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How did it ever get here?[break][break]

Right... let's back up.[break][break]

---[break][break]

Zev Harcourt had just branded Ashley as traitor. Stabbed some blade thing through his leg, and tore up the nerve endings. His left leg, practically bleeding out, he's near the end of his rope, when Reinhardt comes in, and dies for him. All while his Hisuian Zorua, Cocoa, grabs him and PHANTOM FORCEs them out of there.[break][break]

From there, Ashley had to find a way off the submarine. If not, he would have just prolonged the inevitable. But, searching for a way out hadn't been too hard. It left Rocket alert. It left him limping, but he managed it. He ran from the submarine. To Lilycove. Then through the route towards Fortree. Mt. Pyre would stand so ominously in the distance, practically a spire of memory that continued to plague his mind. Where the forever curse kept him alive, wanting to live.[break][break]

The trail of blood would lead the hounds of Rocket to him, but that curse kept him running. It kept him moving, even as the blood gushed from his left leg telling him to stop. Even as his lungs burned more and more. He kept going, screaming bloodier and bloodier murder with each step. He could feel his body wanting to fall. To let himself just bleed out, but that need, that paleolithic instinct of survival kept coming in. His curse.[break][break]

By time he reached the swamps of Route 120, he first remembered stopping. Not because he wanted to, but because the cold rain made the dirt a slippery mud. "SSSSSSSHI-" He tumbled, slamming his body, face first, and tumbled into the rain and mud.[break][break]

The rain grows heavier, pouring over him like a shower of moist regrets ahead of the watery grave.[break][break]

Attempting to get onto his feet led to the agonizing pain of nerves and muscle spasms. He lost a lot of blood on the run here, replaced now with double vision, the agony, and a sprain to ensure that even attempting to get up was like pulling teeth levels of pain. Ashley realized two things.[break][break]

Number one, if he didn't get to a hospital for the leg wound, he was going to die out here, either by blood loss, freezing to death in the cold rain, or by Rocket. Even then, he couldn't guarantee that Rocket would even let him get that far, nerve damage was already going to be something he lived with. Number two, he was alone. Aside from his Pokemon he had on hand now, he could effectively do nothing. A literal sitting Ducklett.[break][break]

So, pulling himself from the mud and bloody depths... he manages to pathetically crawl towards a tree, resting his back against it, as he feel how bad that wound was. And he winces.[break][break]

"Fuck..." he throws his head against the tree, and can see the blood on his hands. But he is not freed yet.[break][break]

When he looks up... the visage of a white-haired woman stares back. Her face haunts her. But walking next to her, is the white-haired man. Specters of the past. Then, flooding his vision, the corpses of those who had been left behind. The politician from his kill in Rocket before. The numerous Rockets who he felled in the failed attempt to hunt down Isaac. His breathing hitches.[break][break]

"What?"[break][break]

Was it the low amount of blood in his body? His eyes feel as if they've sunken, dark bags below, as his pale figure looks about to snap. But the ghosts of the dead follow him. And all of them just stare. They stare, because what else would they do?[break][break]

"Stop looking at me. I got out, didn't I?"[break][break]

It's not enough. He knows it isn't enough. They were here, watching him, as he backs further into the tree bark, digging himself in. The sight of them make him sick, like the bile was just crawling on all fours to get out of his throat, but he kept it in. But damn, did he want to.[break][break]

"Stop... go away. I... I'm not that person anymore."[break][break]

Nothing he says works. They still stare over him, imposing. Unable to get up. Unable to move away.[break][break]

"I tried! I, I didn't... I don't want to die."[break][break]

The panic attack came all at once, his breathing is all over the place, unable to stabilize. When he goes to check his phone, he realizes... it's gone. He had dropped it.[break][break]

"Oh."[break][break]

The panic almost got worse.[break][break]

No bail out this time. No 9-1-1, no safety net. This was it... as his lungs continued to burn, and constrict with little room to breathe, he would feel the walls finally closing it. Out in the open, free of Rocket, and he was just sport now. Game to be hunted, and fed. Who would come after him? THEO BECKETT? Cillian Quinn? Tempest Quinn? Zev Harcourt? He wondered. But the cruel twist was, he knew. He already knew. declan walsh was that sort of bastard.[break][break]

It was going to be jayden cross, wasn't it? Something about it calms him, soothes him. Finally...[break][break]

He checks his Pokeballs on hand. He can't possibly take Jay on. Not like this. The last time they fought, was that route near Dewford. Ashley had damn near lost his life then. But now, now Jay wouldn't hold anything back.[break][break]

The curse would finally end.[break][break]

...[break][break]

Breath steadying, the rain smacking the ground harder now than ever, he felt himself starting to drift off into the unknown, but forces his eyes to focus on anything. Standing was impossible without adrenaline.[break][break]

Focus.[break][break]

His hand releases the ball for Juliette, his Furfrou. "Find help, girl... please." The Furfrou scurries away, running as fast as she can. To find Ashley some help.[break][break]

Ana, Maple, Magneto, Cocoa, and Juliette. That was the only five he had left... aside from the empty Pokeball of Reinhardt's that stayed on his person. None of them were all that suited for combat, aside from Reinhardt. But they'd give him a fighting chance.[break][break]

Something tells him not though... so he closes his eyes, and leans back. He lets his mind rest...

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