ATONEMENT.
Offscreen event written by @tinkers-pokehub and @thatsuccessfulpokemontrainer Kura/Khione/Snake from @subzeroiceshard Beedrill/Fox from @a-nickits-den [A general warning: this post contains (written) graphic depictions of violence and injury such as electrocution and damage to the eyes. Please check the tags for other possible triggers.]
- All Beedrill could see was the bodies. The images of those cooked alive, left featureless seared into his mind, visible every time he blinked. Worse was the knowledge that she was among them, rendered into nothing more than smouldering flesh. Â It was so bright. Â It would stop as soon as the snake was dead. His reward for removing that stain.
Once Beedrill had reached the outside of the cave, he attempted to regain something resembling composure. He checked himself, modified glove on his right, a knife in his left, and one needle filled with pentobarbital placed in the pocket of his mareep wool lined jacket.  Kura needed to know exactly what was happening to him and why. He was going to become nothing. But before that. He needed to regret it.  It would stop. This was going to stop.  He would atone.  He would atone.  He would atone.  A command was spoken, and like clockwork, the only pokemon following him moved to lie on the ground. One last safety net, one that couldn’t save him. . . .
The smell that permeated the cave was unmistakable, anyone who had been present for tonight's festivities would recognize in an instant. It reeked of metallic rot and charred skin. Â A blue pair of eyes were faint against the darkness. Mocking him. Laughing at him.
“You killed her.”
Haggard breathing slowed to a crawl, both regaining their composure before they engaged, little else was said, little could be said. They're staying here for a single reason now. Thinking about it like that, one might conclude a twisted sense of mutual understanding. Â Beedrill heard the buzz of electricity humming from the glove as he watched, trying to make out a full figure against the darkness. It could only build. His other hand gripped a switchblade, thumb moving up and down the cold metal grooves.
Kura gestured to Cocytus to stand down, running a hand through its long white fur, streaks of blood and sweat mixing into it. He turned towards the cave entrance, lowering his stance, twirling a knife in his hands. Â The image of bright blue eyes goaded Beedrill to step further into the cage, to step forward into striking distance. What an awful game.
The air is tense, thick with that nauseating smell, hunters hunting each other. Each step was carefully placed in such a way as to conceal their movements, making a wrong move here would mean giving the upper hand to your enemy. Both of them needed absolute silence, not only to practice diligence but to succeed in it if they wanted to win.
That is why it's critical that Beedrill had already messed up by coming in last. By going in through that cave entrance, he had alerted Kura to his presence already, even if he already begun walking, Kura could still guess at where he was.
In comparison, Kura's location was an unknown. He could be close, preparing to strike, or he could be further away, setting up a trap for Beedrill, perhaps he was to his side, or behind him, or maybe Kura had snuck through the entrance already.  He was not going to win.  …  Beedrill's glove had a fatal flaw. While not always, and it could be concealed by his body, the glove faintly glowed with yellow light. Not enough to illuminate its surroundings, but enough to act as a walking target.
However, it earned a sense of hesitancy from Kura, given he hadn't attacked Beedrill yet. Something was wrong with that glove. Beedrill wouldn't have taken something so disastrous without a reason. . . .
Beedrill followed along the cave walls and paused. He held his breath, chest burning, listening to the sounds around him, waiting for the sound of footsteps - or the dragging of a cape across the ground. It's dreadfully quiet, he can hear his own heartbeat pound in his ears, surveying the room, his own breathing muffling other sounds, sweat beginning to form. Beedrill couldn't hear him. He couldn't see him. He held his breath.  He swung at the space behind him with more force than precision, an act of bitter frustration. He shouldn’t be scared.
Kura jumped away in an instant, narrowly avoiding Beedrill's glove, he hit the floor with a thump. Eyes narrowing in mild annoyance.
He ducked out of the way of Beedrill's next oncoming attack, a bright yellow flash grazing past his chest. Kura spun on his heels, striking a knife deep in between Beedrill's shoulder blades.
He ripped out the knife in a singular swift motion, stepping away from sight, melting away into shadows.
Beedrill's eyes darted, searching up and down, right to left, for where that snake disappeared to. He balled his hand in a fist, attacking the darkness in a violent fervor to find Khione.
Blood trickled down his back, soaking into his ash covered jacket. His heart raced faster, sweat dripping down his face. Beedrill's skin tensed up, hair standing up and becoming taut. Blood dripped in an almost rhythmic pattern. His chest heaved, agitation spiking an already hazy mind.
Beedrill needed to find Khione now. Find him before he finds you
A sweeping kick knocked Beedrill onto his back with a loud THUMP. Hitting his head against the cold stone floor, rapidly cooling blood splattering on the ground.
Khione stood up, rising from his reclined position. Two bright eyes etched themselves into Beedrill's mind, glinting with scornful laughter. They were so visible against the dark background of the cave system. It was all he could see.
Khione raised his leg again, preparing to crack Beedrill's skull.
His heart thumped. Tightening and constricting like a cheri berry ready to burst and split open. The sound roared in his ear, it was hard to focus on anything else. Beedrill's vision flickering in and out of focus. He only had a fraction of a second to react.
Blades meant for gripping ice tore at Beedrill's body, fresh lacerations digging into him.
" H-…Hah-…"
Beedrill held his arms over his head defensively. Trembling with the weight of the attack. Just a second later and it would've been his face being shredded by those serrated shoes.
The snake tilted his head, slightly miffed by the fact he hadn't hit his target.
The snake started kicking repeatedly, the spikes on the underside of his boot creating new lacerations with each hit.
Beedrill beared through the pain, his arms feeling like they'd snap. He needed to find some sort of opening - any opening.
His arms are really going to break. The wounds burned like they were on fire, only to be cut by cool metal again.
Something wet and warm splattered onto Beedrill's face, rolling down to his chin. Beedrill's own blood coating his face. - The intervals in between each kick - if he could attack then - if in that moment.
Beedrill snapped his right arm out of the way, still blocking his face with his left. A hard kick planted into his arm, bones creaking with the force. Beedrill struck back, nails digging into the snake's ankle, a jolt of electricity pulsating throughout his body.
The snake yelped, tugging back on his leg. Fox held onto the snake's ankle - taking the knife in his other hand, stabbing it directly into his calf, quickly ripping it out.
He stumbled back, fresh blood staining his muddied clothing. The snake reexamined Fox, paused, then slithered into the darkness, the sound of a cape dragging behind.
Fox rolled away on his back, pushing himself up by his knees, using a cave wall for support. His muscles burned, aching with every movement he made, and the sides of his arms shredded from being used as a glorified sheet of ice.
Finally, for better or for worse, neither of them knew where the other one was. Resting to control their breathing and regain their sense of control, inhaling deeply, counting the seconds.
They settled down. It'd only be a few moments until they began their hunt again, so now they reveled in their reprieve. The snake breathed in, quietly exhaling from his mouth. He listened in for Fox's heaving, attempting to hide his own.
…It did not last long. There's no time to waste. It's time to hunt again.
The two stalked their prey, listening intently for one quiet sound, one wrong movement, one foolish mistake. The snake slunk across the ground, carefully, unhooking his cape, discarding it and its weight. A sound, a footstep that was placed too roughly against the ground, a mistake. The snake couldn't stop himself from sneering.
He followed the sound, quickly closing in on the location, striking the darkness with manic precision, a scream. The blade dug through fabric and skin, skin and muscle, fresh blood mixing together in an alloy. Red quickly stained the wool, overtaking the blue in seconds.  Beedrill’s eyes widened. He would atone.
" AAAHHHHH-"
The snake shrieked, another jolt of electricity suddenly coursing through his body. He had gotten careless. Eager.
Fox simply stared. The pain was nauseating. He forced it out of focus, blinking several times. He will be nothing. Make him nothing. Make him atone.
Fox's right hand firmly grasped onto the arm embedding a knife into his abdomen, crackling electricity illuminating the cave in blaring lights.
The snake's blue eyes lit up in twisted delight, lips pulled back in an open sneer to reveal bared fangs. He looked dreadfully manic. His scream rang throughout the cave system, echoing and bouncing off walls. Guttural would be the only way to describe it.
Vocal cords that had never been used before - never forced into such an extreme sound.
And the snake couldn't help but smile, what a thrill to finally be alive. Dried blood - not of his own - smeared across his face began to flake off across his cheeks, slited eyes peeled back, glaring down at the morsel below him.
The electricity paused, the snake ripping the knife from Fox's abdomen, stumbling backward. A haze infested his mind, words, thoughts, structure, all was clouded and cut away. The snake heaved, desperately inhaling air like booze.
"Haah…Hah…Haah…a"
Convulsing fingers, muscles that he couldn't control, legs that revolted against his instincts to pull back, burning and on fire, retching that sounded like faint laughter, the sound of a bleating heart drumming in his ears, a body that wasn't his own. Revolting. Filthy.
MAKE HIM ATONE. MAKE HIM ATONE. MAKE HIM ATONE. Â There's no time to think, to notice the blood dripping onto the floor. Fox moved forward, even with the cave's lighting, he didn't have to guess where that snake was.
Writhing and gagging like a dying animal. Like he would be. Like he deserved to be. Â It was easy to guess. He raised his hand with a swift motion and stabbed. Searing blood flowed out, dribbling onto the floor. Â Sprite's pocket knife penetrated the snake's upper arm. Fox wrenched the knife downwards, straining it until Fox felt like his own hand was being dislodged. He drove a deep line between the snake's shoulder and elbow. The snake hissed in pain, kicking Fox with a blunt attack. Â It wasn't nearly as strong as his ones before. But - even a weak attack was enough to make Fox stumble back, leaving the metal fang embedded inside of the snake's arm.
Fox began to shake the pain overwhelming him, his head screaming at him to continue.  IT’S SO BRIGHT MAKE IT STOP. MAKE IT STOP. MAKE IT STOP  He would continue. Until it stopped.
The snake straightened his posture, looking at the knife still lodged inside his arm, a waterfall of blood hitting the floor with a wet splat.
Light snickering came in the form of sharp rasps, turning his attention to Fox as if it were nothing more than a mild annoyance.
He was going to die.
Fox was going to die without having won.
A myriad of failures ending with him being desecrated into a lump of meat.
Fox was going to lose.
Even though he still had a option left.
Fox squinted, hazy vision making the snake's approach uncertain.
The snake's laughter made it seem like a children's game they were playing. Only the two of them, secluded from anyone who would tell them 'No!'
The snake darted forward, another strike aimed at Fox's right arm - piercing his chest instead.
The snake's face hadn't changed, curled into an awful smile. Bright blue eyes staring into Fox's - eyes that laughed at him. What filth. YOU DON’T GET TO WIN. The snake pushed the blade in further, twisting the knife inside Fox's chest, ripping apart at skin and muscle and fat. It was perfect. He was so close. The cold glass of the needles barrel brought the world back into perfect focus for a split second. YOU. DON’T. GET. TO. WIN. Using his remaining strength, the Fox struck a final time. The laughter had stopped. He couldn’t smell smoke anymore. The brightness was receding. His arm was outstretched, impaling the eye of a Snake.  The world stood still. Eventually he yanked his arm back, the snapping of tendons like music to his ears. The force of this action caused him to fall to the floor, his moment of clarity long passed. He looked up at the figure looming over him, limbs once again begging to numb, thoughts coming half formed. The foxes own euphoric laughter began to start. It was unclear whose blood he could taste. Maybe he would be nothing, in fact it was clear he’d soon be meat. And yet. Nothing had ever felt this good before. The snake would never, ever recover. He lost. HE LOST. HE FUCKING ATONED. I MADE HIM ATONE. I MADE. HIM ATONE. He… Those thoughts trailed off into things more unintelligible . The only thing that mattered was the warmth that spread across him, the whole world melting away. It was a drug. Maybe being nothing wouldn’t be so bad.  . . . The body of Fox Fauna lay in the dirt, still, a syringe with a snakes eye on it just out of his reach.
