Nekou's backstory!
...kinda, however vague it is. Anyway, I argued long and hard with myself about posting it, and I got two go aheads, so here it is. (Sebastian's narrating it, by the way)
34. Creation
"It looks to me like your Sneasel's pretty wound up. You said no one got hurt?"
"Nothing that's not treatable with a bandage, Professor. Kali's a good girl like that..."
"Hm."
A good girl. That's what she called it.
But wasn't that all she knew? Ever since I took her in, nursed her back to health, she's been so eager to please... so gullible... so trusting, even after the ordeal she'd been through. Desirable traits for someone in her line of work, yet still, her blindness unsettled me from the beginning... This is someone they abandoned? The thought made me shudder... even with her uneviable circumstances, I question if the events of two years ago weren't for the best, perhaps...
"That's unusual behavior for a Sneasel, you know, Nekou."
"What is?"
"That no one got too badly hurt. You realize, of course, most Sneasel continue their attack until the enemy is completely incapacitated."
She has no family, none aside from Eden, the cult responsible for her existence. They were sick of waiting for their gods to come, so they created their own- Angels, they called them, ironically, test tube children imbued with the genes of telepaths, healers, and anyone else with abilities beyond the typical human range... the wisdom of the ages pounded into their very subconcious from an early age, in the hopes that perhaps they could lead humanity into the light. Or so the stories say. And yet, they grew uncomfortable with the power of their new saviors, so they wiped their memories, threw them on the streets like stray Meowth, hoping God would lead them to a better life. Few believe the stories any more, passing them off as mere tabloid headlines. It's understandable. After all, I felt that way as well... until she showed up. Bleeding from wounds that any normal human would have succumbed to by then... It was clear she was one of the lost children.
"I know that, sir. But not Kali. I trained her better than that."
"Better than that? How can you say that? That's a Sneasel's nature. It's perfectly expected."
She's dangerous. There's no question. Fortunately, she's unaware of her past, maybe blissfully so. But the abilities, the knowledge, all are still there. They've materialized slightly from time to time- a wound healed here, an inevitable disaster averted there, and yet she swears ignorance of anything unusual happening. Mostly harmless. Yet her given name, found in the project records for a girl with her exact description, says it all. Azrael. Literally "Who God Helps", but more accurately, the Angel of Death. Said to lead souls into the next world. Her intended purpose. To lead the unfortunate heretics, and anyone else who got in their way, to their demise.
"If I hadn't trained her that way, then there'd be an agent accidentally killed just a moment ago, wouldn't there? I'm happy she's beyond that. I think Kali is too."
She won't kill except in self defense. She's made it perfectly clear, and somehow, the concession was made to her. Even if that was the very reason she was created. Though I'm one of the few who knows that, it's a puzzle. I have good reason for my secrecy. Telling her would be a mistake. I've seen what happens when those designed to kill know their purpose. And the knowledge in the hands of anyone else... Perhaps I'm too trusting. Although it's been agreed when she manifests her abilities more completely, she'll be studied, taught to harness them if it kills her, I wonder if I've grown too attached to her to see her as just another specimen, another test subject. How would she react to the prospect of becoming just a tool, nothing more than the sum of her powers? Would she go along with it willingly? Would she be a good girl? Or would she use the newfound knowledge of her power against us, do exactly as her creators feared? Will I have opened Pandora's box?
"Maybe so. But you need to keep a better eye on that thing. If someone was badly injured, you'd be in a world of trouble, you know."
"I know. I'll talk to her about it. It won't happen again."
"Let's hope not, Nekou."
She's got a great deal of strength if she could teach that Sneasel to forget its very instinct. To forget, like she has, that Sneasel are natural killing machines. It's not natural, but the way she talked about it, it was like second nature for the Sneasel... Maybe we are so much more than what we're born into?
I took my hands off the keyboard. I began this paper as a study on how Pokemon behavior could be altered simply through training, hoping the girl's Sneasel would serve as an example to prove my earlier theories, yet it'd turned into a deeply confessional journal entry, more about humans than anything else. I shivered. She was let off easy. What was it about her, her innocence, that made her seem so... harmless? How did I know the Sneasel incident was merely an accident? She could have planned it, for all I knew. And yet...
I turned the computer off. Dwelling on the events earlier in the day clearly led me in a circle. It haunted me, though. It would be best now just to take a walk, to get my mind off it. I could rewrite the report later, after all. When my mind wasn't clouded by emotion.
The clouds still haven't left.
34. Creation
"It looks to me like your Sneasel's pretty wound up. You said no one got hurt?"
"Nothing that's not treatable with a bandage, Professor. Kali's a good girl like that..."
"Hm."
A good girl. That's what she called it.
But wasn't that all she knew? Ever since I took her in, nursed her back to health, she's been so eager to please... so gullible... so trusting, even after the ordeal she'd been through. Desirable traits for someone in her line of work, yet still, her blindness unsettled me from the beginning... This is someone they abandoned? The thought made me shudder... even with her uneviable circumstances, I question if the events of two years ago weren't for the best, perhaps...
"That's unusual behavior for a Sneasel, you know, Nekou."
"What is?"
"That no one got too badly hurt. You realize, of course, most Sneasel continue their attack until the enemy is completely incapacitated."
She has no family, none aside from Eden, the cult responsible for her existence. They were sick of waiting for their gods to come, so they created their own- Angels, they called them, ironically, test tube children imbued with the genes of telepaths, healers, and anyone else with abilities beyond the typical human range... the wisdom of the ages pounded into their very subconcious from an early age, in the hopes that perhaps they could lead humanity into the light. Or so the stories say. And yet, they grew uncomfortable with the power of their new saviors, so they wiped their memories, threw them on the streets like stray Meowth, hoping God would lead them to a better life. Few believe the stories any more, passing them off as mere tabloid headlines. It's understandable. After all, I felt that way as well... until she showed up. Bleeding from wounds that any normal human would have succumbed to by then... It was clear she was one of the lost children.
"I know that, sir. But not Kali. I trained her better than that."
"Better than that? How can you say that? That's a Sneasel's nature. It's perfectly expected."
She's dangerous. There's no question. Fortunately, she's unaware of her past, maybe blissfully so. But the abilities, the knowledge, all are still there. They've materialized slightly from time to time- a wound healed here, an inevitable disaster averted there, and yet she swears ignorance of anything unusual happening. Mostly harmless. Yet her given name, found in the project records for a girl with her exact description, says it all. Azrael. Literally "Who God Helps", but more accurately, the Angel of Death. Said to lead souls into the next world. Her intended purpose. To lead the unfortunate heretics, and anyone else who got in their way, to their demise.
"If I hadn't trained her that way, then there'd be an agent accidentally killed just a moment ago, wouldn't there? I'm happy she's beyond that. I think Kali is too."
She won't kill except in self defense. She's made it perfectly clear, and somehow, the concession was made to her. Even if that was the very reason she was created. Though I'm one of the few who knows that, it's a puzzle. I have good reason for my secrecy. Telling her would be a mistake. I've seen what happens when those designed to kill know their purpose. And the knowledge in the hands of anyone else... Perhaps I'm too trusting. Although it's been agreed when she manifests her abilities more completely, she'll be studied, taught to harness them if it kills her, I wonder if I've grown too attached to her to see her as just another specimen, another test subject. How would she react to the prospect of becoming just a tool, nothing more than the sum of her powers? Would she go along with it willingly? Would she be a good girl? Or would she use the newfound knowledge of her power against us, do exactly as her creators feared? Will I have opened Pandora's box?
"Maybe so. But you need to keep a better eye on that thing. If someone was badly injured, you'd be in a world of trouble, you know."
"I know. I'll talk to her about it. It won't happen again."
"Let's hope not, Nekou."
She's got a great deal of strength if she could teach that Sneasel to forget its very instinct. To forget, like she has, that Sneasel are natural killing machines. It's not natural, but the way she talked about it, it was like second nature for the Sneasel... Maybe we are so much more than what we're born into?
I took my hands off the keyboard. I began this paper as a study on how Pokemon behavior could be altered simply through training, hoping the girl's Sneasel would serve as an example to prove my earlier theories, yet it'd turned into a deeply confessional journal entry, more about humans than anything else. I shivered. She was let off easy. What was it about her, her innocence, that made her seem so... harmless? How did I know the Sneasel incident was merely an accident? She could have planned it, for all I knew. And yet...
I turned the computer off. Dwelling on the events earlier in the day clearly led me in a circle. It haunted me, though. It would be best now just to take a walk, to get my mind off it. I could rewrite the report later, after all. When my mind wasn't clouded by emotion.
The clouds still haven't left.