Day of Judgement

The sky was dark with ominous clouds, providing a fitting backdrop. The rumbles of thunder she could hear matched well with the rumble of irritation inside her head. Basaina had managed to gather up her courage enough to talk to Sheila about it, because it wasn't getting better and damn it, she was scared. The black Ninetales before her looked... normal, which was good. It was when the voice took over that her targets began to be bathed in red, like blood, as if to enrage her further.

She opened her mouth, and then shook her head, trying vainly to clear it.The voice talked so much now that she could hardly ever think properly. Now, when she looked at Sheila and tried to summon up the proper way to say it, its words slashed at her thoughts. “I – I need to say...”

“She is not worthy. She houses evil. Kill her.”

“I'm sorry, about... when I attacked everyone.” Her voice was so timid, so faltering. It hurt her. Once, she had confidence, and had been proud and cheerful and ready to fight anything. What had she become?

“You will not say anything.”

“It's something like – like what you have, and I hear it --” A flash of purple caught her eye, and she turned her head. A Delcatty's corpse was there, with Sheila's scent lingering on it... Painfearangerresentmentguiltcontrol. Basaina stumbled, eyes widening. It was no longer a voice, but just emotions, battering against her again and again. She couldn't catch her breath, as if it was keeping her from breathing. Control. Her body felt cold, the fires shrinking. Control. She barely saw Sheila jump back, tails blurring into a blob of shadow. Was this what dying felt like?

Obey.

--

She did not like this vessel. It had too many memories and emotions that were... kind, compassionate. Yet, in the end, her host was a violent creature, and she used that as much as she could. That kindness made the Arcanine vulnerable to doubt and fear, especially when combined with the bloodlust and skill in battle that had let her survive for so long. Fear was powerful. It gnawed at the mind until there was an opening, and then she could slip in and begin the judgement. Others hadn't been enlightened yet. Her siblings would have disapproved. They were near, and she could even tell which hosts they had taken. More complications, but they would not stop her.

It had started slowly, when she had still slept in the depths of her lake. Not much could make her stir, but the screams and howls of torment and rage gave her nightmares. The blood tainted the water, and the deaths weighed on her soul. Slowly, she became aware of what was happening, of what had been done. Humans. They were forcing Pokemon to fight each other, to kill families or set mates against each other, breeding hatred and sorrow and death. She could not let it continue, could not let innocents be slaughtered like this.

There had risen up a group of veterans, Pokemon with scars and bitter pasts and too many opponents they had killed, and they had decided to fight the humans. They were normal Pokemon. Many, yes, but not enough. Never enough, to deal with the plague of humans. So she slipped in, and found a likely catalyst in the form of an Arcanine. In place, she watched all of them carefully. The Ninetales had instantly shown up as odd, and her actions had only revealed the evil that she carried with her. The Mightyena had been healed of her curse, but this 'Demon' still lived on in Sheila. As for the Lucario, the one that her host cared for so much – she hated him. He seemed to reveal more power, more abilities every time he fought, and it troubled her. The Lucario would not let her take control of his loved one so easily. He was a problem.

Still, no one else guessed, not even the Psychics who believed they could see and protect against everything. They could not fight her. They never would be strong enough. The Arcanine, when she became aware of her, fought, but she was no Psychic-type, to be able to shield her mind. It was so easy, to trigger rage or guilt or sadness, and then manipulate her vessel like a puppet. The Pokemon – they called themselves the Rack Shackle Pack – were doing everything wrong. Their actions only worsened the situation, and they could not fight properly when corrupted by their own time in the arena. So, she used her vessel. She fought them, when the Lucario was near death and unable to stop her. She injured many, but she needed to pass judgement on them all.

Black and white. The colours were her mask, her disguise to keep her vessel from guessing anything about the true nature of the 'voice'. Flashes escaped her grasp, but what would the thought of a lake reveal? There was no question that the Arcanine belonged solely to her now, and she marked her fur, changing her to better match her purpose. After a while, all the emotions she stirred up created a cycle, and the desire to leave. Her host feared hurting the pack again, and didn't want to lose control. Leaving was the only true choice, and she made sure to bring it to the forefront of her tool's mind time and time again.

They were in Johto now, and it was the perfect time. Strike a final blow, kill the Demon, and then leave. Any closer to Sinnoh and it would become dangerous, but here, she was still safe and undetected. Yet, her host foolishly tried to tell the Ninetales about her, about the 'voice' that haunted her mind and made her attack her comrades. It was the corpse that forced her to act, though, the Ninetales' victim. There was no time for subtlety. She forced all the emotions that she had felt since she had awakened, flung them at the Arcanine until she nearly collapsed from the weight, and then took over.

There was always a moment where neither of them could see or feel anything, when her mind had to connect with the body, but Sheila seemed to be too shocked to do anything. “It is clear now... You will not live through the passing of judgement.” She knew the body's limits now, and blocked the pain so that it would not impede her efforts. Moving forward in a lunge, she rammed into the Ninetales and blasted Sheila with fire, before darting in again and raking her fangs across her opponent's side. Blood beaded through the coal-black fur, but she suddenly stopped her attack, growling.

Her true enemy had appeared. Red markings flashed against the fur, and the entity grinned at having lured the other out so soon. She didn't waste time; manifesting her power as pure white balls of flame, tiny wisps that surrounded her and cast a surreal light on the area, she circled her enemy, baring her fangs. The Ninetales, puppeted by its controller, circled as well, but barely had time to react as she lunged again. It skipped to the side, swinging a tail suddenly hardened in the likeness of metal at her shoulder. She blocked out the pain, drowning the sensation in anger and the need for balance. Summoning up a more regular power, she used her muscles in a feat of speed that let her move unseen, striking once, and then again.

Her enemy appeared to realize how she was managing it, and dug its way underground, out of her reach. It surfaced soon after, clinging to her side with its fangs digging in. The pain was stronger this time, but she eventually forced it away and shook the Ninetales off. The fur on her head acquired the metallic tinge that she needed, and she smashed into the other once again, hitting it in the stomach. It looked weakened – as she approached to give it the final blow, it suddenly gained a burst of energy and slashed her across her muzzle, cutting deeply. The pain was, again, unimportant. She pounced on it, determined to not let the opportunity slide away, but it managed to dodge with only another bleeding wound. She heard it speak, but didn't pay much attention to its words. It would lie, try to distract her. False threats and deceit were nothing, though. She kept her own voice empty of her rage as she replied to the half-heard words. “Your attempts to destroy me will be futile. If you are darkness, I will be light, and you will be judged.”

The Ninetales seemed enraged by her words, and retorted, “I am not darkness, do you not see? I am trying to protect the rest of the Pack from your destructive ideals!” If it wasn't lying, then those intentions were misguided, only proving how blind the Demon was.

“So be it.” She gathered herself and lunged again, growling as a Protect blocked her from her victory. It leaped onto her side, fangs digging into the fur of her neck, and claws scrabbling for a hold on her side and shoulder. She shook, trying to get it off, but it sprang away by itself. Running after, she used another Steel attack, hardening her tail and slamming it into her opponent's back. It collapsed, and she attacked as it got back up, only to be hit by a Shadow Ball. Rearing back from the impact, she decided to finally use it. Fitting, to expend so much power to get rid of the evil plague that tainted the pack.

Her tiny balls of flame grew in size and brighteness, circling around her as she gathered energy in her mouth. The Demon seemed to realize what was going on and copied her, charging up its own attack. It grew at the same rate – a collision would destroy the surrounding area, and perhaps kill them both. No matter. She could flee, find another host. The Arcanine's death didn't matter.

The attacks were released at the same time, white and black heading towards each others as the swarms of tiny flames collided and exploded. She smiled, confident in her victory. The beams of energy hit, spun for a moment, and then a shockwave blanketed the world in all-consuming white.

--

Basaina could feel that this was different. This wasn't her being forced to stay conscious, like the last time she had been taken over. Now, she couldn't see what was going on. She had been shunted aside, to a prison of blank walls, and left there. Was Sheila dead? Was she dead? It was so hard to tell, here, drifting in the air like a spirit. She couldn't feel a thing – when she looked at her body, she saw white and cream fur, but it didn't seem to be attached to her. She couldn't move.

She was stuck.

The presence of something else entered, and she flinched. Was the voice coming back? No, it felt... different. Softer, less dangerous. It was 'larger' too, more powerful. “Who are you?” she asked, though she couldn't hear her own voice. Was she talking in thoughts – telepathy?

“So you're the one she's using.” it remarked, completely ignoring her. Its 'voice' pressed down on her, almost like it was commanding her to stay quiet and listen.

“I asked – who are you?” she growled out again. Silence. Could it even hear her? Maybe she thought hse was talking but she wasn't really talking...

“Little one.” There was affection now, aloof but still there. “You do not have to succumb. There are ways of resisting, until we banish her. Remember this when you awaken.” Just as suddenly, it disappeared, making her feel even more confused than before. Who was he talking about? The prison began to crack, and she looked at the walls. There were cracks in them, bright white on dull, and she felt something grab at her. The blank walls suddenly shattered, and light flooded in, light that swallowed her up and carried her away...

--

She woke up to rain that fell down onto her fur, that ran down her head and got into her eyes. It stung at many wounds she didn't remember getting, and what parts of her weren't covered with blood were muddy and aching. Still, she managed to stand, though she had some trouble staggering out of the crater that had inexplicably formed around her. Basaina blinked, forcing the blurry shapes in the distance to resolve into something clearer, and then stumbled in the direction of the rest of the pack. “I... I'm better now.” she said, stopping a distance away; not out of caution, but because her legs were threatening to buckle beneath her. She thought back to the new voice – didn't she have enough with one  already? – and its words. “I promise.”