…and there we go.
Digging his grave even more.
Perhaps, this time, literally.
Kane barely has the time to finish talking before his former leader, now once again filled with anger found himself forced to keep in a yell.
Instead, he simply moves his hand again, letting the Dorvilence know it’s time to strike.
It’s not a proper move. It’s not to hurt.
Not too much, at least.
All the Pokèmon does is sliding in the shadows before reappearing behind the other, moving its sharp tail around Kane’s neck before slamming his head against that poor table.
“Have you ever considered, instead,” Debito hisses, standing up once again and grabbing the other by the hair, lifting his head just enough to make sure he’ll have his complete attention “that perhaps, you’re the defective one?
Out of all the grunts on this ship, nobody dared to even raise their eyes when I told them not to. Not even Radio is as rebellious as you are.
You did nothing–” he slams Kane’s head down again, before lifting it “–but complaining. Nothing–” and again “–but talking back, and even now that I allow you a second chance you do NOTHING–” and again, pressing hard Kane’s forehead on the wood “–but PISSING ME OFF.
But you’re right. That’s on me.
A good leader shouldn’t give more and more chances to someone who didn’t deserve a single one of them.
I changed my mind. Don’t give me a reason to bring you back in the Team anymore.
You wasted that one too.
Give me a reason I should let you live, Kane.”
There’s only a split second before the Pokémon is upon him and he raises his hands to its tail in a futile manner, only for his face to strike the desk which in turn causes him to yell out in pain as there’s a blatant crack heard. Blood soon pools from his nose and lip and he wants to cry so badly. So, so badly. But he refrains from letting the tears flow, even as Debs grabs his hair and looks at him.
Defective. He’s been called that before and it hurts as much as ever.
Each time his head strikes the surface, he has to force himself to remain quiet, as much as he wants to yell, to writhe and have it stop. So when he’s simply left there to bleed out, he welcomes it, allowing Debs to press him down.
He knows he’s pissed the man off. But what can he do now?! He’s tried the strong tactic. He’s tried yelling back and all that shit but it didn’t work. He feels so helpless, useless, defective...
“Because...” He breathes, puffing to the side so as to rid his mouth of blood. “Because...”
“I jus’... ... Wanna be good for yer...”
Energy sapped, he feels like falling to the floor if Debs would let him, as would the Pokémon, but he remains stoic in place, legs shaking so gently, eyes screwed shut. The pain in his face is immense and he wants to cry again. But he doesn’t let himself. No. He can’t. He feels like a scorned dog kicked to the kerb right now. Which he knows he deserves.
His eyes flicker open, casting a glare at Debito from the angle he’s at.
“... An’ I’d kill t’do that.”
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