This is an extension of Cornova's Poke wars. It is done with his permission, and is not canon.

Also, at the behest of an acquaintance, I must clarify, the Garbodor and Trubbish don't create matter from nothing when using recycle, their bullets are made from the steel skeleton they got from eating the APC.

Talon was chilled to the bone, looking at the feeding frenzy before him. The essence of Marie's plan was simple: Her Garbodor and the Trubbish, using their natural chemical-mixing abilities, could turn organic matter, rich in hydrogen and carbon, into something similar enough to jet fuel. Once they had enough, they could fly away from the fighting.

Many objections had entered Talon's mind when the plan was suggested. None of them knew how to drive the 1950s Fearow-model, and if they managed it somehow, then where would they go? It wasn't as if the disaster was localized, it wasn't as if there was anywhere they could hide. Also, what did she mean by organic matter?

His doubts were doused however, she was too eager to have a plan, after months of hiding and praying. When the undampening occurred, he had been training on route 15, east of Marvelous Bridge in the Unova region. He had been forced to run from a group of rampaging Throh, and hid inside an old military surplus depot lower down on the coast. Eventually, other trainers from the route hid there too, as it seemed to be the only safe place. Now, he looked at the war machines fighting in front of him, and was sick. Meat was the organic matter that she had spoken of.

He would have left with the other trainers, but on the first day, his leg had been snapped by rampaging Tyranitar, which had also killed his Pokémon. Marie had dragged him back to the depot, and tended to his wounds, and now he stayed because he thought he owed it to her. He was beginning to regret his decision though.

…

The leader of the group of trash bags, a monstrous Garbodor, had a different view of things. Garbodor laughed and roared and squealed, the battle making his toxic blood pump. His Mistress had made him and his brethren devour an APC, the way they devoured garbage, so its metal was incorporated into their system. Despite looking like ordinary members of their species, each Trubbish had a metal skeleton. Better yet, the Mistress had another great idea, utilizing their unseen potential. Each Trubbish also had a wide array of pistols and rifles within them, and whenever they ran out of bullets, they would simply use the move Recycle, which made any item they held ready to be used again. In this manner, they never needed to reload, and never ran out of ammo.

Garbodor crushed a Watchog underfoot, and blasted an incoming Sandslash with his trusty double barreled shotgun. A pair of Fearow swooped with vengeance in their eyes, he nailed them with Acid spray and Thunderbolt. This made Garbodor laugh again, after being so long in the Poké transfer lab; he couldn't help but learn some new tactics. He stopped a leaping Scrafty with Focus Blast, and smiled as its falling limbs were devoured by his little Trubbish. He felled an Emolga flying above with the move Psychic, a move rarely mastered by one of his kind.

Eventually the scared and scarred attackers turned tail and fled. Garbodor and his forces gave them no quarter, firing with guns and acid. Many more fell, until finally they finally hid within the safety of the forest. Then, the trash bag Pokémon went to work, eating all the meat that they could. Eventually, their hunger was sated; they saved the thunderbolt-cooked Fearow, hoping that their Mistress would like it for dinner.

As they walked up the knoll, they saw the other trainer, the He-Trainer. Garbodor had tried his best to make friends with the He-Trainer, after all, Mistress liked him, and any friend of Mistress was a friend of theirs. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to like poor Garbodor, no matter how hard he tried. Garbodor fought extra viciously in battle, hoping to impress him, but this seemed only to sicken him. He saved the best corpses for him, but this sickened him more. He made sweet smells with chemicals, and while they impressed Mistress, they had no effect on the He-Trainer. Garbodor was at the end of his wits with this predicament.

…

Talon was surprised at the trash-Pokémon's actions. As soon as they spotted him, they quickly cleaned up, as if trying to put on a good face. The Garbodor offered him an unidentifiable charred corpse, still smoking. Realizing that it was probably going to be dinner anyway, Talon gingerly took a leg, and followed the Pokémon back to the entrance of the depot.

Marie waited for him, her face troubled. But as soon as she saw the ensemble, she smiled and called them over. The Trubbish marched before their mistress and saluted gracefully, before breaking into fits of giggling. Garbodor looked disgusted at his troop's weakness, but Marie only laughed. Her smile grew as Talon approached, until she was practically beaming. "How did my little soldiers do?" she said playfully.

"They burned, murdered and consumed all before them," Talon hissed angrily.

"No need to get so antsy, they were just doing their job," she said as she ushered the group in, "besides, you're in for a treat, we have another survivor."

Talon's eyes widened "You didn't just let him in, did you?"

"Yes, she was injured," She stared at his eyes, "what's wrong with you?"

"It's been three months since the undampening, and this is the first 'survivor' we've met. I smell a fake!" Talon unsheathed his trench knife.

"Don't be so dramatic, no Ditto or ghost Pokémon live in this whole area!" Marie countered. The two continued to bicker, while Garbodor tried to ask if humans could smell fakes or not. His pleas fell on deaf ears, and eventually the Trubbish and their leader went to the various garbage piles around the depot.

…

Garbodor had gotten very philosophical over the past few months. He had tried asking Mistress if they needed He-Trainer. He seemed more trouble than he was worth, but the only thing that Mistress had said was that he may be the last He-Trainer in the whole world, and she would need him if she ever wanted children. Garbodor had tried to pry at how He-Trainer would help her procure children, but this had only embarrassed his Mistress, whose replies became very vague when presented with that subject. Garbodor suspected that this was one of those special "human" things that his Mistress spoke of, like driving a car. Garbodor had only driven a car only once in his life, back when he was a Trubbish, and though he thought he was doing a good job, Mistress was praying for her life. He had promised never to scare her like that ever again.

…

Talon stormed into the room, staring the new comer in the eyes. He was surprised to find that she was a back-Packer, just like him. A calculating look entered his eye, this fact made him more suspicious, the chance that the only survivor they had found was like him was almost nil. Quite in fact, their physique was similar; both were approximately five feet tall, with stout legs, shaggy brown hair, and grey eyes. Differences did abound of course; she looked graceful and lithe, while the same traits made him look like a mugger.

She gave him the same calculating eye, before turning her attention to something else. "Is that a Trubbish holding an assault rifle?" she asked calmly, though her eyes showed her true fear. The Trubbish held his M2 Carbine with pride, and he cleaned it carefully with a car rag.

"Unfortunately, yes." Talon said, his suspicion unwavering.

"Uh….. Why is a Trubbish holding an assault rifle?" She asked, her voice still calm.

"It was the best idea we had," Talon said, staring darkly at Marie.

"Doesn't mean it was a good idea," she said, crossing her arms. Talon noticed other things about her as well. Her eyes were shaped like his, her hands riddles with scars, probably from some Pokémon attack, her chest - suddenly; Talon became red-faced, and decided to look elsewhere than her torso.

This look didn't escape Marie, who decided to intercept. "Myra, this is Talon," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders, "and Talon, this is Myra."

"Nice to meet you, Talon," she said, her eyes calculating, "You look suspiciously like me…. You're that Ditto who's been following me, aren't you?"

Talon hissed stabbing the table with his trench knife, "Is that some joke! How do we know you're not some Ditto!"

"You live in a compound filled with Pokémon holding all manner of weaponry, while I have been running for my life from the monsters out there. The only thing that doesn't indicate that you're a Ditto is that you haven't killed me yet," she said, her voice still even.

Talon hadn't thought of it that way. He withdrew his trench knife, sheathing it. "Okay, you have a point. Guess you're going to have to see Gulpin." Talon said, his eyes scanning her for any trace of fear. There was none, but Marie wasn't too pleased.

Malamar sauntered forward, his legs too short for any fast gait. He had just ridden a Rapidash halfway across the continent, but the stupid beast had collapsed and died a few miles back, so Malamar was forced to return to his homeland on foot. He smiled when thinking of the Rapidash, It had been so eager to defend its trainer, but now its bones were amongst the dust. All he had to do was wave his tentacles about, and the Rapidash was under his power, even crushing its own trainer. He would have executed the creature mercifully, but it had insulted his gender, so he rode it into the ground.

This ruffled his tendrils, even thinking about it. Somehow, all Malamar had some superficial resemblance to human women, perhaps due to the slender body and flowing tentacle-like hair. Malamar couldn't count how many Pokémon in the east had called him female. He remembered the day a Blastoise and an Octillery had even tried to hit on him. That day was more memorable than it appeared, it was his trainer's idleness while he was embarrassed that made him run away.

All the people he hypnotized, all the possessions he stole…. And things were only getting better after the undampening. Already he was on his way home, with an important mission from his superiors. Still, the border was a few miles off, and all the walking was getting annoying.

"I never thought I would be meeting the man himself," Malamar cooed to himself, trying to ignore his sore knees "Zygarde old man, Uxie wishes to contact you."