Arsonists' Waltz, a pokémon fanfic

Author's Note: Another one-shot. I recommend everyone who reads this go to Youtube and look up 'Arsonist's Waltz' by Hans Zimmer. It's part of the soundtrack to 'Backdraft'. I'm sure you'd all appriciate the story a little more.
Anyway, this is just a one shot I wrote. Made it up and wrote it down in five minutes. Hey, inspiration strikes from many places, no?
This'll be different from my other one shots. I won't tell you the pairings. You'll notice that it's not listed in the summary, either. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own pokemon, nor any characters mentioned in this pure-work of fiction.
Warnings: Multiple Character Death, Arson, Mentions of Sex

Arsonists' Waltz

A Wonnykins Production

It's amazing that a little lighter fluid and a lit match can cause an entire building to burn so quickly. In the dead of night, the smoke is invisible, but it's a deep, black color; the oxygen keeps the blaze breathing, allowing it to grow stronger and more powerful with every second that it feeds on the laboratory. We can hear the chemicals exploding and the devices casting sparks over the flames.

Lying in bed, together, bundled under the sheets. Sleeping peacefully, one's head tucked under the other's. The room smelled of sex, their bodies of sweat.

One of the neighbors has reported the fire; the sirens sound like they're coming closer. There will be no survivors for the fire fighters to rescue. The pokemon have since been released. We can hear them, too, crying to one another, bewildered, frightened, and confused. It was the noise that probably alerted the rest of the town. They gather, drawn like moths to a light, to the blaze, screaming and shouting for the only three people that live there.

Or, used to.

The front door opens downstairs. Neither can hear the frantic conversation being had between the house's oldest occupant and the worried visitor. They do not hear the footsteps on the stairs, padding hurriedly to the room they both lie asleep in...

Even water will not subdue the beast we have created; Three lines lead up to the house, but the steady flow of water does nothing but anger the blaze. Several people call out their water pokemon, but in vain. The fire continues to burn, and we know that there will soon be nothing left but remnants. If they identify the bodies in the ashes, it will be a miracle.

We share remorse for what we have done. The two of us stand side by side, tears dripping down faces other wise devoid of emotion. They were our family, and yet their flesh is being seared off by intense heat. We do nothing to help them, to preserve their bodies. What they did was unthinkable. What they did was wrong. We should have had control over what we proceeded to do them, yet we could not hold back.

We regret it dearly.

Their bedroom door opens, and the female screeches, rousing them from their sleep. The older man yells at them, screams at them, and the older of the two in bed screams back. The smaller one cowers.

Oranges, reds, and yellows pour into the sky as the fire begins to die, having nothing left to live on but rubble. Slowly, the home and the laboratory begin to collapse. A life time of research goes down with the lab, and a family's history die with the home. We stare at this, wondering where we went wrong. Wondering if there was something we could have done to prevent ourselves from doing what we did, this night.

The townspeople are mourning; no survivors have been found. Pokemon in the fields run loose, finally free. They call for their trainers, which, we know, are far from here, unaware as to what has happened to this place. Two pokemon flee far away, not looking back. They are the only two to know the true cause of the accident.

For now, at least.

The adults leave, and the two in bed discuss what they must do. Slowly, the get out of the bed where they shared their passion only minutes before, dressing silently. They prepare themselves for their next task.

The smoke has died away. Lights must be put up for the marshal to view the scene of the once proud structure. We know that we must leave, now. There is some hope for us, that no one will ever know it was us that lit the house on fire, or destroyed two of the people we loved most. We will run while we still have the chance.

With the starless sky over head, we flee into the night.

"-And tonight, Tim, we have a breakthrough on the largely investigated arson of the famous Samuel Oak's home and laboratory: The professor and a woman who police identify as Delilah Ketchem were apprehended today after they were seen fleeing Pallet Town. Police say that the suspects returned to the scene of the crime, where witness say they were mourning their two victims: Gary Oak and Ash Ketchem. As of now, police say that no motive for the murders of the young men has come to light, but they are working closely with the apprehended suspects so that they may provide answers for the public. More on that story later..."

Before they even had a chance to leave, the light cast by the open door was silhouetted by the two adults once more. Gary went down first; his own grandfather watched as the shot hit him between the eyes, shock and surprise written all over his young face as he fell backwards.

Ms. Ketchem came forward next, just as Ash started to scream. She knocked him down, pinning him to the floor. She said nothing, and had no emotion in her eyes as the professor put the end of the gun to the boy's head and squeezed the trigger. She merely wiped her apron of the blood and stood once more.

They had paused in the doorway to look at the only remaining family they'd had; Ash's hand had dropped, limply, into Gary's, almost as if they had planned their death before hand. Even in death, they defied their superiors.

The lighter fluid was dribbled over their hands. The match was placed between their fingers. For a moment, the adults stood side by side and watched that match burn down. They only left as the boys' joined hands burst into flames.

Flames lick their backs as they walk slowly out the back door. The flames dance to the tune of the 'Arsonist's Waltz'. Bodies burn, lives smolder, life flutters away like ashes.

We regret everything.

Author's Note: Oooo, twist ending! Bet no one was expecting THAT! ;D Read and Review. Dedicated to AnimeDutchess, because she's just awesome like that. :3