Nerve Dead

Chapter 1:

Cut

...

Grey was so, so close to ending it once and for all, as years of torrential anathema for his tormentor bubbled up in the wake of his emotional and mental abuse.

With his mother and sister having left the house for grocery shopping, his stepfather had crossed the final line with him.

"What is wrong with you? Can you not do anything right for once in your failed life!?"

Ungrateful, selfish, and egotistic as all hell, the old prick didn't have a drop of appreciation for all Grey's time invested in the 'family' business. Family? This was no family. At best, it was a dysfunctional micro-community of four. Five, if Nigel, his stepbrother, and only once-friend could be counted. But having used Grey as a scapegoat and leaving everything to him so that it lessened his own guilt about leaving the 'family' business, Nigel, had long since moved out. He never heard from him again.

Used and abused. That was Grey's life.

It got so bad that he worried he had become a hopeless and nihilistic misanthrope. Sometimes he felt that humanity was in desperate need of a good genocide; it may truly be the only way to save it from itself...

They had a tendency to be a selfish, idol-worshipping, knuckle-dragging, mindlessly self-indulgent, child molesting, and abusive species. And it was well past the point of return...

"Fuck off, old man. I've been working just as much as you. What has your precious son done for this business!? Fucked right off that's what, and I don't blame him, considering your wrinkly unappreciative ass."

"What was that!?"

Oh, and cruel to animals too. They were defenseless and innocent. What did they do wrong? Like humans, they didn't choose to be born. But they were better 'people' to their own species, in most cases anyway. Except for mosquitoes, they were assholes and no one could convince him otherwise. Plus, they shared qualities with his step-father, so fuck'em.

It was too bad they didn't have a means to really defend themselves in the face of man's tech.

Following such thoughts, and oddly enough, 'Pokémon' came to his mind.

It was strange, considering the last time he had played the game was...Some fifteen-twenty years ago? He couldn't remember shit all from the games or anime and much less from the manga. But this new-gen stuff that people—even at his age—were raving about; just annoyed him.

As a child, he liked the game.

Now?

He loathed it.

Why?

Somehow, these fire-breathing, ice-conjuring, plant-manipulating, powerful and Psy-kinetic, intelligent beings, very capable of defending themselves in a world like this one, and understanding human language; become slaves to humanity's self-indulgence in 'their' world? What? It was fictional, yes, but it was just...Bizarre. Stupid, even.

Grey just couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. Much more recent than 'pokémon', he had been an avid gamer of all sorts of franchises like 'Warcraft', 'Starcraft', 'Warhammer', 'Smite', 'Demi-God', 'League of legends', 'Dota', and 'Magic: the gathering' to name a few. But all those featured intelligent beings that didn't necessarily fall to the whims of 'humanity'. It was fair game, mostly.

Of course, this was all years after he started recovering from the shadow of his former self, distracting himself from it in any way, and getting involved in the 'family' business.

"You heard me."

The elder man furrowed his aging brow and he slammed a hand on the kitchen bench. "Pack up, and get the fuck out." He demanded with a stubby finger pointing to the door.

Really? He thinks he can kick 'me' out? Just like he tried with his 'own' son? Like I'm some snot to be flicked off his nose?

"Oh, you think you can kick me out? This is my mother's house too. I'm not your son for you to kick out! You old cunt."

Grey had considered himself to be patient with most people. Hell, he had a lot of practice, but here, he had lost it.

He was halfway through a psychology course, but he had to come back all the way from his 'actual' father's house to the family business and aid his mother. Because he had some karma to pay, that's how Grey saw it. It was fair to him at first...But being here for this long, with all the abuse, he found himself trapped in a perpetual descent to madness.

Every day he looked into the mirror and saw how a clean normal face, over time, became dandruff riddled, skin dry, unkempt, all-nighter, gaunt, and pale.

This place had eroded his nerves.

"If you don't get out, I will find a way to make you. You're a failed non-graduate student eating under our roof, you move in and out of your mother's life, you're an uncaring selfish brother to your sister and not to mention a poor son to your mother, you allowed that slut-druggo' ex of yours to manipulate you against her, and you're calling 'me' a 'cunt'? Fuck you! I thought they would've straightened you out. But somehow you became even worse ever since you came back from the—"

"At least I didn't almost send 'my' mother, your wife, to the hospital in a rage. I'm a fucking saint compared to you. You're lucky I was back at my dad's that day."

The old man rose a brow at that. "That's between me and your mot—"

"Very lucky," Grey repeated, with his eye flickering dangerously to the light reflecting off the blade of a kitchen knife on the bench. Very tempting right now, but that wouldn't be wi—

"Get out. Now. I mean it. You're a failure, and you'll always be one. And Weak. Just like your fucking Arab' father—"

The way Grey's nerve broke, was like the final strand of a sailboat's mast rope snapping under the pressure of a storm.

That was it.

Grey loomed toward his stepfather.

His hand ran along the kitchen bench surface, toward the knife as the image of his amber eye reflected off its steel edge. The killer instinct he had tried to forget and seal away for years now, had reawakened. Now, all his body perceived in front of him was just another enemy to be eliminated. An offense to his dignity. An attack against him.

A threat—

'Neutralize...Eliminate...Destroy the enemy.'

A migraine developed, serving only to infuriate him further; his nerves were on fire with his heart bursting in his chest so hard that it hurt—

"I'm sorry...What was that last part?" He managed out, barely restraining a growl.

Flushed red in annoyance, the old prick staggered back, "What, you think you're a macho now? You're gonna' assault a sixty-five-year-old? That'll look good on your record, as usual, you're illogical. No surprise there. They've fucked you up good in that place."

Fuck my record.

Grey grabbed the knife, though his trembling left arm became heavy for some reason, and a stabbing pain flared across his eye veins as they pulsated and twitched like crazy, but he didn't give a shit.

"I asked you a question, Marcus," said Grey with a snarl.

"What're you deaf too, now? tch—"

Fuck karma.

The tang of iron assaulted his nostril as a warm viscous liquid ran down to his lips, and his left leg trembled in his anger, but he refused to pay heed to it as his vision went red.

"—looks like you're gonna get vertigo—"

Fuck logic.

"—like your lebo' dad."

And fuck you.

Grey roared as he sprung toward a frightened Marcus, grabbing the collar of his shirt, dragging him across the kitchen, and with a grunt in effort, slung him over the sink with dishes falling and shattering on the floor.

The look of fear in Marcus' unblinking eyes was cathartic.

With his stepfather flailing in vain under the iron grip he had on his throat, a manic grin cracked Grey's face as he raised the knife to the sky.

"See you in Hell, Marcus."

The manipulation he had gone through in the past; the manipulation his mother had fabricated to sustain her failed fifteen-plus-year marriage with this fucker; the yelling and arguing; the spiteful quips; ungratefulness; physical and emotional abuse; and constant derisive demotivation, would all end today.

Vengeance for years of lacerating mental torture from all his past and current oppressors was at hand, and oh it would be delicious.

The muscles of his arm twitched as he was about to plunge the kitchen blade into his stepfather—

Grey's vision went white.

His head buzzed as he lost all bodily perception. It was like a stun grenade had exploded in his skull.

Wait…I…Huh...What's happ—

Were his final thoughts before the darkness…

…

Once more, the heat of light reddened his vision behind his lids. Bodily senses came back in parts with a head-splitting migraine making him wince. Some rocky little objects pressed against his face as he inhaled dust, racking out a cough while he jolted off the ground from his choking. Spitting out the dirt, he groaned in disgust before stopping altogether when his vision cleared.

...What the...Where am I?

A thick forest surrounded him, with patches of exposed dirt here and there, and he happened to be on one. Already his luck was shit and he didn't know what the fuck happened.

It was only when he gripped his fist that he observed the knife was still in his hand, and to make matters worse...

It was as clean as it was when he picked it up, with his shocked eyes peeking through his mess of black locks mirrored on the steel.

No...No, no, no—No!

This wasn't happening. This—

The ruffling of bushes alerted him, and he whirled around pointing the knife in the direction of the noise. A raccoon…Of sorts, shuffled its way out of it, sniffing the ground.

Wait. What the fuck is that?

The pointy-haired, white and beige striped mammal peeked at him through its fur-masked black eyes.

"Zigza—st a Human," it grunted, before ignoring him and scurrying off into the bushes.

...Did...Did that thing just talk?

It was a bit too big for any raccoon he had ever seen. As he gazed in its direction, he noticed a—disturbingly—huge red grub, lurching its way across a tree branch above.

"Wurmple...Wur—hungry," it hummed in an acute quivering voice while gazing at him with big, yellow, and pupiled eyes, before disappearing into the leaves...

Maybe the raccoon was a bit of an anomaly. But 'that' was far too big to be a normal bug. No insect on Earth, much less a caterpillar, should be so massive. At most, a Hickory horned devil would measure up to 14cm. That thing was at least 30 fucking centimeters tall and eight pounds worth of bug, with pupiled eyes...And it definitely talked.

Something was wrong...

No...

Was he...Was he dead!? While Marcus was still—

A distant panicked yell and some feral barking echoed from deeper in the forest.

This was hell.

A little more green than he expected, yes, but this was hell.

It had to be. And his body was lying on the kitchen floor back at his miserable home on Earth, dead for who knows what reason. While his step-father, narrowly escaping death, would be smirking over his dead body.

If that wasn't an injustice, then the universe was a prick and he was candidly fucked.

But...How?

Though he did recall that skull splitting-migraine...Wait...Now that he considered it...The symptoms, and—

Oh bloody hell...

"Did I just die from a ruptured aneurysm?"

It was the only explanation for the symptomatic process, with years worth of accumulated stress that was apparently enhanced by his enraged blood lust...But then, how did he end up here with the same clothes he had on? His white hoodie nor blue jeans had any signs of blood, only a bit of soot from the ground he laid on. And what about the knife he still carried? And the huge—apparently talking—fauna? He didn't remember smoking a ton of joints or doing any LSD. And even if he did, there's no way it would produce such real hallucinations, could it?

What the fuck was going on!?

The yell through the trees intensified enough to identify it as male, with the barking getting louder.

Grey sifted through his choices. Megafauna most likely plagued these woods and he really didn't want to delve further in. But surrounded by tall trees, there wasn't a hint of civilization in sight. The only sign of it was the person in trouble, and they may be the only one around here, for who knew how many miles, to give him some answers. It was inevitable.

"Shit."

Breathing in preparation, lifting his hood overhead, shoving the knife into his front jumper pouch, and gathering his wits, he launched himself into a mad sprint through the branches and jumped over the shrubbery. His peripheral occasionally picked up something moving within the leafy shadows of the trees and bushes, but it would be unwise to stop moving—

Don't look back-don't look back-don't look back.

—Instead, he increased his pace and bolted; despite his stomach heaving from the exertion and leg muscles burning from the rough terrain.

The yelling turned into a plea for help. He was getting closer, and before long, he spotted a sunlit clearing through the trees. Grey burst out of the woods, onto a grassy decline, and stumbled onto a scene below him.

He was glad to see another human, but not so much about the situation they were in. A chubby man in his thirties, wearing a scuffed up lab coat, was clinging for dear life on a branch. Below him, surrounding the tree, was a pack of three smoky-furred...Hyenas? Canines? Attempting to scale the tree, while letting out vicious barks at the man. He swore one of them yelled something coherent in the human tongue but preferred to believe he was brain-damaged enough to imagine it.

They were each the size of a full-grown Labrador, sporting red eyes on yellow sclera and huge fangs jutting out from the bottom of their frothing lips...Yeah, fuck 'that'.

But before he could turn away—

"You! Hey, you! Oh, I'm so glad someone heard me, please help!"

Oh for God's sake!

Grey was already on the verge of shitting his pants on the way here, he was lucky enough nothing had swiped him on his rush through the woods. But this was bullshit; however, the man could potentially be the only one that can make some sense out of all this, and from the looks of it, he was some kind of researcher…

He turned to the pleading man. "Uh, hey. I'd really like to help but I don't see how—"

"The bag! Right there on the edge of the cliff! Use the—"

He pointed before almost slipping off the branch, causing Grey to wince and immediately comply. With his heart pounding all the way at his throat, he came upon a leather shoulder bag on the ground and reached for something useful within...It was round. A grenade?

He pulled it out and for a few moments didn't register what it was until—

"No…No..."

He shook his head and his stomach sank as the world spun for a moment, with his blood running cold.

This isn't what I think it is...Right?

Despite his long-forgotten knowledge, the World-famous symbol of its existence was undeniable. But it almost made sense, the large fauna, their odd ability to talk, and their bizarre shapes and colors…

The metallic spherical device had a red top and white bottom—or was it the reverse?—and separating the two colors in the middle was a black sealed line and a white button in the middle.

Oh hell…

No wait, maybe he's a fan or something! Yeah! And t-this is fake, a toy! Or collectible! Looks pretty fucking real and well crafted, actually.

He took note of the big black 'X' sticker on the red side of the ball. What was that? That was unusual, right? Must be a new-gen trend or someth—

"No! Don't use that one!" Came the professor's worried voice.

Ha! I knew it! It 'is' just a collectible ite—

"She's unstable!"

Dread filled Grey. "What?" He gawked at the man who readjusted himself on the branch.

"That one's not gonna' do anything you tell it to, try another one quick!"

H-He's joking, right? Has he gone mad? Or maybe I have.

"W-what do you mean by that?"

"I mean, use another pokém—"

No! No! No!

"I'm sorry, sir, what was that? I-I couldn't hear you."

"Damn it, man! Grab another pokéball and throw it! There're three more in there but put that one back! Hurry I'm slipping!"

But his voice was drowned out as reality sank for Grey...The creatures, their appearance, and their talking...

Holy shit.

This wasn't fair. Out of all the things to happen...All the possibilities...All the fictional universes...Why this one? He knew next to nothing about it. It just couldn't be. And those things chasing the professor were just normal sized canines. Weren't there bigger and more powerful creatures like, what's its name, a Chariza—

Grey's breath quivered and bile came up his throat at the mere thought of creatures that size existing. In his shock, his hand quivered with his grip releasing, and he fumbled the pokéball—

"Oh shit!"

He reached out for the midair ball—

The professor gasped, "No! What have you—"

But too late, the ball landed on the ground and popped open with a familiar sound. Whirring red energy poured out of its maw and began materializing into a shape. He would have appreciated the marvelous sight more if it wasn't for the panic rising in his chest.

The morphing was complete.

Standing there, a meter in height, was some kind of bird? Bipedal Chicken? No that wasn't right, this thing had two long yellow arms with three deadly long claws at the end of each, while its ashy scaled legs ended with clawed feet. Orange shaggy plumage covered its well-endowed thighs, while yellow smoother plumage covered the rest of its upper body, with a short beak and three orange feathers forming a small crest on its head—

It thrust its arms out and flames erupted around it—

"Combus—ck yeah bitches! I'm free! Ragh! Now, who's the fucker that locked me up!?" She asked in a feminine yet tempestuous voice as she whirled about in a fury.

Her fiery eyes shifted to her spherical prison on the ground, before landing on Grey and giving him a vicious death stare.

A meter tall and coming out of a tiny ball, fire-producing, able to speak entire sentences on top of swearing...Clearly, not a collectible.

Well, shit.

Despite the professor's situation being eerily familiar, Grey had forgotten mostly all about the franchise, how to play the games, or what had happened in the anime or manga so far. So many generations must have passed by now.

He was never good at house training a common pet...Much less did he know how to tame a real; live; fire-breathing, Pokémon...

The whetting of blades rang as she brandished her knife-like claws and marched straight toward him with murder in her eyes.

So this was karma, or more aptly, Hell.

Fuck...