[PKMN] SPACE CASE!

[skinstealer]

LAST TIME...on SPACE CASE!

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EPISODE 20: Mt. Moon Caverns (Pt 2)

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The room is so cold.



You keep telling them to turn the lights off.

They insist that being in the dark would be worse for you right now.




Something about your psyche.
It's always your psyche.



You try to tell them that the light is so much worse than the dark, the buzz of the fluorescent bulbs a reminder of where you are, and that you aren't allowed to leave.

You accidentally kicked your blanket off during a nightmare, and the restraint around your left wrist hurts from the attempt to reach it.
They didn't want you yanking out the IV again.



Pretty sure that's just doctor code for "stop trying to leave the building."


In your defense, you only started actual escape attempts after they refused to listen to your first complaints.



Then you started throwing things.



And started biting people.



They really didn't like the biting thing. 



Your new body is very good at making the doctors nauseous, and you had even knocked someone out once when you refused to break your grip.





Earning new words for your chart every day.

Violent.
Hostile.
Maladjusted.





The doctor comes in again, getting out his kit of syringes.


Blood draw day. They say it's one of the best ways to study what's wrong with you.




Psychotic.
Animalistic.




You've seen so many new and exciting ways to describe a hospital patient.




Regressed.
Traumatized.
Schizophrenic.

Brain damaged.
Unfit for society.




You lunge for the doctor as soon as he gets close, only for him to psychically force you back down into a vulnerable state.

????: ....Batterie, please.
????: We can't-
BATTERIE: I DON'T WANT THIS!
????: You do if you want to get better-


 

He gets the needle in, holding you with maximum strength to keep you from writhing.

BATTERIE: THIS ISN'T MAKING ME BETTER!
????: You're the patient, We know what's-
BATTERIE: JUST LET ME GO HOME!

 

Tears roll down your cheeks, sobbing as can barely choke the words out.



He stares at you, no love to it.



At first, he may have cared about helping you.
It's been two months now and you're pretty sure he'd celebrate if you died.

BATTERIE: W...When do I get to see Fern again....
????: ....
????: Your case is far more severe than your friend's.
????: Our team worries that exposure to you in your current state could retraumatize her, especially with your...volatility.
????: It would be best if we continued studying you-

 

His eyes are just as cold as the room you've come to know as your cell.

????: -to ensure she doesn't backslide.
????: Can we count on your cooperation, Batterie?




 

You don't




remember




what you said.

EERIE: STRETCH YOU BETTER GET UP RIGHT THE FUCK NOW OR SO HELP ME GOD


 

You launch yourself up, only to land on all fours with your teeth bared-



animalistic violent volatile



-Minerva clutching Filigree to her chest as Frond and Eerie scramble to gather up medical supplies.

STRETCH: WH-
FROND: OSTEO AMBUSH, SWEETPEA AND RAPPEL-
EERIE: JUST PROTECT MINNIE AND FILI!
STRETCH: RIGHT!

 

 

You are now Rappel.

Your shoulder sure does hurt like a mother, but you do NOT have time for that!
Even closing your eyes for an hour between watch duty shifts has you up and at 'em.


...would have been nice to get more than four hours of rest total before this marowak showed up, but hey.



Survivors can't be choosers, and you're really good at refusing to die.


Sweetpea's body blocking the alcove, keeping the marowak from coming inside as you take a fighting stance.
Shoving them away from the entrance had taken a single brief blast of shade, but nothing that'd actually do any damage-


no, you're going to have to get up close and personal for that.



You hit the ground running, going for a shade-encased leg sweep


 

only for the marowak to dodge, getting a bone staff smashed against the back of your shell.



Unpleasant!



They'd forgone the standard Kantonian club for something more inspired by their Alolan kin, tipped with a smaller skull encasing a will o'wisp on the end.

Nasty business-



 

-especially when it's pressed against your good shoulder, clamping down and burning straight through your jacket and onto your skin like a branding iron.



You clamp your beak shut, fully aware that screaming would freak out the rest of the party.


You have to set an example here-

panic can come later-!



The wings come out with more difficulty than you'd like, fizzling at the edges and not nearly as large as yesterday.

You've used too much shade, and the kanga siphoning off life force yesterday was a damning slip-up without exposure to moonlight.



The marowak is unphased, making a disgusted noise as they speak in a layered, distorted voice.

MAROWAK: Sloppy...
MAROWAK: No finesse at all.

 

The staff clamps down harder, really getting at your exposed skin now.

MAROWAK: Did they make you wrong?

 

Your eyes narrow.



A nerve hit.

RAPPEL: Made me?

 

Your wings spread.

RAPPEL: What matters-

 

They flap hard, shifting into clawed hands to throw the marowak off of you.

RAPPEL: Is what I make of me!



 

 

Their staff's teeth dig into your skin as they're wrenched away, Sweetpea making a concerned croak as you stagger.


It hurts, hurts bad.


You only have a split second to gauge this.

This



is not ideal!



And you cannot die here.

 

RAPPEL: SWEETPEA, GONNA NEED A BAIL OUT-
MAROWAK: HAH, like that'll-




 

 

You are now Sweetpea.


You don't think you could describe what happens as a "decision."


No, it was more like pure instinct as you rush forward, teeth gritted as you made full body contact with the marowak.



You can see their furious eyes.



oh



god.

MINERVA: YOU CAN DO IT!

 

You just have to remember what Ursa taught you.


Your power isn't-



xey should be locked up xey're a disgrace to this academy



-BAD, it isn't BAD, it is STRENGTH-






You've hesitated too long.

The marowak gets a solid swing in, aiming for a much harder, clamping bite- not that it does much of anything.
Even without proper flame-proof clothing, your skin tanks the staff's bite without even getting pierced.

In the moment you watch your capelet's fabric get scorched, you catch a glimpse of Rappel, her shade wings surrounding her like a desperate shock blanket.

Her usually-confident face is terrified.



You see red.


Bullies.



You hate bullies.


People who pick on the weak.



No-

People who subjugate others, who make them FEEL weak.



Ursa had always said it was one of your strongest traits.


 

You swing your leg, bringing your massive tree-tail around to give yourself full momentum as you send them flying with a sickening crunch.


You could have stopped there.

But you don't.



As soon as they hit the wall, you're on them, one more stomp for good measure as they desperately try one more futile bite.


You don't even feel it, their staff clattering to the side



as their hand



goes limp.




Things come back into view.


 

The marowak's skull is cracked and even shattered in places, exposing raw, bloody flesh where its fusion to the skin wasn't enough.




Tears start running down your cheeks, the shock sinking in all at once in a single, nauseating tidal wave.





You flinch as Rappel touches your shoulder, curling inward as you collapse to your knees.

RAPPEL: They're breathing-
SWEETPEA: i i-
SWEETPEA i could have-
RAPPEL: Now's not the time to sweat the large stuff, bud-
FROND: G-GUYS

 

You turn, eyes wide and shell-shocked.




A poliwrath is coming your way.



And he looks mad.





You can't move.





You can barely think.




You just hear the crunch.




Over, and over, that horrible bone crunch echoing through the cave tunnel.

EERIE: MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS OR-
MINERVA: FROND DON'T



 

 

He's so small.




Everyone is, to you.



But in this moment, watching the gloom rush in, firing off a swift star


only to get



full body gripped




 

between the poliwrath's hands



you are acutely reminded of how terrifyingly, terrifyingly small the world is around you.







People are screaming.

You probably are too, begging for the poliwrath to stop.



Frond says something


indistinguishable


 

before a streak of pink and blue blasts out of the alcove.





























You are now Stretch and you are going to kill this motherfucker you are going to KILL HIM PUT FROND THE FUCK DOWN RIGHT NOW












You can see every frame of motion, your eyes feeling sunken into their sockets as they refuse to blink.


There's a whirring in the back of your skull, revving up and overtaking the voices behind you with every ragged breath.


Pricks of blood form on your lip where your newly-grown teeth cut in.


The tunnel's lit in blue, arcs of energy richocheting off of the walls and ceiling.


Your pupils dilate as the rot spores hit you full force, in range to inhale them in deep.


The energy spikes pierce out of your palms, the poliwrath's eyes widening as you pull one back




and drive it directly into his head.


The pulse is enough to ripple underneath his skin, Frond immediately dropped to the ground.



It's not enough.



You bring your other hand back.


 

It will never be enough



It sinks in even deeper, your entire body on top of his in a feral pounce.



For what he did to Frond


 

Your claws dig in, forcing the spikes to remain in his body, pulse wracking through it in waves.




 

 

on that terrible, terrible night.

 

MINERVA: STRETCH!

 

Her voice cuts through, the world snapping back in a whiplash.

 

MINERVA: PLEASE-
MINERVA: STOP!!!

 

You look down at your hands.





They're soaked in blood, trembling.



Your energy spikes don't break the skin.
They don't have the physicality to do that,
or,
something,
it-




It sinks in.



They don't pierce.




Your new claws do.




You reel back, scrambling away from the unconscious-

god you hope he's unconscious oh god oh God-

body,



only to bump into Frond's arm.



Your head pounds as you see him there, just as limp-

-but thankfully breathing as you pull him close against your chest.


You feel stuck between


here


and then.



Flickering between the world where Sweetpea is sobbing apologies, Minerva and Eerie rushing to your side



and something forbidden, only experienced in pained fragments.


Like patches of memory coming through in the form of familiar sensations




like your bloodied skin on his


and the tears forming massive, floating globules on your cheeks.



....




It's terrifying.




Someone touches your shoulder, only to get a pulse repelling them violently away-



Eerie's face twisted into a panicked grimace.

 

EERIE: S-stretch, just-
EERIE: Hand him over-

 

You bare your teeth, fur standing on end.

 

EERIE: Stretch-

 

Her even tone is forced, panic clear in her eyes.

 

EERIE: You need to put Frond down now-

 

Why?
Why would-
She doesn't get it, he-



The gloom hacks up sap, making a sickly noise after being held so close to your violently pulsing body.

 

STRETCH: AH

 

You nearly drop him in shock, getting a grip only to relent and pass him over.


The rhyhorn takes Frond into her own arms far more gently than you'd expect of her, letting out a slow, strained exhale.

 

EERIE: I won't hurt him.
EERIE: Yeah? You see? He's good.

 

Her voice cracks.





...she's scared of you.

 

EERIE: Allll good.

 

You sit there, unable to speak.



To justify what you'd done-
to what extent, you don't even know
and you don't want to know you don't want to check you don't want confirmation that you




Familiar footsteps make their way over, Minerva tiptoeing so as not to scare you.


Your chest feels like it's going to crush like a tin can at the sight of her face, her own cheeks stained-




-but she isn't scared of you, not like Eerie.




she probably should be

 

STRETCH: Where-
MINERVA: Rappel has the others.
MINERVA: I-
MINERVA: I wanted to make sure you're okay-

 

You're on your knees with blood-soaked hands, claws and teeth that should not be there feeling like malicious, predatory growths-




and you break.




You cry,
not even trying to keep your voice down,
or to look composed at all.




Minerva immediately gets by your side, wrapping you up and making soft shushing noises as you can't get words out, just jumbled and desperate apologies, begging for forgiveness, to please not leave-




She rests her claws against your hair antennae, making more of those gentle, shushing hisses.

 

MINERVA: ....he's safe.
MINERVA: We're all safe.
MINERVA: ....
MINERVA: That's what you've wanted this whole time, hasn't it?

 

You sob.

 

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