A voice. A voice from above, like that of Arceus, but more in the guise of a demon. A smooth, lacquered tone that eased into her ears. Genevieve’s steps froze in an instant. She had been so preoccupied with that sad excuse of a Blaziken, she had failed to sense the presence of another. Quickly spinning on her heels, she surveyed the area for who it might have been. If she didn’t sense somebody, were they real? Surely it wasn’t another voice that only existed in her head. She could not afford those voices to return, those nagging reminders of self doubt. Not now, not now.
Maybe the voice was indeed hers. It hadn’t said anything that she didn’t already know to be true. It was indeed a bad day and it kept growing increasingly worse. But she would not let that be the case. She could not afford to lose herself in these thoughts. That was what lead her down this path. That was what caused her to give in to her animal instincts and lose herself to that pig, Scar. He was probably still asleep in his bed, a smug smile plastered on his face from his night time rendezvous with her. But, that was not the issue at hand, however, she could not dwell on it. Where did this voice issue from? The dark of night cast the hall in shadow, her eyes searching for any semblance of other life.
“Show yourself!” She barked into the darkness, her voice carrying off into a haunting echo down the far side. “You do not know with who you contest. I assure you, the best thing I can give you is a swift death.” Running her gaze across the well worn roof, she finally spied what might have been the voice’s origin. It wasn’t much, but it was a wide, toothy grin and what seemed to be a radiant pair of gem-like eyes. The rest of the creature was cast in darkness, an impenetrable shroud that caused definition to elude her. “Got you,” she whispered in an almost inaudible tone.
Genevieve closed her eyes for but a second, her hands crackling with the vivacity and heat of electricity. She had no intention of hitting her interloper, simply to scatter him like the hidden roach that he was. As much as she would love to follow up her threat to end his existence, she knew you never kill without first getting answers. The build up of her thunderbolt continued to mount, the jolts licking the tips of her fingers in a ticklish caress. Opening her eyes, she unleashed the bolt right near the source of the voice, the result of the attack leaving a smoking crater where a ceiling tile should have been.
“You will come down and face me, or so help me, I will not miss again.”