[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.]
[It's hard to tell what's worse. Living it, in the moment, in real-time... or living with it for years and years, the memory never fading. The responsibility on his shoulders, weighing him down almost physically. Knowing that he could have stopped it, knowing that his superiors set the entire thing up on purpose.]
[Those parts don't come across, though. This was more than enough, and Guzma doesn't need to delve even deeper into Nanu's reason for living the way he does.]
[He can see it on the other man's face. Something he would never expect Guzma to be able to experience, let alone show even a sliver of the emotions running through his mind. Their breathing is matched, the horror still fresh. Nanu has had a decade of experience to lock the memory back up and continue on with his life. Guzma doesn't have the same luxury.]
[When Guzma drops his hold, so does Nanu. His arms fall to the ground like deadweight. The only measure he keeps in place is that bent knee of his—but at this point, he's not expecting to use it. Without any kind of hold anymore, Nanu's flat on his back and 100% vulnerable. It speaks volumes that based on Guzma's reaction, he's trusting him not to attack further. His eyes are less piercing, the fire snuffed out completely. He feels his age again. Much like the ill-fated team member, his fight is lost.]
[He swallows. There's not much you can say, after something like that.]
...Do you get it now?
[His voice conveys his equal loss of anger well. It's not accusatory, nor snappy. Nanu sounds utterly tired; emotional exhaustion befitting of a decade's worth of guilt.]
I refuse...to let that happen to Anabel. She would have...been done for. [He's taking pauses, as his breathing very slowly eases up. His eyes glance away from Guzma's for the first time since their confrontation, leaving him staring at the sky.] ...I went in her place. And when I go home...that's what I'm returning to.
[Nanu leaves the original question unvoiced for a second time. Does he get it now? What Anabel must have thought...must have gone through within seconds of Guzma's careless joke?]
[Having that memory implanted in his head is certainly something he's going to have to learn to deal with. For now, it's too fresh, too new, and his mind continues to focus on the details of it. Remembering how it felt, even though the emotions were alien to him. Both because that sort of loss and fear was unlike anything he's experienced, while likewise still being something he himself did not. Like phantom pains in a limb long since gone, but for a limb that never existed in the first place.
With Nanu's hold relinquished, and the older man leaving himself entirely vulnerable, Guzma has ample opportunity to attack him. To release that anger he wanted to moments prior. But the anger is gone, replaced by guilt that isn't fully his own. In short, that memory exchange has certainly fucked him up to a degree he didn't ever anticipate. Slowly he finds himself steadying his breathing, as the intensity of it all wanes.
Nanu's question goes unanswered at first. He stares down at him with a complicated expression, letting the other talk further as if he's mulling over the answer. Not daring to interrupt him, even as he takes pauses between his words.
Once he finishes, the implied question certainly noted, Guzma takes the time to move off of him, but he doesn't stand. Instead, he sits besides him, legs crossed under each other with his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked forward before him as they focus on nothing. He almost looks zoned out, honestly.
Seemingly to be at a loss for words for once in his life, the silence persists for a few long moments. It's an odd feeling, but that's par the course in this shitshow of a situation. He draws in a breath through his nose, before letting it out—slow and even—through his mouth. It's shaky, and telling of the answer before he even says it, but the words certainly serve the purpose better:]
Had I known—had I even a clue...
[With an aggravated sound, a hand grasps at his wild hair, his face scrunching with self-aimed frustration. He doesn't finish that sentence, because it sounds too much like an excuse. It sounds too much like a lie to skirt responsibility, and he's trying to stop that, isn't he? The truth is, he did know the dangers of the Ultra Beasts. He knew what people had to face because of Lusamine—because of him. He might not have known those details, known of that specific tragic event... but he's not as much of an idiot as one might assume.
Maybe he shouldn't have joked about Nanu's life like that. Not when the subject matter was nothing to joke about, not when it weighs as heavy as it does on everyone involved. Himself included.
Finally he continues, that hand still holding tight to his hair, as if he's keeping himself on a leash:]
Look—I didn't mean no harm. But that don't change the harm done. I get it.
[In a way, Nanu does feel bad about this. He'll come to regret it later, even though in the moment it seemed like the last option. No one should have to live with that memory. It's something he and Looker should have to take the burden of. He can only find solace in the fact that Guzma's awareness of the event will be fully erased once (if) they're back home again.]
[Here, now? He hopes the fact that it's not Guzma's natural memory will make it fade over time.]
[When the other man finally releases him fully, Nanu can actually relax—or as much as he can, right now. His leg falls back into a straightened position, leaving him completely supine in the dirt. In his peripheral, he sees Guzma sit down next to him, as his gaze is still unfocused on the sky. Slowly, his breathing eases toward normalcy again.]
Yeah, well. [Nanu lets out a large breath; a sigh combined with a sort of reset to his breathing.] You aren't supposed to.
[There's a double meaning there: Guzma shouldn't know in the first place, and Nanu shouldn't have shown him the memory at all. The way his voice takes on a regretful tone could imply either one. He's already thinking he owes Guzma an apology... but maybe not right this second.]
[Nanu turns when he notices movement, and frowns deeper when he sees Guzma grab his hair. Despite his dislike of the young man, the self-harming tendencies he's seen have never made him happy. He returns his gaze to the sky, before closing his eyes completely.]
Hard to mean no harm when you imply someone she holds dear didn't make it. [Accusing him further really won't help right now, he knows. But it's voiced like a fact, with no attack behind it; still just...tired. And like he knows Guzma is most likely already aware of the fact, despite how he decided to phrase it.] If I had come over like some sort of diplomat and tried to talk it out with you like a normal human being, would you have realized it the same way?
[Of course, that would be pushing aside how Guzma first handled it to Anabel herself when it first happened at all... But they're long past that, now. Like whiplash, their anger snapped to near-catatonia in the blink of an eye, leaving the two men to sort it out as equals for once.]
[It's hard for Guzma to be mad about Nanu showing him this memory. Sure, it's left him stunned and maybe a little bit emotionally compromised, but the vulnerability of the act strikes Guzma even more. Nanu could have shunned him—he and Anabel both. He could have given up on Guzma, or merely punished him without reprieve. Not to say he didn't punish him, and that this wasn't it's own form of punishment. It's also a strange form of kindness, even if that in itself is a weird way to look at it.
An extreme measure, for sure, but Nanu shared something dark and deep with Guzma to make him understand, when he didn't have to make him understand. He didn't have to do any of that, he could have just been angry, lashed at him, mistreated him and left it at that. He didn't.
Guzma's not sure if the memory will fade, it feels like it's not going anywhere any time soon, but the details will likely fade, leaving behind an impression more than anything.]
Yeah, well what options were I givin' ya?
[He's aware, very aware of how out of hand he can get. A point of pride in the past, but now it's a point of responsibility. Trying to keep himself a bit more reined in is pretty hard, especially when he doesn't have his usual aid: Plumeria. There's Jill, of course, but even she's not here.
The reminder leaves him gripping his hair a bit tighter—but then he lets it go, letting his arm fall back into its former place. It's unfortunate how his violent tendencies are even self-aimed, but it's also unfortunate in that he believes it helps him keep in control, when in reality he's losing control.]
I know—I know.
[He huffs, it's not as indignant as it might have been any other time, and its frustration isn't even at Nanu, it's at himself. There's a lot of unlearning he's still got to do. Even if he wants to tell others he'll never change, that he's always gonna be Big Bad Guzma! The reality is, the fact of the matter is he's trying to do better. He'll never make a full turn around, he knows that, but he can do better.
Nanu's question leaves him silent as he considers it. He wants to say yes, but that's because a childish part of him still feels entirely victimized in this whole thing. He knows if the answer was truly "yes", then Nanu would be left to feel like an asshole who went too far. It'd be an empty form of vindication that he'd regret later, and fortunately the traumatic calm Nanu's shared memory brought him allows him to ignore that knee-jerk answer.]
Probably not. I know the joke was off-color, but that's the sorta humor I'm used to. The sorta shit that me and my homies did to get by. It was easier to laugh at and joke about the rotten shit goin' on, y'know, not take shit too seriously, that way it didn't feel like it affected us as much.
[They romanticized such negativity, desensitized to what most would be appalled by. They were all sensitive kids, but their sensitivity was different than most, and that's honestly where this whole thing came from. Oddly enough, it's feeling easier and easier to just talk to Nanu. Likely because of the vulnerability the other man had shown Guzma.
Not that he wants to spill his guts to him, but here's a chance to make things right, or as right as they can be. And Guzma wants that.]
I ain't makin' no excuse, don't get me wrong. Just explainin' myself. Anabel's fine, I wouldn't intentionally do nothin' to hurt her, she don't deserve that. I wanted to mess with her a li'l, but my choice on what about wasn't great, I can admit that.
[He lets out a sigh, before looking over at Nanu, his mouth pressing to a thin line as he grimaces. It's hard. Hard to admit when you're wrong, after spending almost a decade running from everything: his dad, authorities, responsibility. Who knew his greatest challenge in life would be acting like an adult?]
I was too caught off guard by my own mistake and her reaction that it felt easier to get mad at her for not gettin' it; even though there's no reason she should have.
[Shunning Guzma was certainly an idea that's crossed Nanu's mind before. Just dealing with him from time to time was enough, but his antics had never caused this level of malicious pain before—not even back when the only world they knew was their own. And considering who it affected, shunning wasn't good enough. Shunning wouldn't have told Guzma anything except that he'd won his one-sided game, and it definitely wouldn't have gotten him to realize exactly what pain he had carelessly inflicted. Revenge is a hell of a drug.]
[It just so happens that the eventual solution went hand-in-hand with baring Nanu's darkest and most well-kept secret. And the aforementioned regret he's already starting to feel stems largely from the decision being a split-second, emotionally driven one. Guzma's change of heart is ultimately what they both needed, but a side-effect of Nanu's brand of equally malicious revenge. It's what he truly wanted, deep down. He just needs to come to terms with Guzma's new insight into Nanu's mind.]
[The admission of his self-awareness is, admittedly, nice. Any self-awareness at all is a sad sort of refreshing in his presence. Nanu doesn't know if this has always been something that Guzma's known on some sort of level in the back of that hard head of his, or if it's a completely new concept earned from his experience back home. Either way, the price it takes to reveal is way too high.]
[The honesty is refreshing, too—though it feels more like a sudden splash of cold water. Ultimately, it ends up feeling nice on a hot summer day, but the initial impact is still a biting shock to your system.]
You think you and your gang are the only ones? [Nanu makes a noise between a snort and a scoff.] I've lived off of morbid quips for years.
[And then a sigh.] And believe me, I know what it's like to take things too far.
[But not...that far. Though, even if he had...]
Thing is, if you hadn't acted like a child once you realized your mistake, we wouldn't have had to have this little song and dance. [Guzma just said he's not making excuses, but Nanu still feels like it needs saying out loud.] Anabel doesn't like you, but if you had just avoided doubling-down and blaming her for believing exactly what only you would know...
[Yeah, he gets it. It's hard not to really rub in the fact, though. He goes quiet for a pause after trailing off, opening his eyes to contemplate the sky again—visible again since their scuffle, he notices.]
But that's hard for you not to do, isn't it.
[Still not accusatory. It's not a direct question, either, but it's implied.]
[Shunning would have frustrated him, and it'd be its own form of punishment, but ultimately he wouldn't learn nor understand anything. So, in this case, revenge was truly the right answer. Not only did Nanu get to stick it to Guzma, Guzma's been given the opportunity to learn, and honestly that's probably the best outcome.
Who knows what lengths Guzma might go to get attention someone is denying him, after all.
If anything, all of this makes Guzma respect Nanu more. In as much as he's got respect for anyone, really. Even with Guzma being in mid reformation, he still admires people's wickedness and this was indeed a wicked blow. He certainly hasn't ever had someone make him do a complete 180 with his anger before—even if Nanu couldn't have done it without their amulets, but that's besides the point.]
Guess we ain't that different then, huh?
[The way he says that isn't as smug as it probably normally would be. Instead, there's a strange somberness to it. In truth, it's implying more than what's equally known between them. Guzma knows Nanu's trauma, but the same can't be said for Nanu.
As Nanu continues to nag him, Guzma takes his gaze elsewhere. Part of him bristles at being scolded, even if it's not as harsh as it could be. He doesn't let his anger rise though, and instead settles on scowling at the ground. At the not-quite-a-question, Guzma shrugs his shoulders, and for a few solid moments it seems like he's not going to answer.
He shakes his head, letting out an aggravated, yet defeated, sigh.]
I don't know—I guess so? Never been too good at keeping my anger in check, even when it'd be in my best interest.
[A statement that seems needless to say. Anyone who knows Guzma, knows Guzma's anger just as well. He never leaves home without it! It's strange how easy it is to talk about this, but that's likely because he's still a bit emotionally dazed. That memory share was like a tranq to the dickhead part of his brain, the part that makes him withdraw from people, and dismiss them. The part that maintains that emotional wall he puts up.]
Fightin' and beatin' people down is all I know, Nanu. It's what I grew up on, it's what I formed Team Skull around, it's just who I am. When I feel a fight startin', I can't help it, yo.
[There's some truth to that, but Guzma is also oversimplifying himself in this equation. He's more than that, but when he cycles back into those paces, and it leads to this sort of outcome, maybe it's not entirely unreasonable for him to think this.
On the other hand, it sounds like he's looping back into an excuse, and maybe he is, even if unintentional. Even if it's a really shitty excuse at that.]
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golisolation) wrote2010-07-17 11:01 am
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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?!
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[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!
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[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.]
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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.]
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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.]
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[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?
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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.]
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[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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[Those parts don't come across, though. This was more than enough, and Guzma doesn't need to delve even deeper into Nanu's reason for living the way he does.]
[He can see it on the other man's face. Something he would never expect Guzma to be able to experience, let alone show even a sliver of the emotions running through his mind. Their breathing is matched, the horror still fresh. Nanu has had a decade of experience to lock the memory back up and continue on with his life. Guzma doesn't have the same luxury.]
[When Guzma drops his hold, so does Nanu. His arms fall to the ground like deadweight. The only measure he keeps in place is that bent knee of his—but at this point, he's not expecting to use it. Without any kind of hold anymore, Nanu's flat on his back and 100% vulnerable. It speaks volumes that based on Guzma's reaction, he's trusting him not to attack further. His eyes are less piercing, the fire snuffed out completely. He feels his age again. Much like the ill-fated team member, his fight is lost.]
[He swallows. There's not much you can say, after something like that.]
...Do you get it now?
[His voice conveys his equal loss of anger well. It's not accusatory, nor snappy. Nanu sounds utterly tired; emotional exhaustion befitting of a decade's worth of guilt.]
I refuse...to let that happen to Anabel. She would have...been done for. [He's taking pauses, as his breathing very slowly eases up. His eyes glance away from Guzma's for the first time since their confrontation, leaving him staring at the sky.] ...I went in her place. And when I go home...that's what I'm returning to.
[Nanu leaves the original question unvoiced for a second time. Does he get it now? What Anabel must have thought...must have gone through within seconds of Guzma's careless joke?]
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With Nanu's hold relinquished, and the older man leaving himself entirely vulnerable, Guzma has ample opportunity to attack him. To release that anger he wanted to moments prior. But the anger is gone, replaced by guilt that isn't fully his own. In short, that memory exchange has certainly fucked him up to a degree he didn't ever anticipate. Slowly he finds himself steadying his breathing, as the intensity of it all wanes.
Nanu's question goes unanswered at first. He stares down at him with a complicated expression, letting the other talk further as if he's mulling over the answer. Not daring to interrupt him, even as he takes pauses between his words.
Once he finishes, the implied question certainly noted, Guzma takes the time to move off of him, but he doesn't stand. Instead, he sits besides him, legs crossed under each other with his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked forward before him as they focus on nothing. He almost looks zoned out, honestly.
Seemingly to be at a loss for words for once in his life, the silence persists for a few long moments. It's an odd feeling, but that's par the course in this shitshow of a situation. He draws in a breath through his nose, before letting it out—slow and even—through his mouth. It's shaky, and telling of the answer before he even says it, but the words certainly serve the purpose better:]
Had I known—had I even a clue...
[With an aggravated sound, a hand grasps at his wild hair, his face scrunching with self-aimed frustration. He doesn't finish that sentence, because it sounds too much like an excuse. It sounds too much like a lie to skirt responsibility, and he's trying to stop that, isn't he? The truth is, he did know the dangers of the Ultra Beasts. He knew what people had to face because of Lusamine—because of him. He might not have known those details, known of that specific tragic event... but he's not as much of an idiot as one might assume.
Maybe he shouldn't have joked about Nanu's life like that. Not when the subject matter was nothing to joke about, not when it weighs as heavy as it does on everyone involved. Himself included.
Finally he continues, that hand still holding tight to his hair, as if he's keeping himself on a leash:]
Look—I didn't mean no harm. But that don't change the harm done. I get it.
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[Here, now? He hopes the fact that it's not Guzma's natural memory will make it fade over time.]
[When the other man finally releases him fully, Nanu can actually relax—or as much as he can, right now. His leg falls back into a straightened position, leaving him completely supine in the dirt. In his peripheral, he sees Guzma sit down next to him, as his gaze is still unfocused on the sky. Slowly, his breathing eases toward normalcy again.]
Yeah, well. [Nanu lets out a large breath; a sigh combined with a sort of reset to his breathing.] You aren't supposed to.
[There's a double meaning there: Guzma shouldn't know in the first place, and Nanu shouldn't have shown him the memory at all. The way his voice takes on a regretful tone could imply either one. He's already thinking he owes Guzma an apology... but maybe not right this second.]
[Nanu turns when he notices movement, and frowns deeper when he sees Guzma grab his hair. Despite his dislike of the young man, the self-harming tendencies he's seen have never made him happy. He returns his gaze to the sky, before closing his eyes completely.]
Hard to mean no harm when you imply someone she holds dear didn't make it. [Accusing him further really won't help right now, he knows. But it's voiced like a fact, with no attack behind it; still just...tired. And like he knows Guzma is most likely already aware of the fact, despite how he decided to phrase it.] If I had come over like some sort of diplomat and tried to talk it out with you like a normal human being, would you have realized it the same way?
[Of course, that would be pushing aside how Guzma first handled it to Anabel herself when it first happened at all... But they're long past that, now. Like whiplash, their anger snapped to near-catatonia in the blink of an eye, leaving the two men to sort it out as equals for once.]
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An extreme measure, for sure, but Nanu shared something dark and deep with Guzma to make him understand, when he didn't have to make him understand. He didn't have to do any of that, he could have just been angry, lashed at him, mistreated him and left it at that. He didn't.
Guzma's not sure if the memory will fade, it feels like it's not going anywhere any time soon, but the details will likely fade, leaving behind an impression more than anything.]
Yeah, well what options were I givin' ya?
[He's aware, very aware of how out of hand he can get. A point of pride in the past, but now it's a point of responsibility. Trying to keep himself a bit more reined in is pretty hard, especially when he doesn't have his usual aid: Plumeria. There's Jill, of course, but even she's not here.
The reminder leaves him gripping his hair a bit tighter—but then he lets it go, letting his arm fall back into its former place. It's unfortunate how his violent tendencies are even self-aimed, but it's also unfortunate in that he believes it helps him keep in control, when in reality he's losing control.]
I know—I know.
[He huffs, it's not as indignant as it might have been any other time, and its frustration isn't even at Nanu, it's at himself. There's a lot of unlearning he's still got to do. Even if he wants to tell others he'll never change, that he's always gonna be Big Bad Guzma! The reality is, the fact of the matter is he's trying to do better. He'll never make a full turn around, he knows that, but he can do better.
Nanu's question leaves him silent as he considers it. He wants to say yes, but that's because a childish part of him still feels entirely victimized in this whole thing. He knows if the answer was truly "yes", then Nanu would be left to feel like an asshole who went too far. It'd be an empty form of vindication that he'd regret later, and fortunately the traumatic calm Nanu's shared memory brought him allows him to ignore that knee-jerk answer.]
Probably not. I know the joke was off-color, but that's the sorta humor I'm used to. The sorta shit that me and my homies did to get by. It was easier to laugh at and joke about the rotten shit goin' on, y'know, not take shit too seriously, that way it didn't feel like it affected us as much.
[They romanticized such negativity, desensitized to what most would be appalled by. They were all sensitive kids, but their sensitivity was different than most, and that's honestly where this whole thing came from. Oddly enough, it's feeling easier and easier to just talk to Nanu. Likely because of the vulnerability the other man had shown Guzma.
Not that he wants to spill his guts to him, but here's a chance to make things right, or as right as they can be. And Guzma wants that.]
I ain't makin' no excuse, don't get me wrong. Just explainin' myself. Anabel's fine, I wouldn't intentionally do nothin' to hurt her, she don't deserve that. I wanted to mess with her a li'l, but my choice on what about wasn't great, I can admit that.
[He lets out a sigh, before looking over at Nanu, his mouth pressing to a thin line as he grimaces. It's hard. Hard to admit when you're wrong, after spending almost a decade running from everything: his dad, authorities, responsibility. Who knew his greatest challenge in life would be acting like an adult?]
I was too caught off guard by my own mistake and her reaction that it felt easier to get mad at her for not gettin' it; even though there's no reason she should have.
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[It just so happens that the eventual solution went hand-in-hand with baring Nanu's darkest and most well-kept secret. And the aforementioned regret he's already starting to feel stems largely from the decision being a split-second, emotionally driven one. Guzma's change of heart is ultimately what they both needed, but a side-effect of Nanu's brand of equally malicious revenge. It's what he truly wanted, deep down. He just needs to come to terms with Guzma's new insight into Nanu's mind.]
[The admission of his self-awareness is, admittedly, nice. Any self-awareness at all is a sad sort of refreshing in his presence. Nanu doesn't know if this has always been something that Guzma's known on some sort of level in the back of that hard head of his, or if it's a completely new concept earned from his experience back home. Either way, the price it takes to reveal is way too high.]
[The honesty is refreshing, too—though it feels more like a sudden splash of cold water. Ultimately, it ends up feeling nice on a hot summer day, but the initial impact is still a biting shock to your system.]
You think you and your gang are the only ones? [Nanu makes a noise between a snort and a scoff.] I've lived off of morbid quips for years.
[And then a sigh.] And believe me, I know what it's like to take things too far.
[But not...that far. Though, even if he had...]
Thing is, if you hadn't acted like a child once you realized your mistake, we wouldn't have had to have this little song and dance. [Guzma just said he's not making excuses, but Nanu still feels like it needs saying out loud.] Anabel doesn't like you, but if you had just avoided doubling-down and blaming her for believing exactly what only you would know...
[Yeah, he gets it. It's hard not to really rub in the fact, though. He goes quiet for a pause after trailing off, opening his eyes to contemplate the sky again—visible again since their scuffle, he notices.]
But that's hard for you not to do, isn't it.
[Still not accusatory. It's not a direct question, either, but it's implied.]
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Who knows what lengths Guzma might go to get attention someone is denying him, after all.
If anything, all of this makes Guzma respect Nanu more. In as much as he's got respect for anyone, really. Even with Guzma being in mid reformation, he still admires people's wickedness and this was indeed a wicked blow. He certainly hasn't ever had someone make him do a complete 180 with his anger before—even if Nanu couldn't have done it without their amulets, but that's besides the point.]
Guess we ain't that different then, huh?
[The way he says that isn't as smug as it probably normally would be. Instead, there's a strange somberness to it. In truth, it's implying more than what's equally known between them. Guzma knows Nanu's trauma, but the same can't be said for Nanu.
As Nanu continues to nag him, Guzma takes his gaze elsewhere. Part of him bristles at being scolded, even if it's not as harsh as it could be. He doesn't let his anger rise though, and instead settles on scowling at the ground. At the not-quite-a-question, Guzma shrugs his shoulders, and for a few solid moments it seems like he's not going to answer.
He shakes his head, letting out an aggravated, yet defeated, sigh.]
I don't know—I guess so? Never been too good at keeping my anger in check, even when it'd be in my best interest.
[A statement that seems needless to say. Anyone who knows Guzma, knows Guzma's anger just as well. He never leaves home without it! It's strange how easy it is to talk about this, but that's likely because he's still a bit emotionally dazed. That memory share was like a tranq to the dickhead part of his brain, the part that makes him withdraw from people, and dismiss them. The part that maintains that emotional wall he puts up.]
Fightin' and beatin' people down is all I know, Nanu. It's what I grew up on, it's what I formed Team Skull around, it's just who I am. When I feel a fight startin', I can't help it, yo.
[There's some truth to that, but Guzma is also oversimplifying himself in this equation. He's more than that, but when he cycles back into those paces, and it leads to this sort of outcome, maybe it's not entirely unreasonable for him to think this.
On the other hand, it sounds like he's looping back into an excuse, and maybe he is, even if unintentional. Even if it's a really shitty excuse at that.]
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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