Hungry

This constant rumble...

... It lowers me to my bare instincts. The instincts to maim, to rend, to slash apart skin to reach flesh. Food.

Food.

I haven't had any since I was caught. Real food, that is. Not this mass-produced Pokemon feed. There's no meat in it. It's not enough to live on.

I've lost my dignity. My pride of being the most calm Scyther I know. I'm hungry. So hungry.

It makes me delirious with images of all the largest prey; Pidgeot, Sawsbuck, Tauros, Arbok, even the dangerous Rapidash I dared attack. I lust for their flesh. But I don't just want it. I need it. I'm emaciated. It won't take much longer for my carnivore requirements to take over me. Won't take much more to make me die of starvation.

And I'm clumsy. I've lost my edge in battle. I doubt my Trainer's noticed. He's a novice, I think. If he were smarter, he'd feed his Pokemon right. I was only caught because of his Haunter's Hypnosis. I don't blame him too much. Mostly because I can't concentrate on anything other than food now.

I haven't spoken with any of his other Pokemon. He can't have more than six, though I've never even met the others.

I don't think about them much. When I do, it's always in barbaric fits of thought; of hunger. Thinking about how much I could devour. Wondering what species they were. Wondering how long it will take to end their screams so I can eat in peace. Wondering if it's necessary to waste the time ending their life before digging in.

My stomach's crying to be filled.

I can't battle it. Not for much longer. I have the weapons to get it. I am built for the hunt. Built to get food. I can't see. I'm dizzy. Starved. I have to eat. Or I'll die. Have to get food...

I take in the taste of fresh blood as it wets my dry tongue. I tremble, even as I gorge myself, getting the sticky red stuff all over my face. The flesh isn't even good, but I don't care, I must be sated. I use my blades to sever limbs, chewing through everything edible, even splintering thick bone.

I eat and eat and eat until my frenzy starts to fade.

W-what am I doing? What am I eating?

I can't wipe the blood from my eyes, but the face of the boy still manages to shock me. It shouldn't, really. A memory hits me; bursting free from my tranquil Ball, raising my perfect blades with anticipation, the excitement of spraying red, the feel of warm skin waiting to be torn open. The last rumble of my stomach as its wish is granted. I slay my clueless Trainer. I killed him. Tore him to pieces.

I exclaim with mirthless animal joy.

But it's not enough. The roaring Scyther instinct to kill has not quieted.

Luckily for me, his Pokemon must have sensed their Trainer's demise, for one-by-one they free themselves. An Ariados- inedible, my mind says. Lairon- not worth the effort to break open. A Rapidash! What a treat!

Without a further thought, my legs and wings kick into action, carrying me with scythes raised and a crazed look at the unicorn. At the prey. The soft, filling flesh. The heat of the Pokemon's flames cooking the Pokemon after it dies! The most precious meal.

And dangerous, but I can't even stop myself; nearly blacking out in another frenzy of slashes. Still hungry. Hungry!

The wrathful whinny of the flaming Rapidash hardly registers to me. All I can hear is the subtle sound of teeth piercing skin.

My decapitated Trainer's Pokemon are surrounding me, attacking mercilessly; with tears in their eyes. I have no sympathy. I have only hunger.

I slash at everything until I'm so covered in blood the heavenly smell threatens to make me pass out.

But it's my blood too, dark and syrupy. The next thing I smell is charred skin. My wings have been scorched, and the rest of me, too, but I can't feel it. I can't feel the stinging burns, can't feel the Poison Sting that's affected me, can't feel the bashed-in exoskeleton of my leg.

I fall, unable to stand, slashing wildly and even slicing myself up, but I can't feel it.

Even as I lose consciousness from lacerations, I can't feel it. Even as I know I die. I can't feel it.

Only hunger.

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