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WELCOME TO THE DARK CARNIVAL, BROTHER.
bitches don't know bout my sumi-e
meng_huan_myuu wrote in ink_logs
Where: Trevor's Compound, Main Lab
When: Thursday evening
Who: Trevor and his worst nightmare
What: Vengance for... things that Trevor would have done if he had known to. Possibly. Probably.
Warnings: Shit is gonna get violent. And gory. GRIMDARK LEVELS ARE THROUGH THE ROOF, FOLKS. honk.


Minutes had long since blurred together. Hours, days, weeks... how long had Mew left herself to rot in those blasted air vents? The thought never occurred to check her communicator's clock, even when she started using it to send cryptic messages while her sanity waned. She had been waiting, waiting for Trevor to slip up, to make a mistake. To show her his back so she could rip out his spine. That opportunity never came. The man was competent, frighteningly so for a single human. Clearly, she was not the first creature to seek his suffering.

How long had it been now? Three weeks? Four? It hadn't been a year yet, she mused to herself, even as she silently drifted through the vents, closer to the lab she had seen in that video... confining one's self without interaction was the quickest way to both lose track of time and lose grip on your sanity, something that Mew had learned in her fortnight staking out Trevor's complex. Sure, she tried to pass the time by playing pranks, tricking his security system... by now, she was certain that he would never have seen her crawl into the ducting on that first day; if he had, he would have sniffed her out.

But none of that was important now.

She had grown sick of waiting.

He was going to pay now. He was only the first she would judge... in a way, she pitied him; he was the first to suffer her hate.

Mew was not the only one whose sanity had waned within the casement of those steel and concrete walls. Day and night had passed without an ounce of sleep. The security systems were all wrong: camera-scans detecting ghost presences while acting perfectly normal the next moment, experimental machines shutting down suddenly with no problem in sight.

Double-checking, triple-checking, even quadruple-checking he found nothing wrong, as if a cloud had been drawn over his awareness.

And worst of all, a malevolent presence burrowing in his mind, making his sanity into a game of child's play.

All this had contributed to an extreme paranoia--all the days were a blur. Were the people he talked to figments? Were any of his thoughts his own? He didn't go anywhere without a gun holstered within his coat.

Trevor was a man of extreme patience, but even it had its limits. He could no longer stand the sleepless nights. He was beginning to welcome sleep, any sleep that would come, but it could not. Not just yet...

She had been inside his head for at least a week now. At first, she was simply probing, trying to figure out her bearings in this alien construct of metal and hate. It was so like where she was experimented on, but at the same time, unlike it in the same way. Instead of having a central "lab", there were test chambers of all sorts throughout the complex, and Trevor found his way into every last one at various times.

Recently, however, she had gotten braver. Started giving him tunnel vision - not too hard, really... fooling a human was much easier than fooling a machine. Do not see that misplaced beaker that set off your turrets motion-detection systems. That machine was always off, your finger must have slipped. Nobody is going to help you, anyway... you have to do this alone.

All incredibly simple commands, and if Trevor's will had been a bit stronger, perhaps Mew would have broken before he did. However, just as she expected, he was a human... too clouded with ego and desire to fight such intrusive thoughts.

In addition, her 'link' to him made it incredibly easy for her to seek him out, that psychic pressure growing heavier on Trevor's mind as she floated closer and closer to the vent cover that would lead into the lab he was currently stationed in.

The dealings with psychic aliens should have prepared him for this, but he could barely remember Mew from the forest at all. Thus, he continued ignorant as ever--as much as he could continue, anyways.

In the weeks past he could barely finish any project despite his best attempts. God, it was a miracle he wasn't slumped over in a chair.

Back in Bregna he could have a thousand assistants work on this day and night whilst he retired back to his office and indulged in some godless debauchery.

But that was all gone now. He didn't even have one single assistant, he was all alone. Right now. He didn't even think that something would be lying in wait in the air ducts.

Funny, wasn't it? That magical restoration that the Mayor had given Trevor... why, it only made him weaker. Back to his normal, human self, dependant on his brain, his thoughts for strength... and Mew had done everything she could since the day of that video, to make sure he lost that crutch.

She hadn't expected it would wear on her nearly as much, but then... she hadn't expected someone who had protected her in a near-zombielike state to turn out to be so unashamedly sickening out of it.

And she had just started trusting humans, again. Shame.

But none of it mattered, any more. He was right there, staring at something in that dazed fashion that shows that one's mind can't focus on it... it would all be over soon. It won't be long at all, now.

Without his keen observation and intellect, he was barely anything. He even forgot what it was he was working on--a circuit to a computer mainframe? A turret part? Did it matter? Somehow, it was important he worked on it.

It was lucky that Trevor didn't even hear her enter the room. His gaze remained fixed on this one piece of equipment, nearly like a zombie. There he stood, the perfect prey...

It's only then that she realizes she let that last thought out a little too loud... though it seems to have worked in her favor, as he relaxes slightly... mentally, if not physically. He didn't even turn as the vent cover swung open, a bit louder than expected.

However, there was no hiding her presence now. So, instead, she focuses her powers, casually flipping off the light switch and floating into the air, a dull pink glow being all that she gives off. Had this happened sooner, she might have been unsure of what to do. But now... now, she has the same response to hesitation that all mentally broken psychopaths do.

Nursery rhymes, and Agatha Christie.

Ten little Pikachus went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine...

The light...who turned off the light? And there's the first sign that something's going wrong. This place is wired like a boss, there's no reason for a massive electric failure like that, not on that scale.

The second sign? The rhymes in his head. He never even heard of a Pikachu, much less met one. No, no, something's horribly wrong...

"What?" is all he says out loud.

It's slightly less 'in his head', and in fact, there might be a niggling recognition in the back of his memories somewhere. It's certainly a "voice" he's heard before.

Nine little Abras sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were eight... You sleepy, Trevor? Mew's busy taking stock of what's in this particular lab, seeing if it has the tools she needs in order to have... fun.

There's the slight recollection, a sense of deja vu. He's heard that voice somewhere...but where?

Somehow the creepy lullabies make things worse. Then again, he's sinking to the floor, sleep creeping in.

"What is this?"

Eight little Zubats travelling in Hoenn; One said he'd stay there and then there were seven. A couple of thoughts come, unvocalized, along with that.

The thought that this is what you get for tampering with human beings like playthings... Along with visions of a swarm of eyeless bats, shrieking and swooping throughout a cave, making life hellish for anybody in their territory.

At the same time, a scalpel slowly floats out of its holder, swooping similarly over and slicing Trevor across the cheek quickly. Careful now... if you go to sleep now, you'll miss all the action~.

What, what. Bats?! How is this even possible?! Completely taken off gaurd, Trevor pulls out his gun and points at the Zubats.

"It was to advance humanity! We were so close--"

If the random screeching bats didn't jolt him awake, the sudden stinging sensation across his cheek did. He could feel the blood trickling down...

Hm. A gun. She didn't like those... thus, it's the next thing to get her attention. A firm psychic grasp, and then a fling, attempting to wring the firearm out of Trevor's hands as she keeps going.

Seven little Scythers chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in half and then there were six.

The scalpel slides down along Trevor's front, making a surface incision along his torso. Nothing deep enough to draw more than just surface blood... but certainly something. What good is advancing humanity, if all other races get stomped beneath one's heel in the ascent?

The chairman's hand struggles with the gun trying to get wrenched out of his grasp. Clearly it was time to admit someone was there in his compound that wasn't supposed to be there.

Constant singing in his, head, it was driving him mad!

He didn't even bother to say something as a another sharp pain rips through his shirt, letting blood trickle down. You get an audible gasp for that, Mew.

Yet, Trevor's hand holds firm on his last line of defense. Well, she'd certainly have to change that. And how fitting, she could easily think of a dramatically appropriate way, too!

Six little Farfetch'd playing with a hive; A Beedrill stung one and then there were five.

Were Trevor's mind fully functioning, he'd probably know what would come next. A filled syringe flips out of a desk drawer, floating over and ever-so-gingerly poking into his neck. As Mew slowly pushed down the plunger, she mused to herself. She didn't actually know what this was. Anesthetic? Tranquilizer? She could be injecting paint thinner into his veins and dooming him to a melty death. That wouldn't be any fun, she mused... she still wanted him alive. She wasn't a murderer, after all.

"This won't accomplish anything!" he groaned out, "It's been done before, your actions are meaningless--"

In the syringe goes...what. Apparently it was some kind of light anesthetic, serving the purpose of relaxing the patient in question...but only slightly.

With a twitch his body spazzes out, dropping the gun before crumpling to the floor. His awareness is all-to there...

Five little Slowpokes going in for law; One became a Slowking and then there were four.

Are they truly meaningless, Trevor? I've seen you the last few weeks. Were our roles reversed, I would do the same to you. Again, the thoughts seep in like idle noise, things not actively thought, just floating into awareness, as the gun flies across the room with significant force, slamming noisily against the wall.

Good, he didn't melt. That would've sucked.

Nearly drowning in thoughts, Trevor mumbles back through the haze of anesthesia, "I have my own reasons...what do you have...?"

Welp, doesn't this suck? He's unarmed with a psycho.

Four little Totodiles going out to sea; A Magikarp swallowed one and then there were three.

Mew sets about removing that shirt from the human, slicing off one button at a time with surgical precision as she flits around, letting herself finally be seen.

Visions flash through Trevor's eyes, of Kanto from her point of view... the useless battles, the forced slavery... the experiments they did on her, the knowledge that she gained, of the fruit of those experiments... that they had tortured her in order to learn how to make her children torture each other...

I have nothing but hate in my ruined, black heart. You may not be them, but you are like them, and if you do not learn of what your science truly accomplishes, you will deserve whatever befalls you.

The shirt's coming off...and this time he doesn't like it one bit.

All this he's experiencing through his eyes, visions of slavery, so many new creatures, so much pain, so much...everything.

And all he can say is, "The path to godhood is a long one. If you want my apologies, you have them. I've experience pain countless times before...but is a part of evolution..."


Then you're about to evolve.

She snarls, slowly picking Trevor's prone body up from the ground and carrying it awkwardly to one of the operating tables, going back to humming that mockery of a nursery rhyme. Appropriate that he mention evolution...

Three little Eevees walking in the zoo; A Ursaring hugged one and then there were two.

As she sing-songs, she fastens the restraints, one after another.

He just looks on with a pained, defiant stare as the restraints come down.

That song, continuing in his head nonstop: it's nearly unbearable. What is this thing thinking of doing? Trevor can only guess something worse.

If only his gun came back to his grasp...

"You creatures are all the same: pointless violence...for what sake? Nothing. At least I have the pretense of doing something..."

If Mew was truly pointlessly violent, she would float that gun up and clip him in the shoulder as had been done to her when she first arrived. She takes extra care of making Trevor aware of that with the images she presents to him.

Two Little Sunflora sitting in the sun; One frizzled up and then there was one. All I am doing is steering you away from your path before you hurt anybody else. If that means I have to show you first hand what your science is doing, so be it.

His grimace is permanently glued on at the moment, "I lived with the consequences of my actions more than enough. Acting out on your psychosis...will prove worthless!"

Oh, will it...?

After that first syringe, she knows that the green ones are good for knocking him out, so she takes several more out, giggling strangely.

One little scientist left all alone; He went out and hanged himself and then there were none..!

And with a gleeful, psychotic cackle, all of them lunge at the restrained human at once.

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