Post by Matsu on Dec 1, 2009 15:31:11 GMT -5
As I sit down, I can't help but feel out of place. The room is dark, too dark to see. It's cold, and the whir of mechanics is a deafening din compared to the silence. A door opens, filling the chrome room with light for a brief second. I squirm in my leather seat as I hear the footsteps.
The following voice is almost gravelly, deep and rough. Who are you?
I'm from Jubilife TV, I state, trying to hide the tremble in my voice. I hear a 'hmm.' You are the leader of the energy research firm Team Galactic, yes?
Yes.
I wish to interview you for a segment on your organization to be featured on Sinnoh News Net. May I?
While you are here, you might as well.
Just, don't lie to me, okay?
He pauses, and I swear I hear a sound from outside. I would have no reason to.
What is your name?
My name in full is Cyrus Helios Akagi-Kilroy.
I blink, and reach for my clipboard.
That will not be necessary.
But that's such a longass name! Does he expect me to remember it, I think. However, I keep the comment to myself; for this is obviously not a man to offend. Not as bad as the Inter-Regional Surveyor's Association had, but still, I'm walking on thin ice.
Do you have any Aliases? Nicknames?[/color]
My underlings call me 'Master Cyrus.' It is, after all, the closest thing to my informal name without dropping off an honorific.
I look at him questioningly, but know he cannot see me.
What is your gender?
The lighting is dim, yes, but I believe it is glaringly obvious that I am male from my tone of voice.
I scoff. The lighting was 'a little dim?'
What is your Occupation?
Had you not known that, you would not have asked me for a conference, now would you?
I shiver. The temperature in the room must have dropped about twenty degrees with his statement. I sigh, and continue questioning the Galactic Leader.
How old are you?
I am twenty-seven years of age.
That's young to be leading an organization, don't you think?
I can feel his eyes glaring at me.
What do you look like?
I gave no thought that you could not see.
It's pitch black in here, of course I can't! Please describe yourself.
He sighs. The lights flick on like a thunderstorm's climax, but stay, which is where the metaphor fell short.
And there was light...
Choosing to ignore his comment, I set on memorizing his features. His hair is like a colour I've never seen before, It's a sky blue, with a hint of turquoise, and a touch of aquamarine around his roots. It's spiked, about six inches above his scalp. His eyes are unadulterated by other facial features, eyebrows, for example, and the blue-grey orbs that send shivers up my spine. The eyes themselves are heavyset, as if he's horribly sleep-deprived, or he's dead. His cheekbones are high, and horribly prominent, making him look much, much older than his previous statement of age. His nose is sharp, sharper than it should be, like a slim beak. His thin, white lips are pressed together in an indifferent frown.
Good Arceus, he's tall. Six foot three, not including his hair. His neck is sturdy-looking, covered halfway up by the beginning of his outfit. The sleeves and top of his thermal are a greyed black, with ebony stripes running down until his mid-chest, where the shirt becomes a white tee. Over that, he wears a complicated vest. It's grey in the front, then outlines his ribs in white. It has a high collar, and the symbol of his company - a space-age looking golden G - is in the left breast as well as outlined on the back of his collar. His pants match The top of his shirt, and are straight-legged down to his ankles. He wears thin-soled boots, white with two grey stripes crossing the middle horizontally.
Looking at him closer, I can see that his hands are calloused as hell, small cuts on his fingertips and thumb. His fingernails, though, are trimmed and clean, which gives his look one of higher status. He seems to be very meticulous by nature, not a hair is out of its spiked place, and not a single wrinkle adorns his clothing.
As I stare at his standing form, I can't help but think that, maybe it's that special way that the light hits him, that he is the modern day messiah. However, I quickly shake that thought from my mind.
The lights flicker.
Continue.
Describe your emotional disposition.
...
Someone of his superior intellect should be able to understand such a question.
Emotions...
He spits the world like venom.
...How wasteful... Such emotions are but mere illusions. And, like all illusions, they fade over time until death banishes them forever. That is why I have abandoned all emotions as useless as sentimentality.
This man...he's crazy!
Such pitifully useless emotions... It's illogical and irrational. Pity and compassion are products of the weak and faulty human heart.
How can he live without emotion? This man is sick.
They are uniformly useless and incomplete.
That's when I hear the noise. I can imagine him bent over, hands over his eyes. I can barely hear the tone in his voice, different from before. Shaky.
There should have been no strife. But what became of that world? Because the human spirit is weak and incomplete, strife has appeared... This world is being ruined by it...I find the state of things to be deplorable...Useless...so...useless...
Any likes? [/color]
Likes...is it possible to be favour anything in this broken society of ours?
This guy is starting to scare me. The former sadness? in his voice is gone, thankfully, but it replaced with steely words, like daggers.
But if I may be particularly fond of anything, it would be machinery, mathematics, the sciences...such perfect concepts in our imperfect world...Things of beauty.
There. Is. Something. Wrong. With. This. Man.
Dislikes?[/color]
Where should I start?
Keep it short if you will.
Arceus, I can feel his eyes piercing into me.
I loathe those things incomplete...Humans, in turn. Pokemon. Our world in itself...despicable.I believe it is because we are all so lacking, we fight, we maim... It is ugly. I hate the incompleteness.
Fears?[/color]
Fears...
He's such a stoic. It...scares me.
The only fear I have is that completeness...is out of reach. The only fear I possess is that we are all damned to a life of such impudence.
Do you have any hobbies? [/color]
I'm becoming afraid to ask these questions.
Philosophy is my key to a Perfect World. Yes...Tinkering is becoming a hobby of mine as well, for, not only is it necessary, but such definite systems, the predictable cause-and-effect...it, too, is perfection...
Why do you train? [/color]
I train Pokemon to create my ultimate wish. A world of complete perfection. Nothing so vague and incomplete as spirit can remain. I promise you. I will break the secrets of the world. With that knowledge, I will create my own complete and perfect world. One day, you will awaken to a world of my creation. A world without spirit.
Unlike Trainers, I do not make Pokemon my friends or partners. Unlike other Team Galactic members, I don't use Pokemon as tools. Instead, I make the power of Pokemon my own. It's true, as my intention is to create a new world. But that world isn't for the likes of Team Galactic. I seek an entirely new world solely for myself. If not, it could never be the complete and perfect world. Pokemon, too, and their trainers, who have polluted their instincts, are among those who shall be destroyed for better things to come... But the most important thing... What shines the brightest... Telling you is meaningless. But I will not give up. I will become a deity one day... And I will make the ultimate mine...
By making the Power of Pokemon my own...I shall complete my dreams..
Tell me about your Past
My past...
I suppose you wish to know my intentions? Either way...
I was born to a family in Sunyshore. I was the eldest, to an abusive father and a mother who was never around and a sister - Amelia- too young and innocent, in a girl's boarding school...
They sent me to a private school when I was four. I was overworked...I overachieved...I quickly climbed the grade ranks with every semester...
My father, however, he believed that I should do better. He starved me if I didn't get perfection in everything I did. I was useless to him... I remember the nights in the closet. So dark...
My Grandfather visited us when I was small, and had just graduated from a private online secondary academy. Of course, I hadn't gotten a perfect grade in an English class, 99.99%. My father snapped. He attacked me, and it was then that my grandfather yelled, "What would Ceres think of this?"
"Ceres is dead."
Yes, when I was nine, my father killed my mother.
I went into isolation after that. I exiled myself to my room. Days passed, and in turn, I had aged to seventeen.
I noticed her in the one window. If was late, the room lit by the dull blue light of a modem. And she stared at me. It repeated for quite a while.
I was nineteen when yet another stalker haunted me. A Magnemite. it hovered outside of my window, its magnetic properties messing with my monitors. eventually, I captured it. It proved to be a good partner, helpful with deciphering the properties of magnetics, as long as it was back in its PokeBall by ten PM, when I attended Vielstone Tech Online, completing my master's degree in Programming.
Apparently, this stalker girl's brother had, too, an interest in machinery. I was twenty when he came over. I remember the day well. My father, I heard from the thin door, tried to act polite to the strange boy. He told me of his ideas for a Data-Analyzing Machine... His 'project.' I agreed to work with him.
The next day, I heard the gunshot, and peeked out of my sanctuary to see my father dead on the floor, a .44 Ponyta next to his head.
I finished the DAM hastily, and even allowed the boy to test it on my Magenton, who had recently evolved. Soon, a pair of foster parents moved in, that is, after they cleaned up the pools of blood. Amelia, who was now in her thirties, rushed over to see the funeral.
One week later, I fled, leaving everything, scraps of mechanical paraphernalia, even the Magneton.
I set up in an apartment in Vielstone, where I finished my Master's. It was only a few days later, on my twenty-first birthday, I saw the article about Amelia's car crash. I was the last of the Akagi-Kilroys.
Along the way, I learned to numb myself. My emotions only hurt me, with the deaths of my family, the abuse...They, I realized, were useless. The world, I learned...was filthy.
I believed it was my job to clean it up. But the world is too broken. It must be made again from its ashes. Team Galactic was formed when I was twenty-six, and we have grown in popularity since. Only a few know my true intention... seek the power to create a new world, a world without strife.
And I shall.
Anything else you'd like to tell me?
Everyone should step back and view things from a bigger perspective. Yes, a bigger perspective, one that is on a universal scale... These little things, this interview, for example...I may be a man, but really, I am just a speck on this Earth, which, compared to a star, is just another speck. To think about all of this...To think about the vast emptiness of space...There are billions and billions of stars. In turn... Billions and billions of specks...
Who ultimately controls you? [/color]
There is a girl...A young She-Magma. She believes she can control me...But you cannot control a God...And if they say that I am a God, then that is what I am.
Magma?
Yes, another team. Magmas. She's quite annoying, and so young. You think that their leader would be a bit more selective with his members...Not that I have ever met him, mind you. But if she's like all Magmas...Her name is Matsu.
Thanks for the interview.I stand, and begin to walk to where I came in.
Saturn.
Sir?
What? There was no one in the room besides me before...
She knows too much. Dispose of her. I'm sure that Charon could use a new Pachirisu for his experiments...?
Experiements? Dispose? What!?
Yes, Master Cyrus.
I barely have time to scream before the world goes black.
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