Dias
Fenrir
Well, as you may or may not know, I was somewhat recently working on a project entitled Circle of the Tyrants. Though I had great plans for that story, I found my considerably potent karma lashing out again as I decided to system restore my computer. I saved all of my word files to a disc and initiated the restore, and after that completed, put the disc in to get my files back. Alas, the disc was evidently empty, though I received no error messages or warnings when I wrote the files to CD. Consequently, I lost what I had written of Circle of the Tyrants, and, unfortunately, could not get myself inspired to rewrite what I had written. Therefore, we have this thread.
I have started work on a new project, entitled (if you couldn’t guess) Murder: A Manifesto. The story revolves around a man by the name of Dimitri Vilkates, a member of the criminal organization Rocket. Now, before you turn tail and run, give me a chance to elaborate.
First of all, the organization is Rocket, not Team Rocket. I dropped the ‘Team’ not to try and lure readers into a false sense of security, but because the entire ‘team’ part of all of Pokemon’s organizations make them sound juvenile and rather ridiculous. My Rocket will bare no resemblance to the Team Rocket of the anime or video games. They don’t go around stealing Pokemon or anything like that.
Rocket is a true criminal organization. I suppose the best way I could describe them would be to relate them to the mafia. Imagine the structure of the Italian/Sicilian mafia with the brutality of the Russian mafia and you will have something of an idea of Rocket. They are a brutal syndicate, many of its members more closely identified as serial killers, psychopaths, and any other advocate of depravity imaginable.
As I said, the story revolved around Dimitri Vilkates, one of Rocket’s most vicious enforcers riddled with such a variety of psychological disorders that no psychologist could properly diagnose the extent of his problems. That is, until now.
Dimitri was captured shortly before the start of the story, and was effortlessly convicted and sentenced to execution via electrocution. He was immediately brought to the head of the line and has a few short weeks before his date with death. He has, however, agreed to meet with a psychologist specializing in criminal psychology for an in-depth case study lasting the rest of his sentence.
The story will be told in flashback form, narrated by Dimitri. If you have ever seen Interview With the Vampire, that is pretty much how this story will be presented. I am still debating whether or not to have some third-person interjections, but I’m pretty sure it will be fully in the first person. Flashbacks will have italicized parts which will be the actual narration and then will phase into scenes in regular writing.
As for the genre of the story, it will be something along the lines of Drama and Horror. By horror, I mean more along the lines of “real” horror. Real horror in the sense of things that could easily happen in real life, devoid of the supernatural or paranormal. Rape, murder, torture in the vilest extremes, with a few twists that I hope will serve to rivet.
I present this fiction as a work that will undermine anyone’s vision of evil organizations in Pokemon. For anyone who has every sighed, rolled their eyes, or groaned in disgust at the mere mention of ‘Team Rocket’ (for I am one of them), I write this for us.
Let the wounds open and the lifeblood stain the pages.
____
“Before I begin, doctor, I must take this time to turn the tables and ask you a question,” I said, leaning forward as far in the chair as I could without having the handcuffs rip at my flesh. I felt strands of loose hair shiver across my forehead as I stared at her. I knew my eyes were burning holes into her flesh and spirit, because she gave me that look that everyone always did when I bored into their soul. I scared her. I knew this, even though I had only been sitting with her for a few moments. The button on her pen which she had been pressing nervously found itself suddenly out of rhythm as her thumb missed its mark. She tried to look at me; I saw her eyes quaver and vibrate, urging themselves to meet mine.
I loved to see them like this. My mouth spread into a menacing smile and my tongue swept across my teeth in a single motion. She shifted about in her seat and flipped the page in her notebook.
“Are you ready, doctor? Are you prepared to delve into a past so Hellish that it could keep you up at night, much like it has kept me awake? To hear the screams of victims so numerous that you might very well fall to the insanity that you so zealously study? I will hold nothing back, doctor. You will feel the cold steel in your hands, you will taste the blood. You will see the anguished faces of the victims of psychotic brutality. You will see flayed flesh and dismemberment, bodily fluids so vulgar you will wonder how they could have come out of a human. Killing through the eyes of the killer and the victim is nothing like it is through the eyes of the outsider. The spectator. The average person. The doctor. When I’m done with my story you may very well beg me to kill you.”
At that point I exploded in laughter, keeping my eyes baring down on her. The guard sprinted across the room and grabbed me by the shoulders, slamming me back into chair. I didn’t stop laughing for a few more moments, for the tears and fear welling in the dear doctor’s eyes kept me going. When I did stop, I spoke again.
“Well then… where shall we begin?”
I have started work on a new project, entitled (if you couldn’t guess) Murder: A Manifesto. The story revolves around a man by the name of Dimitri Vilkates, a member of the criminal organization Rocket. Now, before you turn tail and run, give me a chance to elaborate.
First of all, the organization is Rocket, not Team Rocket. I dropped the ‘Team’ not to try and lure readers into a false sense of security, but because the entire ‘team’ part of all of Pokemon’s organizations make them sound juvenile and rather ridiculous. My Rocket will bare no resemblance to the Team Rocket of the anime or video games. They don’t go around stealing Pokemon or anything like that.
Rocket is a true criminal organization. I suppose the best way I could describe them would be to relate them to the mafia. Imagine the structure of the Italian/Sicilian mafia with the brutality of the Russian mafia and you will have something of an idea of Rocket. They are a brutal syndicate, many of its members more closely identified as serial killers, psychopaths, and any other advocate of depravity imaginable.
As I said, the story revolved around Dimitri Vilkates, one of Rocket’s most vicious enforcers riddled with such a variety of psychological disorders that no psychologist could properly diagnose the extent of his problems. That is, until now.
Dimitri was captured shortly before the start of the story, and was effortlessly convicted and sentenced to execution via electrocution. He was immediately brought to the head of the line and has a few short weeks before his date with death. He has, however, agreed to meet with a psychologist specializing in criminal psychology for an in-depth case study lasting the rest of his sentence.
The story will be told in flashback form, narrated by Dimitri. If you have ever seen Interview With the Vampire, that is pretty much how this story will be presented. I am still debating whether or not to have some third-person interjections, but I’m pretty sure it will be fully in the first person. Flashbacks will have italicized parts which will be the actual narration and then will phase into scenes in regular writing.
As for the genre of the story, it will be something along the lines of Drama and Horror. By horror, I mean more along the lines of “real” horror. Real horror in the sense of things that could easily happen in real life, devoid of the supernatural or paranormal. Rape, murder, torture in the vilest extremes, with a few twists that I hope will serve to rivet.
I present this fiction as a work that will undermine anyone’s vision of evil organizations in Pokemon. For anyone who has every sighed, rolled their eyes, or groaned in disgust at the mere mention of ‘Team Rocket’ (for I am one of them), I write this for us.
Let the wounds open and the lifeblood stain the pages.
____
“Before I begin, doctor, I must take this time to turn the tables and ask you a question,” I said, leaning forward as far in the chair as I could without having the handcuffs rip at my flesh. I felt strands of loose hair shiver across my forehead as I stared at her. I knew my eyes were burning holes into her flesh and spirit, because she gave me that look that everyone always did when I bored into their soul. I scared her. I knew this, even though I had only been sitting with her for a few moments. The button on her pen which she had been pressing nervously found itself suddenly out of rhythm as her thumb missed its mark. She tried to look at me; I saw her eyes quaver and vibrate, urging themselves to meet mine.
I loved to see them like this. My mouth spread into a menacing smile and my tongue swept across my teeth in a single motion. She shifted about in her seat and flipped the page in her notebook.
“Are you ready, doctor? Are you prepared to delve into a past so Hellish that it could keep you up at night, much like it has kept me awake? To hear the screams of victims so numerous that you might very well fall to the insanity that you so zealously study? I will hold nothing back, doctor. You will feel the cold steel in your hands, you will taste the blood. You will see the anguished faces of the victims of psychotic brutality. You will see flayed flesh and dismemberment, bodily fluids so vulgar you will wonder how they could have come out of a human. Killing through the eyes of the killer and the victim is nothing like it is through the eyes of the outsider. The spectator. The average person. The doctor. When I’m done with my story you may very well beg me to kill you.”
At that point I exploded in laughter, keeping my eyes baring down on her. The guard sprinted across the room and grabbed me by the shoulders, slamming me back into chair. I didn’t stop laughing for a few more moments, for the tears and fear welling in the dear doctor’s eyes kept me going. When I did stop, I spoke again.
“Well then… where shall we begin?”
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