★ Sᴛᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ Sᴄᴀʀs ★

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Haematophiliac | Shayochism | Bannai

“…tsk.”

How pathetic. Once again, he proved he was far too emotional.

“And I already told you. Words mean nothing. Not these, at least.”

Still, he lets go, giving a quick look to his Pokèmon for it to do the same. Not out of a sudden moment of morality, not because he’s convinced, of course. Was it pity? Maybe the knowledge that he would die anyway as soon as their plans came to fruition?             Maybe, both.

“You say you’re willing to kill, and yet all you managed to do is kill my patience.

Get out of my sight. Do us both a favor.”

     With a breath of relief, he’s finally released, slumping off of the table and wobbling until his ass hits the floor. He sits there for a moment, head hanging forwards as he debates what to do or say. Continue to fight... Or succumb...?

     “Then... gimmea chance to prove myself...” He breathes, running a bare arm across his nose to wipe away some blood. “I’ll do anythin’. Y’know this. I’ve always tried to make y’happy. Until I got cocky as fuck.”

     With a sniffle, he stands up, shaking slightly before standing still.

…and there we go. Digging his grave even more.

Perhaps, this time, literally.

Kane barely has the time to finish talking before his former leader, now once again filled with anger found himself forced to keep in a yell. Instead, he simply moves his hand again, letting the Dorvilence know it’s time to strike.

It’s not a proper move. It’s not to hurt. Not too much, at least. All the Pokèmon does is sliding in the shadows before reappearing behind the other, moving its sharp tail around Kane’s neck before slamming his head against that poor table.

“Have you ever considered, instead,” Debito hisses, standing up once again and grabbing the other by the hair, lifting his head just enough to make sure he’ll have his complete attention “that perhaps, you’re the defective one?

Out of all the grunts on this ship, nobody dared to even raise their eyes when I told them not to. Not even Radio is as rebellious as you are. You did nothing–” he slams Kane’s head down again, before lifting it “–but complaining. Nothing–” and again “–but talking back, and even now that I allow you a second chance you do NOTHING–” and again, pressing hard Kane’s forehead on the wood “–but PISSING ME OFF. But you’re right. That’s on me. A good leader shouldn’t give more and more chances to someone who didn’t deserve a single one of them.

I changed my mind. Don’t give me a reason to bring you back in the Team anymore. You wasted that one too.

Give me a reason I should let you live, Kane.”

     There’s only a split second before the Pokémon is upon him and he raises his hands to its tail in a futile manner, only for his face to strike the desk which in turn causes him to yell out in pain as there’s a blatant crack heard. Blood soon pools from his nose and lip and he wants to cry so badly. So, so badly. But he refrains from letting the tears flow, even as Debs grabs his hair and looks at him.

     Defective. He’s been called that before and it hurts as much as ever.

     Each time his head strikes the surface, he has to force himself to remain quiet, as much as he wants to yell, to writhe and have it stop. So when he’s simply left there to bleed out, he welcomes it, allowing Debs to press him down.

     He knows he’s pissed the man off. But what can he do now?! He’s tried the strong tactic. He’s tried yelling back and all that shit but it didn’t work. He feels so helpless, useless, defective...

     “Because...” He breathes, puffing to the side so as to rid his mouth of blood. “Because...”

     Because...?

     “I jus’... ... Wanna be good for yer...”

     Energy sapped, he feels like falling to the floor if Debs would let him, as would the Pokémon, but he remains stoic in place, legs shaking so gently, eyes screwed shut. The pain in his face is immense and he wants to cry again. But he doesn’t let himself. No. He can’t. He feels like a scorned dog kicked to the kerb right now. Which he knows he deserves. 

     His eyes flicker open, casting a glare at Debito from the angle he’s at.

Should he be… surprised? Maybe impressed he’s finally showing some balls?       Bah. All he did was simply lifting a hand so his Pokèmon wouldn’t attack after he dared to hit his boss’ table and raise his voice, staring coldly at the other.

“You said that right. Once you had potential. Once you took down an entire base.    Now, you spent most of your day being a depravate with people you don’t even like, throwing mud on the name of the Team you’re so desperate to get back into.

You’ve proven more and more than you’re weak. Emotional. Unstable and unable to control yourself. You prove yourself to be much more than a bet gone wrong. You’re a disappointment.”

He remains silent after a few seconds, after that. Taking his time to sit down and rub his eyes, before returning to glare at the other.

“Words mean nothing, then. I want facts. The proof that you’re more than the pathetic good-for-nothing you were for the past months.”

     “Then let me prove it.” Comes a simple sentence, a blank tone. “Don’ think me weak. Y’know when I come into play I ain’. Y’know what? Maybe it’s yer fuckin’ discipline. Maybe tha’s why I became oh so fuckin’ WEAK. Because y’just sit around in ‘ere, wankin’ to whatever shit material y’find, an’ don’ lift a damn finger at me! Y’tell me to scrub the decks? Oh no, big owch!”

     He’s getting worked up again.

     “Jus’ because I ain’ an emotionless cunt like yerself don’t mean I’m weak. Emotions fuckin’ suck but y’know? I’m human. Unlike some! I actually care for me job no matter wot y’fuckin’ throw at me. I do bad? I pay fer it. I know I should. So I do it. I actually fuckin’ do it. I don’ complain. I just DO IT!”

     A deep inhale.

❝ Surely you have a home … right? Uh, as for the manor, it has eight rooms with their own personal bathroom each, a front, side and back yard, a private car park and indoor pool. Not that they’re really used all that much, I tend to keep the space for my Pokémon to roam. ❞

He keeps rambling. And rambling. And rambling, is that all he can do?!

“Shut UP!” the leader finally snaps, slamming his fist on the table once again “You really think you being drunk was all? That it wasn’t simply the straw that broke the Camerupt’s back?! You may have bled and cried for the Team, but you also skipped your job, you also spent your days fucking every single person who breathed your same hair, you also got into fights with other teammates and kept complaining and questioning me every single time I repremended you.

Even now, all you do is standing there and coming up with excuses, stuttering like a fucking child!

I asked you a question, and I expect you to answer me without beating around the bush.”

With a quick movement of the wrist, still keeping his eyes on Kane, Debito let his Dorvilence leave the Pokèball, appearing behind his Trainer. Towering over him. Glaring at the other.

            “And be quick.”

     The yelling scares him at first, only to then suddenly fuel him with blind, hot anger. He clenches his fists as he looks at the ground, teeth gritting. He’s been shit. He really has. But... But...

     ... But what? There are no excuses. No damn excuses. He feels shit all of a sudden, that built up confidence and anger quickly evaporating into the tension filled air. He hates being so damn weak. Well, physically anyway. His Pokémon are strong. He can do shit. He really can. But he did slack of a little towards the end.

     “’cause y’know I can do me work else y’never would’ve made me a fuckin enforcer. I were great once. I can do it again. Did y’forget I took down that stupid base? That I destroyed it? I’ll do it again t’show y if I ‘ave to.” He starts, knowing that he will have to change some things about himself to ever be that good once more. Over the years he never realized he’d become so... so fucking soft. So weak and pathetic. It’s making him cringe. He’s changed a lot and he hates it. He almost wants to cry but know that’s a bad option, plus it almost physically hurts him to know he wants to cry. That is pathetic as fuck.

     “’cause I’m fuckin’ great, yea?” Comes a deeper tone, head jutting back up. He swallows hard.

     “Be-fucking-cause I’m the damn best enforcer there can be when I stop fuckin’ slackin’ an’ fuckin’ around!”

     His hands slam into the desk akin to how Debito did it earlier.