#but like he's still emmet so there ARE still a lot of hunters who trust him

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

secretsleepover bloodborne playthrough got me thinking au thoughts

[coramatus]

Under the City Streets (part 9)

And now for something completely different: hard lessons in perspectives. A drabble.

What happened to the usual mains Emmet and Volo? Read part 8.

The Hunter has long lost track of how much time their quest has taken so far. Granted, their sense of time was never the best to begin with. Considering what their normal abode was like, a million years and a second may as well have been the same thing as far as they were concerned. Gaining any frame of reference outside of that seemed unfathomable. What did they care about the passage of time for anyone beside themself?

So shortsighted…

Somewhere in the City, the Hunter silently broods in one of its saloons. They would nurse the stiff drink before them if fiddling with fingers came naturally to them. But it did not. Instead, they sit with an unnatural stillness that sends others scuttling away from their little corner of unusually dark shadows, their face hidden under a deep hood. The only thing that moves is their red eyes, masked under pointed, dark lenses, constantly scanning their surroundings, constantly thinking.

Perhaps it's an instinct of their current form. They never really grasped just what nervous creatures humans fundamentally were. To always be on alert, to always be thinking ahead, to always move, move, move.

No wonder they invented alcohol.

In their proper shape, the Hunter would not be able to process the stuff at all on account not having a real metabolism or even digestive system to begin with. But now that both had been foisted upon them, the choice of humans to deliberately cloud their own minds to ease the harsh edges of reality suddenly made a lot more sense.

Perhaps they were wiser than the Hunter had given them credit for.

…or maybe consuming alcohol only made them more prone to pontification.

Not that it’s doing any good right now. Not when their fleshy brain matter keeps coming back to the latest development in their situation.

Their eyes narrow.

They nearly had it.

The closest they had ever been to conquering the Beast, their Ultimate Adversary. Just one final well-placed strike would have ended this nightmare once and for all.

But it just had to pull a fast one on them.

Right as they were about to land the finishing blow, the shadowy monstrosity reared up and shrieked a chilling cry that echoed through the forest. Before they could comprehend what it had done, the blunt end of an axe came flying out to strike the Hunter in the back of the head and send them stumbling away. That moment of distraction was enough for the Beast to quickly snatch up the heavy tool and slither away with a great rustling of dry leaves.

Though stunned, the Hunter still managed to trace the weapon’s trajectory back to a raggedy, male human who watched them warily. The human’s dour face sparked vague familiarity.

Before they could recall who he was, the Beast’s dark, undulating form swept up from behind the man, as if it were trying to shield itself behind such a comically small figure in comparison. It deposited the axe at the man’s feet, lowering its massive head to growl into his ear,

“Woodsman, I trust you can deal with this.”

The Woodsman stiffened, turning to glare at the Beast over his shoulder as he hissed, “What?? I am not—!”

“You would be lost without me!” The Beast snapped harshly at him, its glowing spotlight eyes pinning him in place, “Who else can guide you in fulfilling your duties? You know no one would dare lift a finger to help you.”

A flurry of emotions played over the man’s face at the Beast’s words, but the Hunter sensed that he mainly seemed to just be at a loss. They watched as the Woodsman’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he picked up the axe.

“…fine,” he replied sullenly.

“Good man,” the Beast said with an audible smirk, before diving down under the leaf litter and burrowing its way to freedom.

Seeing their quarry escaping, the Hunter scrambled back to their feet to give chase. Only to be immediately blocked by the Woodsman standing directly in their path. He regarded the Hunter with an uncertain frown, his axe raised in a defensive stance. Though he looked ready to fight, there wasn’t much conviction in his eyes.

The Hunter did not have time for this.

They moved to sidestep the Woodsman, but found their path once again blocked by the ragged man. They tried the Woodsman’s other side and got the exact same result. Growing increasingly annoyed, they moved to shove the obstacle aside when the Woodsman’s axe came swinging perilously close to their face, bringing them to a jarring halt.

“Stay behind the yellow line!” the man snapped.

On any other day, the Hunter would probably have been amused by the man’s sheer pluck. But today was not that day. Instead, the Hunter growled menacingly as they took several measured steps forwards, their bulky figure casting an imposing shadow as they loomed over the Woodsman.

“Get out. Of the way,” they gritted out.

The Woodsman stubbornly shook his head.

Lowering their sunglasses, the Hunter’s eerie red eyes glared down at him, “Not your battle. Move!”

But the much smaller human refused to be cowed. Instead, he grimly tightened his grip on his weapon, glaring back in defiance,

“I refuse.”

This was getting ridiculous.

“You are lost!” the Hunter snarled, their hands balled into fists, their words coming so fast their clumsy tongue could barely keep up, “You have. No place here! The way out. Is before you! Take it! Leave!”

For a split second, the Woodsman hesitated, uncertainty clear on his face, as if he was considering the possibility of just walking away. But it was quickly covered back up by the same stone-faced stoicism that blocked the Hunter’s path.

“It doesn’t matter if there is. I have a duty,” the tattered man told them, regret and determination warring in his eyes.

“A duty?” the Hunter scoffed incredulously. What was he talking about??

“To my family!” the Woodsman shot back with sudden vehemence, a spark of anger clear in his eyes. Raising both arms, he aimed the axe to point forward at the Hunter, his other arm extended to the side and pointing down. “And if you cannot understand that then I suggest you depart this station immediately.”

For a second, the Hunter considered simply launching a rope dart to smash through the Woodsman’s axe and barrel past him. But it was much too risky a maneuver.

The consequences were dire if rules were not obeyed.

Their only option was clear.

The Hunter retreated.

Before they disappeared into the shadows, they turned to face the Woodsman one last time. Their red eyes locked onto the man’s tired gray gaze as they darkly informed him:

“You are. Making. A mistake.”

They don’t wait for the Woodsman’s response. They simply swept away into the forest, their form blending into the shadows as the distant sound of the Beast’s smug chuckling followed them out.

It was only afterwards that the Hunter suddenly remembered who exactly the Woodsman was.

That particular human had always been something of an enigma. He was one of the first living things to be pulled in through their many experimental distortions. A man unwittingly dragged through space and time and dumped into the land of Hisui. They only were only aware of this fact because of the way their former accomplice furiously ranted about him. He had practically hounded the poor stranger for information. But the trip through the rift made the man forget everything beside his own name. To his accomplice’s seething disappointment, this faulty memory made the displaced human utterly useless.

But this Woodsman business had to be a much more recent event. Although with the Unknown’s variable passage of time, years could have passed for the Woodsman while only a day could have gone by for the Hunter or vice versa. In any case, it still presented a disturbing turn for the Hunter.

They frankly had no idea the Beast was even capable of manipulating another into its schemes. But it was already shameless in exploiting it to its own benefit. It too knew the rules, so it went and found itself the perfect meat shield. With the Woodsman between them, the Hunter was effectively stymied from taking out the Beast head-on. If the Hunter was ever to complete their quest, it meant that they had to get rid of the Woodsman. But direct confrontation was certain to only end in bloodshed and the voiding of their quest. They would have to find some other way to safely remove him from the equation.

But how?

The Hunter eyes their drink in idle thought.

What if they tricked the Woodsman into getting shitfaced drunk? It would certainly get him safely out of the way. And it would make for an entertaining sight while it lasted.

The idea makes the Hunter huff out a barely audible laugh at the absurdity.

No, that would obviously never work. The Woodsman is vigilant and cautious to a fault. And of course, he already sees the Hunter as a threat.

As they silently puzzle over the issue of the Woodsman, so deep are they in thought that they fail to realize they have caught the attention of another.

“Why, as I live and breathe! Uncle!”

The Hunter jerks sharply as a white flowing form plops down in the seat across from the Hunter. For a long painful moment, they stare blankly at the newcomer before they finally realize who they are dealing with. Bearing the guise of a dark-skinned, masculine human, the twin locks of flowing moon-white hair and a feathery, belted white dress gives him away.

“Nephew?” the Hunter’s underused voice rasps, surprised to even be recognized in their current form.

“Good to see you’re still skulking about. I was wondering if I’d get to see you here,” their nephew says airily.

(Technically, the term ‘nephew’ was a bit of a stretch. But it worked well enough amongst their kind. Similarly, ‘uncle’ was about as close as one could get to the truth considering the murky relations between Legends.)

However, the Hunter can’t help but find themself puzzled at their relative’s presence. With their usual stumbling words, they ask, “You are. Awake? Again?”

“I have been for a while now. There was some nonsense about a world domination plot that forcibly dragged myself and my sister out of our slumber,” their nephew grumbles with a roll of his eyes. Twirling a lock of white hair, he regards his uncle with a raised brow, “Funny, I believe it wasn’t long after you allegedly pulled some funny business on the mortal plane too.”

The Hunter blinks before shaking their head, uncertain as to what their nephew means.

“Hmm, perhaps you will explain yourself eventually,” their nephew concedes with a graceful shrug.

Much like the Hunter’s true home, this plane is nebulous even at the best of times. As a crossroads in reality, linear time and space become much looser in its grasp. Past, present, and future often meet in strange ways and the general etiquette among their kind is to simply gloss over any foreknowledge they might have. Likewise, it is better to simply ignore any whispers of said foreknowledge lest reality unravel itself. Yet again.

So instead, the Hunter asks, “Where is. Your sister?”

At this, the Hunter’s nephew sighs, not quite able to keep the concern out of his voice even as he gestures dismissively, “I’m afraid sister dearest is indisposed at the moment. She’s beside herself with worry. One of her Favored has gone missing. Vanished into the ether!” His flame blue eyes spark with menace as he leans in closer, “I’ve heard rumor of a Unovan’s scent floating about this place. If this is indeed who I am looking for, then I intend to bring him home for her.”

The Hunter takes a sip of their drink, eyeing their relative curiously, “You two. Getting along.”

He crosses his arms with an indignant huff, “I’ll have you know I’m not doing this exclusively for her sake. One of my Favored sorely misses this human as well,” their nephew corrects them, eyes blazing as they lean in close with a hiss, “Our Favored ones are not to be separated.”

The Hunter does not understand why that last detail matters. Instead, they rasp,

“Describe. This Favored. Been here. A long time. Might have seen them.”

Their nephew nods and easily obliges, “He’s quite distinct: a gray-haired male with silly sideburns shaped like knives, dresses mainly in black, and wears a hat bearing an insignia like this.” He raises a hand and draws in the air a fiery blue circle inset with white flames of a smaller circle overlapping an almost hourglass shape.

At the sight of the blue-and-white roundel, the Hunter’s eyes widen as they realize they know exactly who their nephew is referring to.

“…Ah,” they manage to intone.

The burning symbol blinks out of existence as narrowed blue eyes turn sharply to the Hunter, their nephew catching the scent of something in their reaction.

“What does that mean?” he demands.

The Hunter sighs and takes in a mouthful of burning drink. Might as well brace themself for a righteous verbal thrashing. There was no point in lying about this.

“Am afraid. This is. My fault,” they drag out of themself.

Their nephew glares coldly at them,

“Is it now.”

“Yes,” the Hunter rasps flatly, looking away in faint shame. “Would return him. But. Parent has left me… diminished.”

“Tch, serves you right, Uncle,” their nephew sneers. His chair scrapes back loudly as he rises to his feet in a great ruffle of feathers. With a flick of his hair, he snaps, “Just tell me where the human is and I’ll drag him back to Unova myself.”

But the Hunter holds up a hand and shakes their head.

“He will not leave. Without a fight. I tried,” they inform their nephew.

Blue eyes turn sharply to them, searing into them with barely restrained fury.

“Is that your doing as well?” their nephew spits accusingly.

The Hunter shakes their head with a quiet sigh, unable to keep out a tinge of frustration, “No. Beast has him. Cannot pry its grip.”

“You mean that foul shadow?” their nephew growls, glaring in the direction of the Unknown’s vast forests. He raises his lip in disgust, revealing a gleaming, white fang, “I can smell its lies even from here. It sickens me.”

A thoughtful look then crosses their nephew’s face as he leans against the table to point out, “You know, I could just take out the Beast for you. It’d save everyone some trouble—”

“NO!” the Hunter shouts in panic, their fist pounding the wooden table’s surface hard enough to crack one of its legs and launch their glass into air, which their shocked nephew catches before it can break.

The entire saloon comes to a dead stop as everyone turns to stare at them.

The Hunter has the courtesy to mutter a quick embarrassed apology, their dark face looking a bit redder than before. They toss out a few crumpled bills to hopefully cover the cost of repairs.

Satisfied that no more outbursts are forthcoming, the rest of the saloon turns back to their business of ignoring everything else.

Still a bit stunned, their nephew sits back down, considers the amber liquid within their glass, and downs the rest of it. As he savors the burn, he sighs with a small puff of fire.

“Not bad,” he comments. Staring dead into the Hunter’s eyes, he huffs, “Consider that your apology. I was only offering to help.”

The Hunter shakes their head and insists to him, “No. This is. My task. Have to do it. Myself.”

“If you insist,” their nephew grouses, crossing his feathery arms. “Then if the Beast is reserved for you only, how am I to deal with Ingo?”

The Hunter blinks in confusion at the name, “Who is. Ingo?”

“The human I’m looking for,” their nephew says simply, “Ingo Stoker. That’s his name.”

That was news to the Hunter, “Only know him as. The Woodsman.”

“Weird, but whatever,” their nephew says dismissively as a new thought occurs to them. “Perhaps I could just speak to him. I imagine he would listen to me at least. I am the paragon of Truth, surely he will recognize that,” he suggested, his dress fluffing slightly with pride.

Again the Hunter shakes their head, “He is. Blinded by responsibility. Misguided loyalty.” They pause in thought before adding, “Also maybe amnesia.”

Their nephew rolls their eyes. “Tch, my sister’s Favor of him is making more sense by the sec— what do you mean amnesia??” he sputters.

“Apparently. Does not remember much. Before being dropped here,” they shrug.

Their nephew pinches the bridge of his nose in mounting aggravation, “It’s just one thing after another with this guy…” Collecting himself, he squares his shoulders to ask, “Can he be swayed by any other means? Surely there is something that can convince him to abandon this fool’s errand.”

The two descend into a thoughtful silence as they rack their brains over their understanding of the human psyche. What typically motivates humans? Money? Power? Love? Grief? Rare Pokémon?

What is at the core of the Woodsman’s actions?

Then the man’s defiant shout of ‘To my family!’ rings clear as day in the Hunter’s mind.

The idea forms instantly.

“Perhaps. We can help. Each other,” the Hunter rasps as they lean forwards.

Something must show on their face, for their nephew leans in with keen interest.

“I’m listening,” he says slowly, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“You said. Your Favored. Was searching too?” the Hunter asked.

“Aye,” their nephew replies, raising a pale brow, “He wants his twin back. I can understand that feeling…”

The Hunter thinks carefully.

“Send your Favored here,” they say point blank.

They’re not sure how their nephew will take to the idea, risking a human he was deeply invested in by sending them to a place as unpredictable and dangerous as this. But this might be their best shot at safely removing the Woodsman from the Beast’s grasp.

Their nephew tilts their head skeptically, but he catches onto their thoughts quickly, “You believe he can convince his brother to leave?”

“Best option,” the Hunter says. “The Woodsman. May leave on his own. But it is. A big maybe. He needs. A push. A catalyst.”

For a long moment, their nephew silently considers their uncle’s proposal. They can see the gears turning in his head as he calculates the feasibility of such a plan.

“That… might be worth a try. I’ll see what I can do…” their nephew finally answers slowly. He taps his chin as he walks away, deep in thought as he faintly mutters, “I believe I have a few favors I can call in…”

As their nephew exits the saloon, the Hunter looks down at their empty glass. For a second, they consider ordering another to make up for their nephew’s pilfering. Instead, they push the glass aside as they rise to their feet.

If this is going to work, they need a clear head. There will be many moving parts to consider: people and Pokémon that need to be nudged into place, scenarios that have to be accounted for, and choices to be predicted.

While the Hunter prefers brute forcing solutions to their problems, it clearly has not been working here. No matter how adept or strong they become in this form, the Beast will always pull some new trick on them.

Perhaps it was time to take a page out of its book and get clever…

Part 10