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There is something about the game of predator and prey,
That you get so lost within the chase, the thrill of having an opponent... A victim, an enemy: prey.
That you don’t realise when it's run you straight into a trap, until it’s much too late.
Blood pounds in his ears after a hunt, his rival now in every and equal way, and his anger spikes as they once again slip away.
Philippe couldn’t pinpoint the moment he became the prey,
He only knew one day he stopped chasing a little Murkrow and began running far from a merciless Honchkrow.
A kid turned up on his gang’s turf. With golden eyes and a too sharp grin. He battled well, had some street smarts and was a troublemaker through and through.
He rampaged through his territory, stealing resources and clients in his wake... Philippe laid a deadly trap but the crow still flew away. He snatched up all his businesses as Philippe’s grip began to wane...
Playing with him, twisting him around until he collapsed under his own weight.
Philippe’s knees hit the floor hard, his Pokémon defeated just before him, his little empire crumbling all around...
A predator no longer.
Corbeau wasn’t a cruel boss, even if he liked to twist the knife. His claws snatched up many shiny things. His sharp eyes caught all the details.
Two predators couldn’t rule, but Philippe wasn’t fully prey...
Lingering at his better’s side, a vulture and in-between.
The kid had an allure that he could never compare. Dizzying in it’s cloying softness, devastatingly effective to all. He chooses his opponents wisely... Knowing just what to do.
Philippe follows any order, regardless if being second isn’t what a predator should be.
He lost the game... To Corbeau goes the spoils—the innards...
Everything.