[The mysterious mustachioed man perks up when Guzma finally takes an interest. He nods and appears to think back to the very definitely real memory of this bug that super does exist.]
[(He's maintaining this ridiculous charade with remarkable calm, considering his rare anger with the other man. Nanu doesn't intend to keep this up for too long—though he's amazed this dumbass, itchy, paste-on mustache is fooling Guzma at all.)]
Ah! So you are the bug expert! [Sounding relieved somewhat, and maybe a little appreciative, the man smiles.] I sure got lucky findin' you right quick!
It was a small l'il thing, no bigger than my hand, I suppose. Had more legs than fingers on one, though, aha-ha! Looked like it was painted all odd for a skittery fellow—coulda' sworn I saw a tiny frownin' face on its back! Like one o' those ee-mo-geese you youngin's like to use.
[(Take comfort in the fact that Nanu knows exactly how painful this is to hear. It's even worse saying it.)]
[Guzma is gonna be so pissed when he finds out he's been duped by a silly mustache. Bewildered that for whatever reason Nanu appeared utterly unfamiliar to him, but still pissed at the mustache all the same.]
You got that right, ain't no bug trainer better than me.
[He preens shamelessly about that, but there's some truth to it. He's certainly a skilled bug trainer, and one of the best.]
A spinarak, huh?
[He offers immediately. Any bug trainer should know that, but Guzma is intimately familiar with having raised his own. It certainly makes him miss his Ariados. But god was that painful to listen to. If it wasn't for this totally real Pokèmon who might be in danger, Guzma wouldn't have let him finish.]
Old people like you really oughta get with the times, yo. But considered me impressed you could say emjois relatively accurate.
[Unfolding his arms, he runs a hand through his wild hair.]
[(It's so bad. If Nanu weren't harboring anger for this, he would burst out laughing when all was said and done. As it is, that's not to say he's not enjoying this. He and Anabel are sure to have a good laugh later.)]
"Spinny-rack", eh? [(God, that was almost too much, even for him.) The man laughs, pleased with Guzma's response.] Well, I'm glad you know your stuff! I ain't up to date with all these newfangled ideas.
[The man nods again, becoming a little more serious as he...recalls.]
It was a quick'un, it was. Dartin' around this way 'n that. Spooked the townsfolk real good! They were tryin' to catch it with their boots, if you know what I mean.
[Guzma's nose crinkles at the horrific way he mispronounces the name, but otherwise doesn't comment. What an insufferable old man. A jolly fellow, but annoying. Basically the opposite of Nanu, even if Nanu could be annoying at times.]
Feh, what wimps. Scared of a Spinarak and tryin' to hurt it.
[He knows not everyone here is familiar with Pokèmon, but come on. Spinarak are more cute than scary.]
You still haven't told me where it went, I know you're old, but c'mon. Was it still hangin' in the city, or did it make a break for the woods?
[As much as he'd love to sit here and chat all day with this riveting chap, the longer he suffers this guy's awful accent, the longer that poor Spinarak is in danger.]
[It's a shame, really. The man seems to agree with Guzma, or at least it appears that way. He has the decency to look a little embarrassed at his rambling, though!]
Ah, you're right - I'm just slowin' you down with all my prattlin'! Let's see... [The man pauses to think.] That's the tricky thing, though. Last I saw it, it was in the city, y'see? A crowd had cornered it in a dead-end alley. Thing was shakin' like a leaf at all them folks.
Don't worry, sonny—I muscled right to the front o' that mob to take care of 'em myself.
[Narrowing his eyes at the older man, Guzma stares him down. Something seems a little odd about this story—let alone this man.]
Huh?! You saved the Spinarak? So then, where the hell is it?
[Now Guzma's just getting frustrated. Not only is he being delayed from the errand he was on, but now he's not even sure where this old man is going with this. The Spinarak ran away, but now it was in an alley cornered... when it shouldn't have been because it can climb walls. But furthermore, the man muscled (what a joke) his way through the crowd to save it? Does he have the bug, or did it get away?
[The man...doesn't seem deterred by Guzma's growing irritation, like he should be. Like any normal person would be. He just casually answers the same as before. Almost.]
No, no, y'hear? You gotta open your ears, son! It's just as I said. I took care of it.
[There's a trail of weird slime on one of his shoes.]
[The silence that falls between them is heavy and telling. Guzma stares down at the stranger in both disgust and disbelief, his eyes flicking to the incriminating shoe, before setting back on his mustached features. His disbelief is what keeps him from acting right away, it stuns him like a flashbomb for a few long moments.
But then his temper ignites as he accepts that this guy isn't joking. His expression twists into a feral snarl as he reaches to grab the man by the front of his shirt.]
You think this is funny, asshole?!
[There's a crazed look to Guzma—it doesn't take much to make him mad, but for this man—for this stranger to approach him like he's some friendly sort, and then rattle on in a way that seemed good natured, only for it to turn out anything but. What kind of fucked up psycho is this dude?]
You must be a fuckin' idiot to get up in my grill admittin' to shit like that. You wantin' to know what it feels like to be smashed, too?! Is that why you sought me out?!
[The ridiculous accent is dropped pretty much immediately, despite the disguise still securely in place. It might even sound familiar, though with the magic in effect, Guzma won't be able to place it. The man's still not intimidated in the least, going with the grab of his shirt almost as though he'd fully expected it to happen. There's no worry in his features, even more evident with what comes out of his mouth next.]
I don't know, I thought it was pretty fitting, in a dead-end alley like that. Call me an opportunist.
[He cocks his head slightly to the side, oddly intense eyes searching Guzma's face.]
But we're not here for how I feel. [So that's a "no", on the smashing.]
[His hand grabs the arm Guzma's using to clutch the shirt with. He's not trying to pull or push it away, though; the intent isn't clear beyond just how strong a grip this strange old man has. His fingers dig into Guzma's arm with increasing pressure.]
[At this point Guzma's head is swimming with anger. It's been a minute since he's been this angry—even finding Jill in the state that she's in didn't enrage him like this. What doesn't help at all is the lack of gratification that cowering would give him. The man offers nothing of the sort, unwavering resolve against his inferno of a temper.]
Yeah!? Keep it up, you whacked-out freak! I'll bust your damn face in!
[Guzma's free hand is white-knuckled with how tight of a fist it's in. The only thing that keeps him from getting Nanu's face intimately acquainted with his fist is what he says, and the strange familiarity of the voice that he can't place for the life of him. Not to mention how that grip is surprisingly—and painfully—strong. There's a notable wince from it, but fortunately for this lug his anger numbs him to most pain.]
The fuck you talkin' about, yo!? Better spill it—before I spill your brains out on the ground!
[What really makes this worth it is the source of Guzma's anger. It's out of respect and—dare he call it?—love for one little bug pokémon he didn't even know. Of course, it's a double-edged sword; Nanu may be a dark-type trainer, but implying he's outright killed a pokémon leaves more than a bad taste in his mouth. There's not much Nanu won't do when it comes to playing dirty, but that is one line he would never cross. If he were Guzma? He'd be just as fuming right now.]
[But hey, it's like he said. It's not about Nanu, it's about messing with Guzma. For what he put Anabel through. And this is nowhere near close to that.]
Feels like hell, doesn't it? Knowing it was the one who had its brains turned to jam and there was nothing you could do about it? [When Guzma winces, his smirk widens.] Not that I expect you to admit it. The Big Bad Guzma, immune to fear.
[A little bit of his own experience bleeds into the narrative. His grip tightens to its maximum.]
What if I'd made the stakes higher? Offed someone you know instead? Would you get the hint then?
[He's prepared to duck if Guzma ends up swinging. But the charade's nearly over, anyway. This is as far as he needed the disguise to go.]
[For all of Guzma's tough-guy posturing, all the violence and anger, he's actually a dude who cares a lot. It's hard to have anger when you don't feel things, and perhaps he feels things a bit too much. Cares too much, and is affected by more than he'd ever care to admit. The idea that this scared and defenseless Spinarak was chased down and so brutally and mercilessly killed really strikes him.]
You're damn right. [The words are growled through a wicked smile, eyes wide as he stares down at Nanu (which he still doesn't know is him) like he's nothing more than vermin. A moment later, he lets out a dark chuckle, barren of any humor at all.]
I don't fear nothin' or nobody, and it ain't gonna start with some lowlife like you!
[What Nanu says doesn't even truly sink in, all he can hear is the thumping of his heart as his adrenaline spikes with his anger. He hears the words, it's enough to make him even more angry, but he can't properly process them—so the hints that Nanu's laying almost go over his head completely. Just like the fist he's swinging at Nanu likely will since the older man was preparing for it.
The hold on his arm, the tightness of it, likewise does not register. How could it when all that Guzma has in his head right now is how he wants to smash this smug asshole's face in?]
[It's one thing these two have in common, as much as neither of them would want to think about it. Guzma had just recently mentioned how Nanu doesn't really care about most things in life, though the comment was geared toward his job. But just like the ex-Skull leader, Nanu hides all of his caring behind a different emotion. Apathy instead of anger. Self-destruction instead of...well, destruction.]
[Nanu knew going into this that he ran the extremely likely risk of being clocked in the mug by Guzma's fist. Interpol's rigorous combat training has stuck with him over the years, but of course it's declined in the past decade. Still, his reflexes are bolstered by anticipation—though it's not perfect. He manages to save his head from the knuckle sandwich, but his maneuver leaves his shoulder to take the brunt of the punch instead. It fucking smarts, but Nanu can't let that stop him.]
[Using the momentum from his duck and the iron grip he'd already set around Guzma's other arm, Nanu's next move is to attempt to wrench his arm into a hammer lock police hold. It's a gamble, but given that the other man wouldn't expect it from an older man with no apparent muscle—Nanu or not—he's hoping the element of surprise might at least buy the maneuver.]
[Leaning in to Guzma's ear, the facade finally falls—literally.]
[The irony really is that Guzma likewise chooses self-destruction, he's just a bomb in that way. Destroying everything around while also destroying himself. Had he a better upbringing, maybe he'd be less inflammatory to the world around him, but that's neither here nor there...
Guzma lets out a frustrated grunt as he misses his intended target, but at least he got something. A small victory that's soon sabotaged by Nanu's quick retaliation. Indeed he was not expecting the power and speed of this diminutive older man, thus the hammer lock slides into place with a sound of fury from Guzma.
However, that's far from the most unexpected part of this entire thing, oh no, the true flourish is when the mustache falls, and with it the spell he's been under. It's like a flood of freezing water to his brain as all familiarity flashes into it. The scene previous suddenly plays so differently in his brain than how he experienced, and it leaves him dumbfounded and stricken.]
—Nanu!? How—?
[He's so bewildered and perplexed by the reality before him, it almost seems like his anger is quelled. But that'd be a filthy lie, it is merely delayed for the moment.
And like all moments, it passes, and his anger resurfaces twofold. The air around them full of static and heat.]
The fuck are you talkin' about Nanu! I don't think you got the right to be callin' no one a lowlife with the shit you just pulled!
[Naturally Guzma isn't accepting being restrained, and he's struggling, trying to get good enough footing that he might overpower Nanu and break free.]
[What a shame it is that Nanu can't appreciate the moment for how bizarrely hilarious it really is. Later, he's sure, when he goes home sore and contemplates on whether this was worth it or not. He would say that Guzma's initial shock is enough, but it really isn't—not this time.]
[Pleased that the arm lock took, he fully intends to keep it in place as long as he can. But he knows Guzma has more brute strength, muscle, height, and definitely stamina on him, which will turn this into a worse struggle very quickly. Nanu has no intention of letting this turn into a fist-fight like the other man most likely wants it to be, but he's not intending on backing down, either. It really depends on how quickly Nanu can get his point across, if at all.]
[He doesn't want to bring his pokémon into this, either...at least not this scuffle between them. If Guzma wants to turn it into a pokémon battle, so be it; but Nanu knows a lot of the time Guzma likes to take care of things himself. How noble.]
What I just pulled is nothing compared to what you deserve.
[Nanu clamps his other hand on Guzma's other shoulder, hard. It's not going to be effective in stopping Guzma from breaking free in the first place - but it will give Nanu a chance to keep a hand on him, period, when he inevitably breaks the arm hold. He doesn't want to leave himself empty-handed without an angle of attack if it comes down to it.]
The only reason it wasn't worse is because you don't have anything else. [Besides his pokémon, which Nanu would never do anything to, fake or not.] How foolish of me to think your time home might've smartened your outlook. You've got Hala pretty fooled too, don't you?
[If this whole thing wasn't muddied by the lie of a Pokèmon's death, Guzma would likely have been able to look back and laugh about the whole thing. Unfortunately it's been soured, but for a good reason. Guzma is, in a sense, a "visual" learner, and Nanu in a sense certainly made him visualize how he made Anabel feel.
Unfortunately, it just took a dirty tactic to do it that has left both of them feeling awful about it all.]
What I deserve?! What the hell did I ever do to you, old man!? This can't be about no teasin' I ever done to you, even you ain't that fragile.
[With that other hand on his shoulder, Guzma finds new determination to break free. He's big, and has youth on Nanu to boot, so it's only a matter of time.
With Nanu mentioning Hala, that speeds things up and Guzma suddenly twists himself towards Nanu—turning on the side of his captured arm, which allows him to unlock its position and swing his unbound fist at the smaller man. He's aiming for his face, but considering his punch is during his twist, his accuracy might not be the best, and the hook is wide. Should he miss, that'd definitely give Nanu the chance to counter him.
Guzma clearly has no interest in settling this over Pokèmon, this shit's gone too personal, and he's way too mad at the moment to even conduct a battle.]
[Nanu had meant it when he said he couldn't make it any worse—at least, here in Empatheias. He couldn't claim to have done anything to anyone Guzma knows here, not that it would have made a bigger impact; nor could he claim something about someone closer to him, like Plumeria. He's not going to forget the horrible feeling of claiming he stomped a pokémon to jelly anytime soon...but he's claimed worse, and seen worse. It used to be part of his job, and he's far past becoming desensitized to doing horrible things.]
[The area keeps heating up, thanks to both Guzma and Nanu's emotional output. But something else changes, courtesy of Nanu's specific brand of intensity. Everything around them is going...dark. As if night is falling, and the there's a spotlight only shone on the two. It's gradual and subtle, without going pitch-black. Just enough to visually represent the rest of the world being dulled to their senses as they focus on each other's misery.]
[Guzma's swing misses Nanu's face, but clips his arm - the same arm where he'd gotten it in the shoulder mere moments before. With grit teeth, he manages to suppress any vocalization of pain; he's not giving Guzma the satisfaction. Nor is he going to counter with any sort of offense of his own. For him, it's defense and restraint. Hurting Guzma physically isn't what he wants.]
[So he uses that hold on Guzma's shoulder, pinching with his entire hand. He intends to use that as a brief distraction, so he can grab at the hand that was just swung at him. Just another hold to buy time as they "chat"; Nanu's own grip is strong, and if he catches Guzma's wrist, then he's going to squeeze and twist it, with the forearm to follow. And at this angle, they're face-to-face again... sans mustache, this time.]
Me? Of course not. You've never been worse than a pest to me. [Guzma's most likely never seen Nanu's eyes this intense, his expression too-calm for his anger. While Nanu has a penchant for unnerving people with his stare, it's been a long while since he's donned this kind. It's so natural he doesn't have to try.] When you decided to open your rotten mouth to Anabel? That's the problem.
[For all Guzma likes to believe himself as "hard", Nanu has him beat. Not that Guzma hasn't seen his share of messed up shit. Even so, it doesn't compare to what Nanu has had to desensitize himself to for the profession he has. Guzma has his assumptions of what goes on in that line or work, and those assumptions never prepared him for the possibility of what Nanu might do against him due to it.
It's fortunate that there aren't others really around for this spectacle, not that it'd stop it from going on, but the intensity of the heat and the sudden darkness is rather alarming. However, Guzma's so focused on what's going on that he doesn't notice the shift or temperature rising. He's way too distracted with how unfulfilling it is that he can't seem to land a hit on Nanu's face. Right now he wants to pound that stoic expression, wants to see him recoil in pain.
It matters not, particularly when a moment later Nanu squeezes his shoulder so tightly, he can't ignore the pain from it. In the next, Nanu is grasping his arm and twisting it again with surprising strength. He's such a small man, and he hardly looks like he has the strength he does, yet here he is bringing Guzma to heel. With a frustrated and angry growl, he's staring down Nanu as he further explains what this is all about.
Guzma's expression falters.]
Anabel? What the hell does she...
[And then he remembers. He remembers the last conversation he had with her, and how he joked about something he probably shouldn't have. Lead her to believe that something ill befell Nanu. It's all so ridiculous to him, and he's finding it hard to feel sympathetic.
A grin crosses his features, but it's one that's hollow and bereft of any actual joy.]
So, that's what this is about?
[He lets out a short laugh, dry and humorless.]
The fact your lay can't take a joke? Can't fuckin' deal with a little playin'? Noble Nanu here to save the damsel in distress from Big Bad Guzma, is that it!?
[His grin falls, his annoyed and aggressive expression back in full swing.]
Gimme a break.
[To most, Nanu's look, the sharpness of his gaze, would put them on edge, but to Guzma it's a challenge. It keeps him going, and now that he knows the reason for this entire thing it's just more fuel to the fire. One arm restrained, one arm free, and while the thought of striking Nanu flashes through his mind again, he goes for something else entirely.
A fist is easy enough to dodge, but what about Guzma. All of Guzma. He jerks his arm back, in an effort to fake Nanu out on trying to break free of his grasp, but without skipping a beat he attempts to full on body slam him. Hoping to take him down with his size and strength.]
[Maybe if Guzma knew some of the things Nanu's been through, it would create a modicum of respect. Yeah, fat chance. Nanu knows better than to think that; and besides, there's a reason he doesn't offer that kind of information freely. Still...he can't help but think.]
[Nanu takes care not to scoff under his breath. Anything that might make Guzma think he's gotten to him—further than what he's already done, at least. Of course. Of course that's how he'd take it and where he'd go. It's no surprise, what with the bully's inexplicable desire to tease about their relationship like a five-year-old; it just makes getting the damn point harder to jam into his ridiculously thick skull.]
I don't expect you to understand on your own. What would you know? The worst moments of your life only apply to you.
[There's no counter to Guzma's implication of their relationship; no telling him off when he calls Anabel a "damsel in distress", or making a point that she's perfectly capable of taking care of her own business, and very well has already. No, nothing like that. This isn't their usual buttons-pushing run-around. This isn't because of Guzma's usual brand of buffoonery. He crossed a line, arguably one of the only lines Nanu has that can be crossed to begin with, and Guzma doesn't fucking get it.]
[Not yet.]
[Unfortunately for the older man, Guzma's power play works. While Nanu purposefully lets go of his arm as it's jerked back, there's no time to prepare for a full-on body tackle. He can only brace himself as best he can as the larger man hurls himself forward and slams Nanu to the ground. With his head tucked forward, it doesn't impact on the ground as hard as it could have—but his back? Yeah, that does more than just smarts. Despite carefully controlling his reactions, Nanu can't stop the pained grunt from the impact. Anabel's going to be pissed it got this far.]
[Stunned, he knows he has to think of his next move quickly; otherwise he's prime for a no-holds-barred beat-down with no way out. His reaction time takes a hit from the stun, but instincts from his years of training take over. After the moments it takes to recover, his eyes snap back open after closing from the initial brace, anger and determination like a fire behind them. And he keeps talking, as though the assault never happened; the only evidence in his voice of the attack is an audible strain.]
...Would it have been a different story if that Nihilego had the chance to infect someone you actually gave a crap about?
[Oh, he knows more than he let on. And though Guzma's now got the upper hand, Nanu's not just talking shit while lying helplessly supine; one arm snaps back to whichever of Guzma's arm is closest, just as a metaphorical foothold of sorts. His other hand aims for Guzma's face. Or rather, his chin—aiming to be able to hold his jaw at literal arm's length, bypassing what could have been an implication of intent to strangle the man. And Nanu keeps going.]
One of your ex-grunts? Hala? Plumeria? Would you have felt the same fear for their life? Or would you have just appreciated the opportunity to save your own damn hide and leave them to suffer instead?
[This is a dangerous game he's taunting, Nanu knows. Clearly not above playing dirty any more than Guzma, Nanu also bends one leg at the knee as much as he can under Guzma's weight, in prime position to strike the lowest of the low if the situation starts becoming unrecoverable.]
[There's a lot of potential if these two actually had a heart to heart, unfortunately that's not likely to happen soon enough, or at all. Both are too stubborn and try too hard to close themselves off. What could be, alas...
With his tackle being a success, the force in which they hit the ground doesn't do Guzma many favors either. His one solace is the fact that Nanu acts to cushion his own impact, and that he now has the upper hand. Or so he thinks. When Nanu's hand grabs at his arm and chin, he lets out a frustrated growl. His free hand grabs at the wrist of the hand on his chin, greatly not enjoying the proximity it has to his throat.
There's a notable pause when Nanu mentions Nihilego. It strikes him, but not only because of the hypothetical situation he offers the ex-gang leader, but because he knows anything about that at all. Of course, things were different between their perspectives, to Nanu Nihilego was the only threat that Guzma had faced, the only thing that affected him in such a way. It's far from the truth, it was not just that ultra beast, but another that played in his retreat and his dismissal of Team Skull.
Everyone should know about the Necrozma bit, but not everyone should know about Nihilego. It was only him and Lusamine in that Ultra Wormhole...]
What do you want me to say? Hm?!
[He asks that, but it's honestly just a stalling tactic. He's too angry to talk emotions, or so he's telling himself. He doesn't like talking this sort of crap normally, yet here he is, on top of Nanu, angry as can be, and the old man is trying to appeal to his softer side. To his heart.]
If you think I'd abandon 'em, you're trippin'! But I don't see what that's got to do with anythin' right now!
[At least for now, they seem to be at a physical impasse, and fortunately for Nanu, less so for Guzma, he hasn't noticed the position of the other man's knee. Little does he know he's at Nanu's mercy, when it seems by all accounts the opposite.]
[He holds firm to Guzma's jaw despite the new, painful grip on his own wrist. His back is screaming. There's no question that he's going to run out of strength before Guzma does. It's only a matter of time.]
You really can't connect the dots?
[That pause is caught, though Nanu can't tell whether it's because of the hypothetical he'd asked, or because he could name Nihilego as the culprit. He doesn't have much time to dwell on it, though he takes it as some sort of good sign. The situation just isn't controlled enough to pick apart the reason, especially when he's still struggling for his own defense.]
[What else can he do? What does it take to get something through Guzma's head? Of this caliber, and after Nanu's already fucked with his head enough with a dirty trick meant to piss him off more than anything? The idea strikes him, and he first strikes it back down. It's too extreme—he's never even told the entire story to Anabel. Not in detail. Not like this. But it comes up again. And, as he struggles to maintain his grip, Nanu knows that extreme is the only thing that gets through to Guzma.]
...Let me give you a hand.
[Nanu has no reason to believe this will work, aside from the fact that weirder shit has happened in this world to begin with. But he does—else he just made a cocky remark that makes no goddamn sense and leaves Guzma thinking he's wasting their time.]
[Though they're face-to-face, he concentrates on the amulet's "system", the telepathy they've gotten equal practice in using since they arrived here. It's odd, doing it with the intended recipient right in front of him - though in a way, it feels easier. As if just looking into Guzma's eyes as he transmits the thought—the memory—is all it takes to sync minds, if only for a moment.]
[It comes easily, which has always been unfortunate. Nanu's never made any attempt to bury it or pretend it never happened; he wouldn't tolerate such disrespect from himself, no matter how much guilt he feels. There's no introduction, no "beginning" of the sordid fairytale. One moment, Guzma's grappling on top of Nanu - the next, he's looking through Nanu's eyes over a decade ago. Guzma might not even realize it right away. The only two other people who cross his vision...a tall, equally intense-looking man in a trenchcoat; and a woman in a half-suit and work blouse...only address him by "zeroes" or "chief". It isn't until Nanu's voice comes from the body Guzma's seeing through that it becomes apparent.
He sounds authoritative. He's dressed in a suit; blazer missing and sleeves rolled up. It's dark—the middle of the night. Out in wilderness that looks familiarly tropical. Nanu refers to the other man as "100-KR". They have firearms at the ready. Constantly on the lookout. The first emotion that bleeds through is tension. Then, a thought; She shouldn't be here. This isn't right. Stern instructions to the woman to be on alert; scanning the area this way and that; a creeping chill climbing up his spine.
Then...a deep roar in the distance. A sense of alarm. Yelling at the woman to stay behind them; Nanu taking the lead; a blur of foliage and the sounds of crackling branches and crunching leaves under frantic steps. Barks of orders: "Stay back! Weapons ready!" The roars getting louder...no; the group getting closer. "There!" the woman gasps. Heads spin, teeth clench. Alarm reaches its peak.
A monster looms, black as the night. Yellow markings in stark contrast, four blue eyes glowing ominously in the dark. A massive mouth—no, three? --Shit!Shoving the woman out of the way of a thick tentacle, armed with its own crunching mouth. She falls, hard; eyes wild with panic. Nanu aims his firearm-- hell! Forced to dodge from a second tentacle gnashing its teeth at his legs. Hits the ground, rolling hard. Weapons have no effect on its humongous, conveyor-belt-like maw. Blurred vision as things go south; can't see, ears ringing, flashes of pain. Fear, an unmistakable sense of fear, barely tamped down just to try and deal with this thing--
"100-KR!"
Nanu's voice. Too late. Too late, too late, too late. The woman's blood-curdling scream. Gnashing jaws. It has her. It's too late. But she's reaching forward anyway, arms outstretched, pleading with her eyes. Fear at its maximum, swirling with grief; like ice water poured down you back. Firearms are useless. Its mobile mouths cut off Nanu's rescue attempt, her hand pulled out of reach. His heart drops into his stomach. There's no blood, how can there be no blood-- It's all in the thing's mouth. 100-KR dives for her hands. Help her, SAVE HER!
The screaming abruptly stops.
He doesn't want to look. He has to look.
Her body is mangled beyond recognition, like taffy in its jaws. Her lifeless yet still-pleading eyes lock with his before the beast's mouth clamps down for one last, sickening crunch.
[The memory cuts off abruptly; like the flicker of a film reel, Guzma's back in the blink of an eye. Barely any time has passed. The last emotion that bled from the memory is a mixture of fear, helplessness, grief, and shame.]
[In the wake of the memory, and Nanu's mind still reeling, Guzma receives bits and pieces flowing from Nanu's more recent memories. Like aftershocks from an earthquake; vague echoes, recognizable only by their voices.]
[Nanu. She was just bait for the UB...]
[The man—100-KR. What choice did I have? She is reaching her limit.]
[Nanu, again. With Anabel in that condition... She'll be done for if she runs into any UBs now.]
[Broken images. Guzzlord on Poni Island. Not the past—present day. Nanu's viewpoint, running, fear, determination. A cave. A roar.]
[It's over.]
[Nanu's breathing harder. His strength hasn't given out, but reliving the memory alongside Guzma hasn't helped. He tries to keep his face stoic, fighting off a grimace, a sneer. The only reason his hands aren't trembling is because he's holding onto Guzma's arm and jaw so tightly, even tighter now, they can't.]
[Guzma is an ever flowing fountain of strength and determination, and should this have gone on any longer it's clear who would have won the scuffle, but there wouldn't have been any real winners. However, like the dark trainer he is, Nanu plays dirty, but like the man Guzma is, it's a language he knows and understands. Physical potshots aren't the way to go, that just fuels Guzma, it keeps him going, gives him fuel for his inferno of a temper. It continues to muddy the point, and knocks it further from reach.
Before Guzma knows what to do, or how to react his mind is taken over by this all encompassing memory. One that's decidedly not his. One that plays out like a nightmare before his eyes—no, not his. Nanu's. The surge of emotions, the fear grips him hard. Harder than Nanu's actual hands, and the emotional weight hits him in equal measure.
The panic, the hopelessness, the loss.
It all spirals within him, and surges through him as he experiences this horror show of a memory, this brutal death of a woman at the mouths of an Ultra Beast. The very things he had agreed to help Lusamine acquire, that he assisted in unleashing on Alola. That he so carelessly joked about to Anabel, unknowing of the tragedy behind their viciousness.
New found realization and understanding slams into him with a force that rivals the beatings from his childhood. The pain is all consuming, and even as it fades away, with flashes of other memories, of Anabel, of the Ultra Beasts, all of it, the dread lingers. The intensity of it all leaves him emotionally shook.
As he comes back to reality, he's left breathing at pace with Nanu, hard and heavy. His strength is far from spent, but he feels weak, his anger far gone now. The silence is heavy, but no where near as heavy as the guilt he now knows Nanu bears. He can't even complain about the pain of the hand on his jaw, with how tight it's holding him.
For his part, he releases Nanu's arm: his wordless surrender.]
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golisolation) wrote2010-07-17 11:01 am
no subject
[The mysterious mustachioed man perks up when Guzma finally takes an interest. He nods and appears to think back to the very definitely real memory of this bug that super does exist.]
[(He's maintaining this ridiculous charade with remarkable calm, considering his rare anger with the other man. Nanu doesn't intend to keep this up for too long—though he's amazed this dumbass, itchy, paste-on mustache is fooling Guzma at all.)]
Ah! So you are the bug expert! [Sounding relieved somewhat, and maybe a little appreciative, the man smiles.] I sure got lucky findin' you right quick!
It was a small l'il thing, no bigger than my hand, I suppose. Had more legs than fingers on one, though, aha-ha! Looked like it was painted all odd for a skittery fellow—coulda' sworn I saw a tiny frownin' face on its back! Like one o' those ee-mo-geese you youngin's like to use.
[(Take comfort in the fact that Nanu knows exactly how painful this is to hear. It's even worse saying it.)]
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You got that right, ain't no bug trainer better than me.
[He preens shamelessly about that, but there's some truth to it. He's certainly a skilled bug trainer, and one of the best.]
A spinarak, huh?
[He offers immediately. Any bug trainer should know that, but Guzma is intimately familiar with having raised his own. It certainly makes him miss his Ariados. But god was that painful to listen to. If it wasn't for this totally real Pokèmon who might be in danger, Guzma wouldn't have let him finish.]
Old people like you really oughta get with the times, yo. But considered me impressed you could say emjois relatively accurate.
[Unfolding his arms, he runs a hand through his wild hair.]
So, where'd it go?
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[(It's so bad. If Nanu weren't harboring anger for this, he would burst out laughing when all was said and done. As it is, that's not to say he's not enjoying this. He and Anabel are sure to have a good laugh later.)]
"Spinny-rack", eh? [(God, that was almost too much, even for him.) The man laughs, pleased with Guzma's response.] Well, I'm glad you know your stuff! I ain't up to date with all these newfangled ideas.
[The man nods again, becoming a little more serious as he...recalls.]
It was a quick'un, it was. Dartin' around this way 'n that. Spooked the townsfolk real good! They were tryin' to catch it with their boots, if you know what I mean.
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Feh, what wimps. Scared of a Spinarak and tryin' to hurt it.
[He knows not everyone here is familiar with Pokèmon, but come on. Spinarak are more cute than scary.]
You still haven't told me where it went, I know you're old, but c'mon. Was it still hangin' in the city, or did it make a break for the woods?
[As much as he'd love to sit here and chat all day with this riveting chap, the longer he suffers this guy's awful accent, the longer that poor Spinarak is in danger.]
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[It's a shame, really. The man seems to agree with Guzma, or at least it appears that way. He has the decency to look a little embarrassed at his rambling, though!]
Ah, you're right - I'm just slowin' you down with all my prattlin'! Let's see... [The man pauses to think.] That's the tricky thing, though. Last I saw it, it was in the city, y'see? A crowd had cornered it in a dead-end alley. Thing was shakin' like a leaf at all them folks.
Don't worry, sonny—I muscled right to the front o' that mob to take care of 'em myself.
no subject
Huh?! You saved the Spinarak? So then, where the hell is it?
[Now Guzma's just getting frustrated. Not only is he being delayed from the errand he was on, but now he's not even sure where this old man is going with this. The Spinarak ran away, but now it was in an alley cornered... when it shouldn't have been because it can climb walls. But furthermore, the man muscled (what a joke) his way through the crowd to save it? Does he have the bug, or did it get away?
Which is it?!]
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[The man...doesn't seem deterred by Guzma's growing irritation, like he should be. Like any normal person would be. He just casually answers the same as before. Almost.]
No, no, y'hear? You gotta open your ears, son! It's just as I said. I took care of it.
[There's a trail of weird slime on one of his shoes.]
[His smile doesn't seem as friendly, anymore.]
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But then his temper ignites as he accepts that this guy isn't joking. His expression twists into a feral snarl as he reaches to grab the man by the front of his shirt.]
You think this is funny, asshole?!
[There's a crazed look to Guzma—it doesn't take much to make him mad, but for this man—for this stranger to approach him like he's some friendly sort, and then rattle on in a way that seemed good natured, only for it to turn out anything but. What kind of fucked up psycho is this dude?]
You must be a fuckin' idiot to get up in my grill admittin' to shit like that. You wantin' to know what it feels like to be smashed, too?! Is that why you sought me out?!
no subject
[The ridiculous accent is dropped pretty much immediately, despite the disguise still securely in place. It might even sound familiar, though with the magic in effect, Guzma won't be able to place it. The man's still not intimidated in the least, going with the grab of his shirt almost as though he'd fully expected it to happen. There's no worry in his features, even more evident with what comes out of his mouth next.]
I don't know, I thought it was pretty fitting, in a dead-end alley like that. Call me an opportunist.
[He cocks his head slightly to the side, oddly intense eyes searching Guzma's face.]
But we're not here for how I feel. [So that's a "no", on the smashing.]
[His hand grabs the arm Guzma's using to clutch the shirt with. He's not trying to pull or push it away, though; the intent isn't clear beyond just how strong a grip this strange old man has. His fingers dig into Guzma's arm with increasing pressure.]
No, this is more about you.
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Yeah!? Keep it up, you whacked-out freak! I'll bust your damn face in!
[Guzma's free hand is white-knuckled with how tight of a fist it's in. The only thing that keeps him from getting Nanu's face intimately acquainted with his fist is what he says, and the strange familiarity of the voice that he can't place for the life of him. Not to mention how that grip is surprisingly—and painfully—strong. There's a notable wince from it, but fortunately for this lug his anger numbs him to most pain.]
The fuck you talkin' about, yo!? Better spill it—before I spill your brains out on the ground!
no subject
[What really makes this worth it is the source of Guzma's anger. It's out of respect and—dare he call it?—love for one little bug pokémon he didn't even know. Of course, it's a double-edged sword; Nanu may be a dark-type trainer, but implying he's outright killed a pokémon leaves more than a bad taste in his mouth. There's not much Nanu won't do when it comes to playing dirty, but that is one line he would never cross. If he were Guzma? He'd be just as fuming right now.]
[But hey, it's like he said. It's not about Nanu, it's about messing with Guzma. For what he put Anabel through. And this is nowhere near close to that.]
Feels like hell, doesn't it? Knowing it was the one who had its brains turned to jam and there was nothing you could do about it? [When Guzma winces, his smirk widens.] Not that I expect you to admit it. The Big Bad Guzma, immune to fear.
[A little bit of his own experience bleeds into the narrative. His grip tightens to its maximum.]
What if I'd made the stakes higher? Offed someone you know instead? Would you get the hint then?
[He's prepared to duck if Guzma ends up swinging. But the charade's nearly over, anyway. This is as far as he needed the disguise to go.]
no subject
You're damn right. [The words are growled through a wicked smile, eyes wide as he stares down at Nanu (which he still doesn't know is him) like he's nothing more than vermin. A moment later, he lets out a dark chuckle, barren of any humor at all.]
I don't fear nothin' or nobody, and it ain't gonna start with some lowlife like you!
[What Nanu says doesn't even truly sink in, all he can hear is the thumping of his heart as his adrenaline spikes with his anger. He hears the words, it's enough to make him even more angry, but he can't properly process them—so the hints that Nanu's laying almost go over his head completely. Just like the fist he's swinging at Nanu likely will since the older man was preparing for it.
The hold on his arm, the tightness of it, likewise does not register. How could it when all that Guzma has in his head right now is how he wants to smash this smug asshole's face in?]
1/2
[It's one thing these two have in common, as much as neither of them would want to think about it. Guzma had just recently mentioned how Nanu doesn't really care about most things in life, though the comment was geared toward his job. But just like the ex-Skull leader, Nanu hides all of his caring behind a different emotion. Apathy instead of anger. Self-destruction instead of...well, destruction.]
[Nanu knew going into this that he ran the extremely likely risk of being clocked in the mug by Guzma's fist. Interpol's rigorous combat training has stuck with him over the years, but of course it's declined in the past decade. Still, his reflexes are bolstered by anticipation—though it's not perfect. He manages to save his head from the knuckle sandwich, but his maneuver leaves his shoulder to take the brunt of the punch instead. It fucking smarts, but Nanu can't let that stop him.]
[Using the momentum from his duck and the iron grip he'd already set around Guzma's other arm, Nanu's next move is to attempt to wrench his arm into a hammer lock police hold. It's a gamble, but given that the other man wouldn't expect it from an older man with no apparent muscle—Nanu or not—he's hoping the element of surprise might at least buy the maneuver.]
[Leaning in to Guzma's ear, the facade finally falls—literally.]
no subject
You want to talk lowlives? Why don't we start with you?
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Guzma lets out a frustrated grunt as he misses his intended target, but at least he got something. A small victory that's soon sabotaged by Nanu's quick retaliation. Indeed he was not expecting the power and speed of this diminutive older man, thus the hammer lock slides into place with a sound of fury from Guzma.
However, that's far from the most unexpected part of this entire thing, oh no, the true flourish is when the mustache falls, and with it the spell he's been under. It's like a flood of freezing water to his brain as all familiarity flashes into it. The scene previous suddenly plays so differently in his brain than how he experienced, and it leaves him dumbfounded and stricken.]
—Nanu!? How—?
[He's so bewildered and perplexed by the reality before him, it almost seems like his anger is quelled. But that'd be a filthy lie, it is merely delayed for the moment.
And like all moments, it passes, and his anger resurfaces twofold. The air around them full of static and heat.]
The fuck are you talkin' about Nanu! I don't think you got the right to be callin' no one a lowlife with the shit you just pulled!
[Naturally Guzma isn't accepting being restrained, and he's struggling, trying to get good enough footing that he might overpower Nanu and break free.]
no subject
[Pleased that the arm lock took, he fully intends to keep it in place as long as he can. But he knows Guzma has more brute strength, muscle, height, and definitely stamina on him, which will turn this into a worse struggle very quickly. Nanu has no intention of letting this turn into a fist-fight like the other man most likely wants it to be, but he's not intending on backing down, either. It really depends on how quickly Nanu can get his point across, if at all.]
[He doesn't want to bring his pokémon into this, either...at least not this scuffle between them. If Guzma wants to turn it into a pokémon battle, so be it; but Nanu knows a lot of the time Guzma likes to take care of things himself. How noble.]
What I just pulled is nothing compared to what you deserve.
[Nanu clamps his other hand on Guzma's other shoulder, hard. It's not going to be effective in stopping Guzma from breaking free in the first place - but it will give Nanu a chance to keep a hand on him, period, when he inevitably breaks the arm hold. He doesn't want to leave himself empty-handed without an angle of attack if it comes down to it.]
The only reason it wasn't worse is because you don't have anything else. [Besides his pokémon, which Nanu would never do anything to, fake or not.] How foolish of me to think your time home might've smartened your outlook. You've got Hala pretty fooled too, don't you?
no subject
Unfortunately, it just took a dirty tactic to do it that has left both of them feeling awful about it all.]
What I deserve?! What the hell did I ever do to you, old man!? This can't be about no teasin' I ever done to you, even you ain't that fragile.
[With that other hand on his shoulder, Guzma finds new determination to break free. He's big, and has youth on Nanu to boot, so it's only a matter of time.
With Nanu mentioning Hala, that speeds things up and Guzma suddenly twists himself towards Nanu—turning on the side of his captured arm, which allows him to unlock its position and swing his unbound fist at the smaller man. He's aiming for his face, but considering his punch is during his twist, his accuracy might not be the best, and the hook is wide. Should he miss, that'd definitely give Nanu the chance to counter him.
Guzma clearly has no interest in settling this over Pokèmon, this shit's gone too personal, and he's way too mad at the moment to even conduct a battle.]
no subject
[The area keeps heating up, thanks to both Guzma and Nanu's emotional output. But something else changes, courtesy of Nanu's specific brand of intensity. Everything around them is going...dark. As if night is falling, and the there's a spotlight only shone on the two. It's gradual and subtle, without going pitch-black. Just enough to visually represent the rest of the world being dulled to their senses as they focus on each other's misery.]
[Guzma's swing misses Nanu's face, but clips his arm - the same arm where he'd gotten it in the shoulder mere moments before. With grit teeth, he manages to suppress any vocalization of pain; he's not giving Guzma the satisfaction. Nor is he going to counter with any sort of offense of his own. For him, it's defense and restraint. Hurting Guzma physically isn't what he wants.]
[So he uses that hold on Guzma's shoulder, pinching with his entire hand. He intends to use that as a brief distraction, so he can grab at the hand that was just swung at him. Just another hold to buy time as they "chat"; Nanu's own grip is strong, and if he catches Guzma's wrist, then he's going to squeeze and twist it, with the forearm to follow. And at this angle, they're face-to-face again... sans mustache, this time.]
Me? Of course not. You've never been worse than a pest to me. [Guzma's most likely never seen Nanu's eyes this intense, his expression too-calm for his anger. While Nanu has a penchant for unnerving people with his stare, it's been a long while since he's donned this kind. It's so natural he doesn't have to try.] When you decided to open your rotten mouth to Anabel? That's the problem.
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It's fortunate that there aren't others really around for this spectacle, not that it'd stop it from going on, but the intensity of the heat and the sudden darkness is rather alarming. However, Guzma's so focused on what's going on that he doesn't notice the shift or temperature rising. He's way too distracted with how unfulfilling it is that he can't seem to land a hit on Nanu's face. Right now he wants to pound that stoic expression, wants to see him recoil in pain.
It matters not, particularly when a moment later Nanu squeezes his shoulder so tightly, he can't ignore the pain from it. In the next, Nanu is grasping his arm and twisting it again with surprising strength. He's such a small man, and he hardly looks like he has the strength he does, yet here he is bringing Guzma to heel. With a frustrated and angry growl, he's staring down Nanu as he further explains what this is all about.
Guzma's expression falters.]
Anabel? What the hell does she...
[And then he remembers. He remembers the last conversation he had with her, and how he joked about something he probably shouldn't have. Lead her to believe that something ill befell Nanu. It's all so ridiculous to him, and he's finding it hard to feel sympathetic.
A grin crosses his features, but it's one that's hollow and bereft of any actual joy.]
So, that's what this is about?
[He lets out a short laugh, dry and humorless.]
The fact your lay can't take a joke? Can't fuckin' deal with a little playin'? Noble Nanu here to save the damsel in distress from Big Bad Guzma, is that it!?
[His grin falls, his annoyed and aggressive expression back in full swing.]
Gimme a break.
[To most, Nanu's look, the sharpness of his gaze, would put them on edge, but to Guzma it's a challenge. It keeps him going, and now that he knows the reason for this entire thing it's just more fuel to the fire. One arm restrained, one arm free, and while the thought of striking Nanu flashes through his mind again, he goes for something else entirely.
A fist is easy enough to dodge, but what about Guzma. All of Guzma. He jerks his arm back, in an effort to fake Nanu out on trying to break free of his grasp, but without skipping a beat he attempts to full on body slam him. Hoping to take him down with his size and strength.]
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[Nanu takes care not to scoff under his breath. Anything that might make Guzma think he's gotten to him—further than what he's already done, at least. Of course. Of course that's how he'd take it and where he'd go. It's no surprise, what with the bully's inexplicable desire to tease about their relationship like a five-year-old; it just makes getting the damn point harder to jam into his ridiculously thick skull.]
I don't expect you to understand on your own. What would you know? The worst moments of your life only apply to you.
[There's no counter to Guzma's implication of their relationship; no telling him off when he calls Anabel a "damsel in distress", or making a point that she's perfectly capable of taking care of her own business, and very well has already. No, nothing like that. This isn't their usual buttons-pushing run-around. This isn't because of Guzma's usual brand of buffoonery. He crossed a line, arguably one of the only lines Nanu has that can be crossed to begin with, and Guzma doesn't fucking get it.]
[Not yet.]
[Unfortunately for the older man, Guzma's power play works. While Nanu purposefully lets go of his arm as it's jerked back, there's no time to prepare for a full-on body tackle. He can only brace himself as best he can as the larger man hurls himself forward and slams Nanu to the ground. With his head tucked forward, it doesn't impact on the ground as hard as it could have—but his back? Yeah, that does more than just smarts. Despite carefully controlling his reactions, Nanu can't stop the pained grunt from the impact. Anabel's going to be pissed it got this far.]
[Stunned, he knows he has to think of his next move quickly; otherwise he's prime for a no-holds-barred beat-down with no way out. His reaction time takes a hit from the stun, but instincts from his years of training take over. After the moments it takes to recover, his eyes snap back open after closing from the initial brace, anger and determination like a fire behind them. And he keeps talking, as though the assault never happened; the only evidence in his voice of the attack is an audible strain.]
...Would it have been a different story if that Nihilego had the chance to infect someone you actually gave a crap about?
[Oh, he knows more than he let on. And though Guzma's now got the upper hand, Nanu's not just talking shit while lying helplessly supine; one arm snaps back to whichever of Guzma's arm is closest, just as a metaphorical foothold of sorts. His other hand aims for Guzma's face. Or rather, his chin—aiming to be able to hold his jaw at literal arm's length, bypassing what could have been an implication of intent to strangle the man. And Nanu keeps going.]
One of your ex-grunts? Hala? Plumeria? Would you have felt the same fear for their life? Or would you have just appreciated the opportunity to save your own damn hide and leave them to suffer instead?
[This is a dangerous game he's taunting, Nanu knows. Clearly not above playing dirty any more than Guzma, Nanu also bends one leg at the knee as much as he can under Guzma's weight, in prime position to strike the lowest of the low if the situation starts becoming unrecoverable.]
You're the joke.
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With his tackle being a success, the force in which they hit the ground doesn't do Guzma many favors either. His one solace is the fact that Nanu acts to cushion his own impact, and that he now has the upper hand. Or so he thinks. When Nanu's hand grabs at his arm and chin, he lets out a frustrated growl. His free hand grabs at the wrist of the hand on his chin, greatly not enjoying the proximity it has to his throat.
There's a notable pause when Nanu mentions Nihilego. It strikes him, but not only because of the hypothetical situation he offers the ex-gang leader, but because he knows anything about that at all. Of course, things were different between their perspectives, to Nanu Nihilego was the only threat that Guzma had faced, the only thing that affected him in such a way. It's far from the truth, it was not just that ultra beast, but another that played in his retreat and his dismissal of Team Skull.
Everyone should know about the Necrozma bit, but not everyone should know about Nihilego. It was only him and Lusamine in that Ultra Wormhole...]
What do you want me to say? Hm?!
[He asks that, but it's honestly just a stalling tactic. He's too angry to talk emotions, or so he's telling himself. He doesn't like talking this sort of crap normally, yet here he is, on top of Nanu, angry as can be, and the old man is trying to appeal to his softer side. To his heart.]
If you think I'd abandon 'em, you're trippin'! But I don't see what that's got to do with anythin' right now!
[At least for now, they seem to be at a physical impasse, and fortunately for Nanu, less so for Guzma, he hasn't noticed the position of the other man's knee. Little does he know he's at Nanu's mercy, when it seems by all accounts the opposite.]
1/3 I'M STILL SORRY FOR THIS NOVEL
You really can't connect the dots?
[That pause is caught, though Nanu can't tell whether it's because of the hypothetical he'd asked, or because he could name Nihilego as the culprit. He doesn't have much time to dwell on it, though he takes it as some sort of good sign. The situation just isn't controlled enough to pick apart the reason, especially when he's still struggling for his own defense.]
[What else can he do? What does it take to get something through Guzma's head? Of this caliber, and after Nanu's already fucked with his head enough with a dirty trick meant to piss him off more than anything? The idea strikes him, and he first strikes it back down. It's too extreme—he's never even told the entire story to Anabel. Not in detail. Not like this. But it comes up again. And, as he struggles to maintain his grip, Nanu knows that extreme is the only thing that gets through to Guzma.]
...Let me give you a hand.
[Nanu has no reason to believe this will work, aside from the fact that weirder shit has happened in this world to begin with. But he does—else he just made a cocky remark that makes no goddamn sense and leaves Guzma thinking he's wasting their time.]
[Though they're face-to-face, he concentrates on the amulet's "system", the telepathy they've gotten equal practice in using since they arrived here. It's odd, doing it with the intended recipient right in front of him - though in a way, it feels easier. As if just looking into Guzma's eyes as he transmits the thought—the memory—is all it takes to sync minds, if only for a moment.]
2/3
He sounds authoritative. He's dressed in a suit; blazer missing and sleeves rolled up. It's dark—the middle of the night. Out in wilderness that looks familiarly tropical. Nanu refers to the other man as "100-KR". They have firearms at the ready. Constantly on the lookout. The first emotion that bleeds through is tension. Then, a thought; She shouldn't be here. This isn't right. Stern instructions to the woman to be on alert; scanning the area this way and that; a creeping chill climbing up his spine.
Then...a deep roar in the distance. A sense of alarm. Yelling at the woman to stay behind them; Nanu taking the lead; a blur of foliage and the sounds of crackling branches and crunching leaves under frantic steps. Barks of orders: "Stay back! Weapons ready!" The roars getting louder...no; the group getting closer. "There!" the woman gasps. Heads spin, teeth clench. Alarm reaches its peak.
A monster looms, black as the night. Yellow markings in stark contrast, four blue eyes glowing ominously in the dark. A massive mouth—no, three? --Shit! Shoving the woman out of the way of a thick tentacle, armed with its own crunching mouth. She falls, hard; eyes wild with panic. Nanu aims his firearm-- hell! Forced to dodge from a second tentacle gnashing its teeth at his legs. Hits the ground, rolling hard. Weapons have no effect on its humongous, conveyor-belt-like maw. Blurred vision as things go south; can't see, ears ringing, flashes of pain. Fear, an unmistakable sense of fear, barely tamped down just to try and deal with this thing--
"100-KR!"
Nanu's voice. Too late. Too late, too late, too late. The woman's blood-curdling scream. Gnashing jaws. It has her. It's too late. But she's reaching forward anyway, arms outstretched, pleading with her eyes. Fear at its maximum, swirling with grief; like ice water poured down you back. Firearms are useless. Its mobile mouths cut off Nanu's rescue attempt, her hand pulled out of reach. His heart drops into his stomach. There's no blood, how can there be no blood-- It's all in the thing's mouth. 100-KR dives for her hands. Help her, SAVE HER!
The screaming abruptly stops.
He doesn't want to look. He has to look.
Her body is mangled beyond recognition, like taffy in its jaws. Her lifeless yet still-pleading eyes lock with his before the beast's mouth clamps down for one last, sickening crunch.
Nanu yells.]
3/3
[In the wake of the memory, and Nanu's mind still reeling, Guzma receives bits and pieces flowing from Nanu's more recent memories. Like aftershocks from an earthquake; vague echoes, recognizable only by their voices.]
[Nanu. She was just bait for the UB...]
[The man—100-KR. What choice did I have? She is reaching her limit.]
[Nanu, again. With Anabel in that condition... She'll be done for if she runs into any UBs now.]
[Broken images. Guzzlord on Poni Island. Not the past—present day. Nanu's viewpoint, running, fear, determination. A cave. A roar.]
[It's over.]
[Nanu's breathing harder. His strength hasn't given out, but reliving the memory alongside Guzma hasn't helped. He tries to keep his face stoic, fighting off a grimace, a sneer. The only reason his hands aren't trembling is because he's holding onto Guzma's arm and jaw so tightly, even tighter now, they can't.]
[He says nothing.]
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[Guzma is an ever flowing fountain of strength and determination, and should this have gone on any longer it's clear who would have won the scuffle, but there wouldn't have been any real winners. However, like the dark trainer he is, Nanu plays dirty, but like the man Guzma is, it's a language he knows and understands. Physical potshots aren't the way to go, that just fuels Guzma, it keeps him going, gives him fuel for his inferno of a temper. It continues to muddy the point, and knocks it further from reach.
Before Guzma knows what to do, or how to react his mind is taken over by this all encompassing memory. One that's decidedly not his. One that plays out like a nightmare before his eyes—no, not his. Nanu's. The surge of emotions, the fear grips him hard. Harder than Nanu's actual hands, and the emotional weight hits him in equal measure.
The panic, the hopelessness, the loss.
It all spirals within him, and surges through him as he experiences this horror show of a memory, this brutal death of a woman at the mouths of an Ultra Beast. The very things he had agreed to help Lusamine acquire, that he assisted in unleashing on Alola. That he so carelessly joked about to Anabel, unknowing of the tragedy behind their viciousness.
New found realization and understanding slams into him with a force that rivals the beatings from his childhood. The pain is all consuming, and even as it fades away, with flashes of other memories, of Anabel, of the Ultra Beasts, all of it, the dread lingers. The intensity of it all leaves him emotionally shook.
As he comes back to reality, he's left breathing at pace with Nanu, hard and heavy. His strength is far from spent, but he feels weak, his anger far gone now. The silence is heavy, but no where near as heavy as the guilt he now knows Nanu bears. He can't even complain about the pain of the hand on his jaw, with how tight it's holding him.
For his part, he releases Nanu's arm: his wordless surrender.]
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comes back weeks late w starbucks
If the starbucks is a strawberry horchata ur 4given
walks out another week later sipping definitely not that
How dare you