A pokeball snapped open in a basement beneath a casino in downtown Final Destination City.
Out of it popped an arcanine, who promptly collapsed on the floor in a heap, frozen in shock. His brain was singing out jolts of agony across his entire body, especially in his forehead. He couldn't see straight. The lighting was bad, but somehow everything was a brilliant bright white.
He lay on the floor, panting, unable to get up, for several minutes. Little alarms were probably going off after his release, ringing dully in his ears, but thankfully there was nobody there to do anything about it. Evidently there was something else going on at the moment that was keeping them away.
Finally, he opened his eyes to look around him. He had no idea where he was. In fact, the last thing he remember was being... killed. He was snapped up the day before in a pokemon ball and then lost control of his body. There was a voice in his head screaming orders at him that he couldn't ignore and... and he'd... he'd done them. He couldn't help but do them.
He whined as he remembered attacking mom. Openly attacking mom and breaking her arm and who knows what else. And trying to kill Sienna and Acacia. He'd never try to kill them. Why did he try to kill them. He was always a good boy. Always such a beautiful, good boy, who only made his mom happy.
He had to find them. He had to get out and find them. Finding mom was the most important thing in the entire world. Where was he? He had no idea. How did he get out? He had no idea. He was going to have to try to find a way out. He pulled himself to his feet, and then fell over. The headache wouldn't go away, and while the bright white light had gone away, the world still danced when he opened his eyes.
Maybe. Maybe he could crawl to a door. He sniffed the air (at least that sense wasn't going crazy-go-nuts) for the scent of fresh, outside air. He dragged his way to a door that was letting air flow beneath it. He couldn't open it like this. He was going to have to turn back into a human.
MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN
Out of it popped an arcanine, who promptly collapsed on the floor in a heap, frozen in shock. His brain was singing out jolts of agony across his entire body, especially in his forehead. He couldn't see straight. The lighting was bad, but somehow everything was a brilliant bright white.
He lay on the floor, panting, unable to get up, for several minutes. Little alarms were probably going off after his release, ringing dully in his ears, but thankfully there was nobody there to do anything about it. Evidently there was something else going on at the moment that was keeping them away.
Finally, he opened his eyes to look around him. He had no idea where he was. In fact, the last thing he remember was being... killed. He was snapped up the day before in a pokemon ball and then lost control of his body. There was a voice in his head screaming orders at him that he couldn't ignore and... and he'd... he'd done them. He couldn't help but do them.
He whined as he remembered attacking mom. Openly attacking mom and breaking her arm and who knows what else. And trying to kill Sienna and Acacia. He'd never try to kill them. Why did he try to kill them. He was always a good boy. Always such a beautiful, good boy, who only made his mom happy.
He had to find them. He had to get out and find them. Finding mom was the most important thing in the entire world. Where was he? He had no idea. How did he get out? He had no idea. He was going to have to try to find a way out. He pulled himself to his feet, and then fell over. The headache wouldn't go away, and while the bright white light had gone away, the world still danced when he opened his eyes.
Maybe. Maybe he could crawl to a door. He sniffed the air (at least that sense wasn't going crazy-go-nuts) for the scent of fresh, outside air. He dragged his way to a door that was letting air flow beneath it. He couldn't open it like this. He was going to have to turn back into a human.