[i]"If I was a horse, I wasn't beaten to death yet. I wasn't supposed to, being the weaponized Pokemon I was. Que some music, would you?

Thousands of years roaming the dead lands, watching as three survivors of a dead world rebuilt everything piece by piece. Man, a lot of radiation suddenly disappeared. I think Arceus did something to physics or something. Never thought about happiness, since emotions didn't come back to me until I gained sentience about a thousand years ago.

She was strange, just like me. I thought I had escaped her. But no; she spent all those years hiding like me, cowering in our trenches, planning how to cross the no man's land of Pokemon to kill each other. I nearly did once, so she returned the favor. I just wish she had listened to him, with a cliche love ending ending it all and satisfying everyone. All those Pokemon needlessly corrupted to serve her own means, sometimes wasting her resources down to her last few Pokemon just to get back at me. Even him, unfortunately. He wasn't dead, but of course fate led him to her once more, and now he was also an agent of hers. I haven't killed him yet, despite unleashing a hail of energy at over twenty Pokemon at one point. I lost count of how many Pokemon I've had to put down, but being weaponized meant I couldn't be used as a computer efficiently. Those bastards who left me in pain for life didn't think about replacing components of computers with generators and all sorts of doodads.

It was just me and her in this world. One of us would not give in anytime soon. She's rebuilding her forces, while I have to hide. I am nearing the edge of death just so I could save your new-found friends, which I completely understand since I just left you with danger.

Hopefully, this isn't my last transmission. Maybe, I'll be able to finally relax after all of this is over. Maybe, my suffering will be over. Maybe, everything will return to normal, with Pokemon freely roaming the lands without fear of... Desia. I want to be out of pain, and to do that I have to die. But, I have to fight on for those who do not even realize the danger I have failed to stop, among others who have since joined her.

'I will die when this war is over, not as another story.' A less racist version of a quote spoken by a soldier, an hour before being routed by a coalition of Asian forces. He called them a variety of racist words in his sentence - being sentient, I won't exactly recite those words...

Goodbye world. Flappy out."[/i]

...and dear God. He was my... guardian for a long time. I knew this message was sent by Davis, because- WHO ELSE WOULD BE ABLE TO TRANSMIT A MESSAGE LIKE THIS!? This was a plain message with no coding whatsoever, meaning he was probably too weak to progress. He was probably actually dying, since I couldn't even trace the origins of that signal. At that point, my wound on my face started to ache. No, it wasn't glowing purple or anything. I was just reminded of Dementia.

Speaking of Dementia, I got face-to-face with one of her lackeys. I didn't feel like fighting, because I was still trying to absorb the emotions sent by Davis. That, and I didn't realise there was a sickly-purple Murkrow behind me, until it started growling. Not in a kind way that would make you less likely to attack something kind...

...but, the kind that was merciless and almost beyond recognition. Bloodthirsty, even for a dark Pokemon that's possibly associated with the Mafia. All that info just from listening to a specific tone of a voice.

I flipped upside down, glaring deeply into the Murkrow's dead eyes, as it dived into me and gave me a few nicks. Instantly, I felt a rage building up as I straightened myself in the air, unleashing my own brand of death at the unsuspecting Murkrow.

"That... is for [s]Bill![/s] [b]Davis![/b]" I unleashed 'a hail of energy,' shocking that purple cloud to the point where it was arcing electricity as it hit the cobbled ground in almost slow-motion. I had wandered off from the main entrance somehow, and... and...

"...and dear God." All I could do was stare at the lifeless corpse, as the purple began to fade away from the Murkrow. I sent my apology through a series of slashes across and down my face, taught by Davis, who explained the concept of religion to me (although he seemed hesitant to explain religions that weren't Christian). I hid the bird in a dense dry bush, and started to approach the heart of Scale City. Already, I felt as traumatised as Davis. Who knew what was to come?