[Maxie isn't easily fazed anymore; the possession had ensured that. Steel yourself against it and maybe it won't steal you. Terrible, terrible wordplay. But in the end it works. Keep yourself closed off and nothing else gets in, and avoid the quiet spots where your mind goes blank. Good advice on good days
( ... )
[It's a good idea to be wary, Maxie. Under these circumstances, you can never know if Red's human part is in control or not. He stays still for a while.
Minutes pass. Red moves - Not much, some shuddering and twitching - and then he uses his voice. The sound is nothing more than a low moan. He's waking up.
Eventually, his eyes open and he looks around the clearing, failing to notice the man standing there. He's too preoccupied with the bodies around him - evidence of his crime. He lets out a small, choked noise, some mix of a sob, a horrified gasp, and a pained moan.]
[Maxie knows how it goes - when a person comes to surrounded by bodies and wreckage and god only knows what else...it's best to give them some space. Let them figure out what's going on. See if they want to get aggression out. It took him days to get Groudon's influence out of his system enough to function without wanting to rip throats out.
So even if he doesn't know what happened here, he has some idea of how it goes.
That noise, however, is a vaguely promising one. Non-aggressive. Remorseful. The implications are terrible, but. Technicalities.]
You. Boy.
[His voice is calm when he speaks - oddly so, as things have been going nowadays, but this one doesn't need to know that. There's an authoritative edge to it, but more the sort that might come from someone that knows what they're doing rather than the sort that tries to assert dominance. More to get his attention than anything, really.]
[Red's face snaps to look at Maxie. The look in his face is wild, full of guilt, manic grief, utter terror, and self-loathing. The terror was already there, before he saw Maxie.
As the face registers in Red's head, he realizes it looks vaguely familiar - probably someone who used to exist in his world. Someone he killed. This revelation will bring a renewed feeling of guilt, and provoke another sob-like guilty pain noise.
Give him a moment to get through his guilt trip, and you have his attention.]
[He can be a perfectly patient person; he'll take that moment to both study this individual and figure out what, exactly, he should work on establishing first.
Well. There's no point in continuing to try to get information from someone unable to give it, for one thing. Might as well start there.]
Are you capable of talking?
[His tone is perhaps a bit sharper than he intended, and he's aware of it; at the same time, the sheer amount of carnage has him on edge.]
Believe it or not, I understand if you don't want to after...whatever this was. I just want to know if you can.
... Yes. [His voice is shaky and upset, but it's not shaky the same way his body is right now. It's always shaky and scared. It's just moreso right now because of what he's just done. He's shaking, as if in pain, but he seems more scared and depressed than anything.
He's a murderer. There's no way to justify his actions. He has no way to atone. And he knows it.]
[As it stands, the kid's hitting him strangely. Not because he can empathize, exactly. The experiences are completely different; incomparable, really. But at the same time, he's acting like there's been a bad disconnect. It's familiar, and Maxie isn't sure that he likes it.
Information. Focus on the information...]
How...aware were you, when this happened?
[Judging by the reaction, not very. But he'll see.]
[Gameverse Reds never talk much, but this one is shakier than most. He's more insane than the rest. By now, after eight years of Ghost's influence, it's pretty obvious that he's the victim of an ongoing trauma.]
[And that gets a bit of a freeze out of him. Too familiar. He knows.
He hesitates for a moment, drawing his hand back to settle at his hip, fingertips kneading the fabric of his clothing; he doesn't have that long coat of his on at the moment, but the shirt more than suffices.]
You're injured; I'm going to approach you. Just so you stop bleeding everywhere. Is this fine?
[Yes, well. At the very least there was a confirmation before...whatever just happened to grip the guy for about the tenth time in the span of five minutes.
The disconnect isn't going well. That much is obvious; Maxie keeps his approach slow. Audible. Doesn't need to startle him, especially given that Maxie has never been opposed to getting on the ground along with someone if the situation calls for it. He isn't about to invade space just yet; just getting a closer look at whatever the hell happened here.
The amount of death surrounding them is impressive; at the same time, that deep injury that's been sustained doesn't look like anything caused by any of the dead things.]
That...
[He'll just be gesturing toward that particular wound, if you don't mind, Red.]
Nothing quite like finding out that injury is deeper than he had suspected; it's not exactly easy for him to tell, as he's never been one for treating injuries. He's usually the one inflicting them, after all.
Regardless, there are some things he knows, because just about everyone knows them. Tearing strips of fabric off the shirt would be easiest, and so he does so; pressure stops bleeding, doesn't it? That's. Usually what's recommended.]
Listen, don't think about the circumstances, just the question - tell me what caused the rest.
[And the talking is really just to divert attention from the really unceremonious application of pressure to that injury. Soak up some of the blood, at least. Possibly stave off the flow a bit. He really doesn't care if it gets on his hands.
...his bedside manner could use some work. He's not even sure why he's bothering, though the only indication is a vaguely agitated wavering of his tone.]
You sound like you were possessed - I have to question what by.
[Sharp intake of breath, because that hurts, man. The only reason he's not screamin in pain is because he decided long ago that any pain he experienced - he deserved.
... That question. The one he's been answering for years. Trying to answer for years. He's never been quite sure, but he knows... He knows what possesses him. He just doesn't know quite what it is.]
... Ghost. Possessed by Ghost. [There's a tone of utter defeat in his voice, he can never fight off the possession anymore. His mind has been put through too much strain. All he can do is hope he's nowhere near anyone or anything alive when it happens, and try to stave off the inevitable. His face is currently utterly depressed.]
[Maxie remains silent for a long moment after that; he's sure that what he's doing hurts like a bitch, but he doesn't pull away. Primarily because he doesn't know what else to do.
It doesn't help that goddamn it, he really doesn't understand why he's bothering. He's left people bleeding to death before; it's not exactly like it's a mark on his conscience - that implies he has a conscience left to mark up.]
I've felt it myself, you know. Not unconscious, but unable to wake up; unable to move, but moving just the same. You can just watch from behind your eyes. Knowing what your body is doing, what you're doing. Only you might as well not exist.
[He laughs a bit, though the sound is quiet, joyless.]
[He looks at you with a terrible look. His worst fear is that someone else is going through what he is. Although it sounds like what happens to him is a little different.]
... All dark. Just me... The fear. ...Then the pain. Knowing what it means, and the sounds, those sounds... Those awful sounds...
[He's shaking again. He never saw what happened during his battle with that girl, but his mind is trying to reconstruct the scene. How he laughed as each of his Pokemon were K.O.'ed in turn, calling out Ghost.... The pain like a white-hot claw was ripping his heart out each time Curse was used... The screams of the Pokemon. The girl's tears. That sudden loudness that shattered the air, and his own voice screaming... Then to the woods. The Pokemon here.
Red looks around at the bodies. Then at his hands. Back to guilt-tripping.]
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Minutes pass. Red moves - Not much, some shuddering and twitching - and then he uses his voice. The sound is nothing more than a low moan. He's waking up.
Eventually, his eyes open and he looks around the clearing, failing to notice the man standing there. He's too preoccupied with the bodies around him - evidence of his crime. He lets out a small, choked noise, some mix of a sob, a horrified gasp, and a pained moan.]
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So even if he doesn't know what happened here, he has some idea of how it goes.
That noise, however, is a vaguely promising one. Non-aggressive. Remorseful. The implications are terrible, but. Technicalities.]
You. Boy.
[His voice is calm when he speaks - oddly so, as things have been going nowadays, but this one doesn't need to know that. There's an authoritative edge to it, but more the sort that might come from someone that knows what they're doing rather than the sort that tries to assert dominance. More to get his attention than anything, really.]
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As the face registers in Red's head, he realizes it looks vaguely familiar - probably someone who used to exist in his world. Someone he killed. This revelation will bring a renewed feeling of guilt, and provoke another sob-like guilty pain noise.
Give him a moment to get through his guilt trip, and you have his attention.]
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Well. There's no point in continuing to try to get information from someone unable to give it, for one thing. Might as well start there.]
Are you capable of talking?
[His tone is perhaps a bit sharper than he intended, and he's aware of it; at the same time, the sheer amount of carnage has him on edge.]
Believe it or not, I understand if you don't want to after...whatever this was. I just want to know if you can.
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...
... Yes. [His voice is shaky and upset, but it's not shaky the same way his body is right now. It's always shaky and scared. It's just moreso right now because of what he's just done. He's shaking, as if in pain, but he seems more scared and depressed than anything.
He's a murderer. There's no way to justify his actions. He has no way to atone. And he knows it.]
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Good.
[As it stands, the kid's hitting him strangely. Not because he can empathize, exactly. The experiences are completely different; incomparable, really. But at the same time, he's acting like there's been a bad disconnect. It's familiar, and Maxie isn't sure that he likes it.
Information. Focus on the information...]
How...aware were you, when this happened?
[Judging by the reaction, not very. But he'll see.]
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... Slightly. ... No control.
[Gameverse Reds never talk much, but this one is shakier than most. He's more insane than the rest. By now, after eight years of Ghost's influence, it's pretty obvious that he's the victim of an ongoing trauma.]
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He hesitates for a moment, drawing his hand back to settle at his hip, fingertips kneading the fabric of his clothing; he doesn't have that long coat of his on at the moment, but the shirt more than suffices.]
You're injured; I'm going to approach you. Just so you stop bleeding everywhere. Is this fine?
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... So he is. What happened to him, again?
... That's right. That girl shot him after...
He clenches his teeth and shuts his eyes in what is obviously his most torturous guilt-trip yet. Which he sadly does not have a better icon for.]
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The disconnect isn't going well. That much is obvious; Maxie keeps his approach slow. Audible. Doesn't need to startle him, especially given that Maxie has never been opposed to getting on the ground along with someone if the situation calls for it. He isn't about to invade space just yet; just getting a closer look at whatever the hell happened here.
The amount of death surrounding them is impressive; at the same time, that deep injury that's been sustained doesn't look like anything caused by any of the dead things.]
That...
[He'll just be gesturing toward that particular wound, if you don't mind, Red.]
It doesn't look natural. What did it?
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That girl. He Golbat, Ninetails, Venusaur...!! Back to guilt-tripping for a moment...
Oh yeah, being questioned. What did she use again...? So lightheaded, it's hard to remember... Oh yeah.]
... Gun.
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Nothing quite like finding out that injury is deeper than he had suspected; it's not exactly easy for him to tell, as he's never been one for treating injuries. He's usually the one inflicting them, after all.
Regardless, there are some things he knows, because just about everyone knows them. Tearing strips of fabric off the shirt would be easiest, and so he does so; pressure stops bleeding, doesn't it? That's. Usually what's recommended.]
Listen, don't think about the circumstances, just the question - tell me what caused the rest.
[And the talking is really just to divert attention from the really unceremonious application of pressure to that injury. Soak up some of the blood, at least. Possibly stave off the flow a bit. He really doesn't care if it gets on his hands.
...his bedside manner could use some work. He's not even sure why he's bothering, though the only indication is a vaguely agitated wavering of his tone.]
You sound like you were possessed - I have to question what by.
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... That question. The one he's been answering for years. Trying to answer for years. He's never been quite sure, but he knows... He knows what possesses him. He just doesn't know quite what it is.]
... Ghost. Possessed by Ghost. [There's a tone of utter defeat in his voice, he can never fight off the possession anymore. His mind has been put through too much strain. All he can do is hope he's nowhere near anyone or anything alive when it happens, and try to stave off the inevitable. His face is currently utterly depressed.]
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[Maxie remains silent for a long moment after that; he's sure that what he's doing hurts like a bitch, but he doesn't pull away. Primarily because he doesn't know what else to do.
It doesn't help that goddamn it, he really doesn't understand why he's bothering. He's left people bleeding to death before; it's not exactly like it's a mark on his conscience - that implies he has a conscience left to mark up.]
I've felt it myself, you know. Not unconscious, but unable to wake up; unable to move, but moving just the same. You can just watch from behind your eyes. Knowing what your body is doing, what you're doing. Only you might as well not exist.
[He laughs a bit, though the sound is quiet, joyless.]
Hideous, isn't it?
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... All dark. Just me... The fear. ...Then the pain. Knowing what it means, and the sounds, those sounds... Those awful sounds...
[He's shaking again. He never saw what happened during his battle with that girl, but his mind is trying to reconstruct the scene. How he laughed as each of his Pokemon were K.O.'ed in turn, calling out Ghost.... The pain like a white-hot claw was ripping his heart out each time Curse was used... The screams of the Pokemon. The girl's tears. That sudden loudness that shattered the air, and his own voice screaming... Then to the woods. The Pokemon here.
Red looks around at the bodies. Then at his hands. Back to guilt-tripping.]
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