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The distance between them was less than three meters.
It shouldn't have felt like a mile, but it did.
Alex lunged.
It wasn't a graceful, cinematic assassin's strike.
It was a desperate, clumsy tackle fueled by adrenaline and the terrifying knowledge that if he failed, he died.
The recruit, a boy with greasy hair and acne-scarred cheeks, had just enough time to widen his eyes.
He didn't scream...not yet.
He tried to raise the Pokéball he had just picked up, as if to shield himself.
Thud.
Alex slammed into him.
The momentum carried them both backward, feet slipping on the slick, muddy riverbank.
They hit the ground hard, a tangle of limbs and grey uniforms.
"Get off!" the recruit shrieked, his voice cracking with panic.
He thrashed wildly, his knee jerking up and slamming into Alex's already battered ribs.
"Ghh!"
Alex saw white spots dance in his vision. The pain was blinding, a hot spike driving into his chest.
Air left his lungs in a wheeze.
For a second, his grip loosened.
The recruit scrambled, trying to push Alex off.
He was stronger than Alex...fed better, probably from a better district.
He managed to free one arm and punched Alex squarely in the mask.
Crack
The synthetic material held, but the impact jarred Alex's skull.
His head snapped back.
"Ekans!
Kill him!
Kill him now!" the recruit screamed, his eyes bulging with terror.
That command froze Alex's blood.
The snake.
Alex risked a glance to his right.
The Ekans, exhausted and battered from its fight with the Nidoran, was coiling up about ten feet away.
It hissed, its tongue tasting the fear in the air. Its hood flared.
It was hurt, but a Poison Sting at this range would be a death sentence.
I have seconds.
It was simple math.
If the boy kept screaming, the snake would attack.
If the boy stopped screaming, the snake might hesitate.
Alex looked down at the boy beneath him. He looked young.
Terrified, Just a kid who wanted to join Team Rocket to escape the slums.
Just like Alex.
I'm sorry, Alex thought, the thought clear and cold amidst the chaos.
He brought the knife down.
He didn't aim for the throat.
He wasn't that precise.
He just drove the rusty carbon steel blade downward with all his weight, aiming for the center of mass.
SHUNK
The sound was awful.
It was the sound of a butcher shop.
Wet, Dull.
The recruit gasped, his back arching off the mud.
The scream died in his throat, replaced by a gurgling, horrified choke.
The knife had buried itself deep into his chest, just below the collarbone.
Alex's hands were shaking so hard he almost let go of the hilt.
He could feel the warmth...blood, hot and sticky, immediately coating his fingers.
"P-please..." the boy wheezed, his hands clutching weakly at Alex's uniform.
His eyes were wide, staring up at the mask. He wasn't seeing Alex.
He was seeing a monster with a fake face.
Alex gritted his teeth, tears stinging his eyes.
He didn't want to do this.
He wanted to go home.
He wanted to be back in his room trading stocks.
But the Ekans hissed again, louder this time. It was sliding closer.
"I can't stop," Alex sobbed out, his voice was low.
"I can't stop."
He pulled the knife out.
And he drove it down again.
And again and again.
The struggling stopped.
The hands fell away from Alex's jacket.
The boy's eyes glazed over, staring fixedly at the canopy of leaves above, seeing nothing.
Silence rushed back into the clearing, heavier than before.
The only sound was the rushing river and the frantic pounding of Alex's own heart, which felt like it was trying to break his ribs from the inside.
Alex sat back on his heels, straddling the corpse.
He was panting, short, sharp breaths that tasted of copper.
He looked at his hands.
Red... So much red.
It soaked the grey sleeves of his uniform, turning them black.
I killed him.
I actually killed him.
Nausea hit him like a physical blow.
He scrambled off the body, crawling on his hands and knees to the edge of the bushes, and dry-heaved.
Nothing came out but bile and spit.
His stomach cramped, violently rejecting the reality of what he had done.
Hiss...
The sound snapped him back to the present.
Alex wiped his mouth with a bloody hand, leaving a smear on the mask, and spun around, raising the knife.
The Ekans was there.
It was five feet away.
It looked at the dead boy.
Then it looked at Alex.
Its slit pupils dilated.
Pokémon in this world were intelligent.
They understood hierarchy.
They understood death.
This Ekans had been captured, likely forced to fight.
It had no deep bond with the boy.
And now, the boy was meat.
And the creature standing over the meat was the Apex.
The Ekans lowered its hood.
It hissed one last time...low, warning, but not aggressive and then turned.
It slithered into the tall grass, disappearing into the jungle.
It chose freedom over vengeance.
Alex watched it go, his knife still raised, his arm trembling uncontrollably.
"It left," he whispered. "It just... left."
He slumped back against a rock, the adrenaline crash hitting him.
He felt cold. So cold.
He looked at the body.
[ Status: Deceased ]
The blue box hovered over the corpse, indifferent.
It didn't care about morality.
It just reported the data.
Alex forced himself to move.
He couldn't stay here.
The smell of blood would attract predators...real ones.
Scythers, Arbok and many.
He crawled back to the body.
He tried not to look at the face. He tried to treat it like a loot box in a video game.
Just loot.
Just loot
Don't think.
He reached out and pried the recruit's fingers open.
Rigor mortis hadn't set in yet, but the grip was stiff with the final spasm of death.
He took the Pokéball.
It was warm.
Inside, the Dark Red Aptitude Nidoran rested in stasis.
Alex held it to his chest, closing his eyes. The metal sphere felt heavy.
It weighed exactly one human life.
"You better be worth it," Alex whispered to the ball.
His voice broke.
"You better be the strongest damn Nidoran in the world."
He quickly checked the rest of the body.
Watch: He tried to take it, but the clasp was locked.
Biometric lock and a password,useless
He couldn't transfer the points.
Pockets: He found a half-eaten ration bar wrapped in foil.
A small canteen of water.
Belt: An empty Pokéball (the one used for Ekans).
He took the food, the water, and the empty ball.
He shoved them into his pockets.
He stood up.
His legs felt like jelly.
His ribs were a constant, dull fire, but the pain helped.
It grounded him.
He looked down at the boy one last time.
He didn't know his name.
He would never know his name.
"I'm sorry," Alex said again.
He turned and limped away from the river, back toward the dense foliage.
He needed to find a new hiding spot.
He needed to bond with the Nidoran.
And he needed to wash the blood off his hands before it dried.
As he walked, he didn't take off the mask.
He felt like he could never take it off again. Alex Hales, the innocent graduate, had died back there in the mud.
Only Ares was left.
Authors Note:-
Poor Alex , many fics show that mc kills without remorse like which modern person will be like ...naa easy just kill and slice the neck...may be soldiers or terrorist.
I my opinion anyone in that position would be terrified and full of guilt.
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