me. I'd've done the same thing.

Hell, in two different worlds, before that, we both must have been beating the shit out of him at the same exact time.

Wow! I've never seen one before. Only people with legs.

[Steve rests her face on her paws, thinking of people with Dewgong tails.]

She can't be so little, then. She must be special, if there's a story about her.

What's the difference? Same guy, just a copy. Same mistake I would have made, if I had the chance.

[The eerie blankness on Riku's face is reflected on Blake's.]

Hey. You ever met a kid here named Shaun Mars?

[Steve leans against her, more relieved than she can say. It's good to have an ally. She can't be scared when Heather's here.

Blake turns away and ignores them both.

He tries to fall back into the mindless rhythm of rote violence. One hit, and then another, and another. But it's not the same. He can only keep it up for about five minutes before he stops to growl at Heather.]

Are you still here?

I don't think I've met him, but I might've seen him around on the network.

[Does this have to do with him? Riku considers asking, but ultimately decides to keep his mouth shut and let Blake speak for himself. It's still too soon to judge.]

[If you tell him this, it's not something you get to take back. This kid you've known since you landed here? He'll hate you.

Well, says another voice, cool and reasonable, shouldn't he?

Blake hunches his shoulders and throws one more punch.]

I'm the one who killed his dad.

Yeah, but there's a big difference between beating a guy up and killing him. I mean sure, in both cases it was unwarranted and it'll probably get you a lawsuit. But unlike the hypothetical other guy, you at least still have the opportunity to apologize.

[Which admittedly might not help much with the guilt, but it probably can't make it worse either.]

_{[If anyone knows how scary it is to be alone when someone a hell of a lot bigger than you is mad... it's probably Heather. Those memories from her first life aren't buried in her subconscious anymore, after all.]

[But she's bigger than she was back then, and it takes a lot more to scare her, too.]

[So she stays.]

[And looks up at Blake dryly when he addresses her again.]}

Nope, I'm just a figment of your imagination.

I think so too. But it's my home. I've never been anywhere else. Are other places nice?

My trainer talks about The Real World a lot. It sounds dangerous.

[Blake's look down at her is steady and cold.]

What do you want?

One of two things.

_{[She holds up two fingers to demonstrate her point. You know, just in case it isn't clear.]}

One, we can talk about your feelings and get all our kum-ba-yahs out in the open. Maybe go for a drink afterwards.

Or two, if you'd rather set yourself on fire than cry it out to a little girl, which I suspect is the case, we punch it out instead. And really, I don't blame you for the second one seeming like a better option.

_{[Lowering her hand again, she reaches for the bag next to her and digs around in it-- removing a literal pair of punching gloves. She holds them up and waggles them enticingly.]}

I don't have any feelings to talk about.

[But she doesn't sound like she's going to give up anytime soon.

And she brought her own damn boxing gloves.

Blake looks at them in disbelief, then back up to her face.] You gotta be kidding me.

Kid, even if you weren't a little girl, I got fifty pounds and half a foot on you, easy.

I'm not hitting you, no matter how much of a pain in my ass you are.

He could've made some noise, after he was cleared. Pressed charges. But he never did. Hell, I never saw him in person or said a word to him, afterwards.

[Blake had been all prepared to defend himself, and then the fight never came.]

He's not fuckin' hypothetical. The kid's dad is dead for real. The kid told me himself.

Whatever me it's because of, that doesn't change the fact that it's because of me.

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[17] [Text/Action for Mahogany] - "Whenever You Get Involved, Someone Gets Hurt."

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