Chamber 23 Blues

by Stormiie

The world of Pokemon has changed and when two brothers and a human are sent to an army organization called P.O.P that is meant for training Pokemon for the battlefeild They will make a stand through music. The only question whose a friend and whose a foe?

1. Breakout

Name- Chamber 23 Blues

Story Summary- This is a story of two brothers, and of a place called The Army. P.O.P is an Pokemon Operation, their mission? Use Pokemon as slaves and experiments to the army. Who will stop this madness? Tyson, Nuri, and Chamber 23 of course.

Characters introduced-

Tyson, the narrator for now, an Quilava with an major attitude but a soft spot for his younger brother. He hates his mother for her betrayal, but thats for another time...

Nuri is Tyson's younger brother, sweet and charming, the poor 1-year-old has a killer stutter and a miserble aura. He yearns for the love his mother gave him. He wears a yellow scarf, a rememberance of his forgotten mother.

Chapter Summary- Tyson and Nuri are introduced. So are the mysteries of their long-lost mother. Not only that but the Breakout begins.

Authors Notes- Hey, this is Stabb. I was currently 'Jordan And Kirby' but I decided to start over. Dont worry, J & K's stories will be updated but for now they are on hold due to writers block. Please review I believe this story has tons of potential. Dont worry, I did a few chapters before hand so they'll come regulary.

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"From now until the end of the world, we and it shall be remembered. 

We few, we Band of Brothers. 

For he who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother."

- William Shakespeare ("King Henry V")

Chapter 1 – The Breakout

"Damn, you couldn't pick any other day for it to fucking snow!?!"

The frost seemed to bite all the way down Tyson's toes and eat up his ankles, snow floated on his eyelashes and his nose – all numb. Of course, his girth was bubbly and warm, feeling as if a respirator compared to his fingers that touched the mushy moist flakes of fresh snow, but that was only natural, most flame pokemon power came from the flaps in their bellies, which was always a comfortable temperature…. as for everything else though…
"Ow, ow, ow, cold, cold, stupid perspiration…" Tyson muttered through clenched teeth, as he trudged to the waist high snow that was sticking to him like hot butter stuck to a lukewarm knife. He bent his curved head down to shield his shoulders from the blundering wind that was licking his back – making his whole body squirm with the unnatural cold. Tyson was never used to cold… And his back was the most vulnerable place in his whole body, it all quivered, but when the frozen licks brushed his back he felt jolts of shivers spiral through him and an unexpected urge to scream his head off. It hurt so damn much as it matted the heat sensitive orange spots on his back, that they began to glow dimly, and break open, in order to fight of the cold threatening to freeze the inner core of Tyson's power.
Tyson was a flame pokemon or what other pokemon enjoyed calling them Ignis meaning 'to set the fire upon' in Latin. He was a Quilava, evolution of their counterpart Cyndaquil, and devolution of Typhlosion – probably the strongest thing in the heart of the Gyre, his home. (The Gyre meaning 'pedestal' was named because of the unusual hill shapes that was found throughout the quaint forest valley, the twists and turns and bellowed openings in their bases were common and earned the place of its nickname. But humans just call it the Viridian.) But unlike many Ignis pokemon, Quilava's ignition pouch are not located in the under bearing of their throats (Like, for example, Charmanders, and Vulpixes) they do not ignite the fire; by the mixture of hot helium breath and flammable liquids in their saliva. They are located in their nerves and liver. The blood has a range of hormones able to spark and light, and the liver creates the fire through cleansing – and in a matter of seconds white hot flames begin the emit from the Quilava's tail, mouth, and back, thanks to the connections of nerves piecing it all together. And with not much surprise, the most sensitive joint of fire was Tyson's "Sunspots" (his own fond little nickname) and the wind was tearing the binds of skin open easily – black puss leaking from their mouths…
Ty mounded some of the black puss together on his back, he knew, that the puss was really a defense mechanism created by his body and identifiable by instinct. The puss would harden and bunch together to create a makeshift seal as his Sunspots warmed gradually - it would keep the cold at bay from killing him.
"Fucking disgusting this is…" He groaned as he felt it tighten its grip on his Sunspots, though lifesaving, it was not clean…
Tyson peered through the white lashes from the lumpy snow, and sneezed softly. He had a mission. An important one might he say, he was on the search for charcoal. Now, as you must've guessed it wasn't like charcoal that were pounded together in grills, this charcoal was so old and natural, it was almost as if dust in the paws of the Quilava. The charcoal wasn't for him mostly either, (even though he was sure he'd chug down a rough handful) it was for his brother – Nuri.
Nuri, the young little Cyndaquil, head buried in the clouds of stories and dreams, innocent and naïve about life – in other words young, exactly a year old. Even though Tyson thought of himself as an wise member of the earth he knew that he was young and foolish also, only three years, he was abandoned to care for his sweet little brother.

What a joy.

And as a growing young Cyndaquil, Nuri needed doses of charcoal every month to regularly feed his fire intake, it was only natural to tend to the small flame stirring in his belly, barely enough to make his back embark in sparks. This was so his flaming attacks would strengthen in time, and protect his belly with a firm line of char to keep it from destroying itself in ashes. Natural for all Cyndaquil's until they evolved. And as seeing the supply had dwindled with the strange forte of cool, it was becoming more demanding of the little beast. So he was off, to the caverns, where most of the minerals were buried beneath the scrabble of vines and twisted tree roots.
Tyson blundered a bit as he began to trot close to it now, his heart rate at neck breaking speed as he leaned down from the minor cliff that hung above the caverns like a drapery over an curtain pole. He was always anxious when he looked over that sheer fall, it wasn't much really, and he had done it about a hundred times in his youth, but every time his neck arched over the tumble his heart would race and the air in his lungs would hold still, his forehead musky in sweat. Sighing, Tyson took a few cautious steps back, like stepping into a bath, he then lurched eyes squeezed tight – and he was suspended in air, in calming black…till gravity took over. His chest hit first, and hard, he moaned as he felt the beads of blood probe from his chest along with the rosy red skin now spreading over the slick black. Good thing the bucket was tied upwards his chest, or he'd be in real trouble. Tyson struggled as he shakily lumbered on all fours, readjusting the pale yellow bucket tied with a piece of yarn round his neck uncomfortably. It itched horrendously. Tucking his fireproof leathery lips in the depths of his dry mouth, Tyson gave a quick yelp as he thumbed the large flower petal shaped wound on his chest, usually he never got much worse than a scrape on the knee, but this time he had hadn't been watching his feet therefore slamming into his chest instead of his bottom, which was a much more comfortable landing perch. He heaved in a breath, and then readjusted the bucket tied close to his throat – it felt as if the damned bucket was cutting of his circulation.
Tyson turned in alarm as the sudden arousal smell of buttery oils and peppery rock awakened him, and he turned to see the cavern in its true glowing light.
The cavern wasn't much than a few walls balled together to make a small living space no larger than a secluded closet, known for the supply of minerals and most of all the small family of agitated Spearows who just loved to see Tyson snooping around their home, nicking off pieces of their walls.
"Ugh, this gets me more excited each time I come…" Tyson snarled in the dark musk of his breath and twitched his nose. It was close to Sundown, the sky a warm enchanting shade of pink and orange, so the Spearows would be resting by now, or off early on their hunt which meant a clear break for Tyson. Even with the break though, Tyson would have to be quiet, the family had always been a bit unpredictable.
Tyson leaned low into the ground, suppressing the urge to shout when his ruby red chest heaved into the clomps of snow, and felt the frozen ice melt and surrender to the warmth in his girth. It felt a little better despite the low hiss that waved off from the melting snow, Tyson shut them tight ready for impact, nothing.

Prowling as if a Persian on the hunt, Tyson snaked his way around the dark entrance of the cavern to the side of its walls – the ashy color dully met Tyson's eyes with a glimmer, and a smile peeked from his lips. Gradually getting up, he neared the wall, one hand at the side; he brushed the chalky smell that rose in his throat and saw as the charcoal dust littered the too-white snow. Tyson grinned. He became to scratch and nibble at the wall, feeling it crumble under the power of his claws, which had incensed over the time of his evolution, God it all felt so long ago…
Shrugging away the unwanted thoughts of his evolution, he began to fill the pale yellow bucket to the brim, the charcoal power filling his lungs with unheard power. He scooped up a handful and brought it to his lips, the dust entered and slid down his throat easily – tasteless.

The surge in his body was a holy feeling, it began to pulse in the heart of his veins and most of all his girth was retreating its comfortable warm state into a hot blinding fire. He leaned his head back, dizzy and disoriented from the power he gave a goofy smile and waddled a bit drunk in his own scalding influence.
"Ech….hiccup…..this be a mighty fine day eh?" Tyson commented to the faceless wrinkled boulder that sat on the edge of the cliff's run off. When there was no reply Tyson just laughed madly and tapped the end of the boulders hinds.
"That'd be a mighty good fella eh? The day a piece of shit anyway eh?"

Tyson placed a paw over his girth, on two legs, feeling the heat sink into his fingertips he yelped and flashed his hand away as if on fire, which it sort of was, it left large red welts on his fingers.
The unwanted pain seemed to awake Tyson from his daydreams, and he shook his head in a frantic fashion eyes wide.
"Jeez, I really shouldn't have this stuff anymore, ugh, too…. too…. dizzy…" He slurred as he began to catch on to his consciousness. His brain felt as if it was toddling a thin strap of metal, and it was searing into its pink tissue. Rubbing his temples with the points of his knuckles he felt relief begin to flood his core as the dizziness began to fade into sheer light feet, he strolled up to the cliff – feeling the new bred power the charcoal had ignited inside him.

It didn't soap away the feeling of disgruntlement when he tilted his head to see the climb.
"Ugh…not fun…." Tyson sighed, and tightened the bucket that hung from his neck, making sure the lid was sealed and the charcoal was safely tucked inside. He then wiped off some snow – which his body seemed to have numbed to – and popped out his claws that were hidden a ruff of fur. Nail biting into rock, he climbed, and it was a difficult process since each step had to be calculated and the claws had to dig into the earth far enough so they'd hook in like tacks to a bulletin board. His legs began to shake and tremor, since they were holding up most his weight they began to hurt terribly and Tyson was barely halfway. He growled a throaty purr, and then urged his body to keep going as his left flank claws began to sink into the rock as easily as a knife sinking into concrete. Damn it bloody well hurt. Feeling the concoction of blood matt between his fingers his brain returned to the idea of the rough made latter that had been resting in the crevice at the top of the rock formation. The snow must've eaten it away, he thought angrily thinking of the six months it took to gather all that wood, damn waste…barely lasted fall…
He sighed, not used to this climbing experience, and as he bungled up his last few steps, he thought that maybe he'd carve grooves into the rock so that he'd never have to leap or climb again.
As he finally rested his legs among the moist snow he sighed, the blistering fire in his girth had dimmed to its warm candlelit state, melting away the snow around him. The Quilava stood up and wobbled a bit, his legs harder than rock, he twisted the bucket so it laid upon his rose petal chest and then he was off legs straining. The run wasn't a far ways off thankfully, and Tyson's legs felt eager with the thought of being able to rest, and his haunches itched in excitement in the thought of food, which he knew was wedged between the his home's entrance and an abandoned Caterpie nest. It all made him run faster, despite the pounds of charcoal wrapped around his neck.
In a matter of ten minutes he had made it, and the ache in his legs had weakened to his great happiness. He ducked between some dead hovering branches and saw the gully laying like an open mouth, the end of it a deep dank hole, sputtering open to him. He approached the gully, and took quiet steps to the burrow entrance, Tyson and Nuri's mother had constructed the burrow before Tyson was born, and the sides of it were looking as if able to cave in, soft lips to the mouth.
Mom….

No, no! He wouldn't think of that devil woman! Of that traitor! The woman who left both her sons, the only trace of her – a yellow scarf! His temper flared, just the thought of Nuri, with the yellow scarf tied loyally around his neck. He didn't understand what his mother had actually done. She'd left him, left him to the care of his brother.
Tyson decided to leave his dwindling anger here, Nuri didn't deserve to be yelled at for no reason, and Tyson then leapt into the burrow.
The soft dirt was warm thanks to the glimmering fire that was held in the small room of the burrow, it was low and weak, but the dirt radiated the hot earth and kept the place comfortably warm. Tyson nosed his way through the place, surprised by the disappearance of his brother, nothing of him for the exception of food askew on the burrow floor. Damn kid can't take care of his own crap; Tyson thought as he moodily cleaned up the mess and entered the other room – Nuri's.
As he thought there was Nuri, huddled in the corner, his back covered in mushy dirt that served as a great blanket it almost hid all his Sunspots. The Cyndaquil twitched, eyes shut closed, and he raised his nose to the air, sniffing out Tyson. He found him,

The Cyndaquil yanked himself from sleep and had a large grin plastered to his face, his mother's scarf hung around his neck loosely and he sprang for his brothers embrace, and as intended Tyson let him,
"B-b-brother! Your huh-huh-here!" Tyson frowned at his stutter; the boy had picked it up after a gruesome Mightyena attack, at first Tyson had tried to teach him to talk normally, but it didn't work it only lead to frustration and self-loathing to the little guy. And even though his lips stuttered, his eyes surely didn't they were bright with glee and admiration Tyson's heart burned.
"Yeah, got your stuff here to boyo. You should take a few chugs 'fore you go to sleep."
Tyson untied the bucket (his neck dancing with thanks) and set it to the mossy floor, unscrewing the top leaving it wide open like a bucket of black sand.
"Brother! G-g-guess w-what? I-I fought s-s-s-s-s-om-om-m," The boy struggled with the word as it jittered off his lips, his eyes squished together hard and his body quivering he let the stutter go on until Tyson interrupted him.
"Some?"
"Nuh-nuh-no."
"Somersault?"
"No!"
"Som—"
"Suh-suh-suh- Something!" He yelled in exhaustion as the word rolled from his tongue.
"You fought it?" Tyson asked eyes wide.
"Wuh-wuh-well…not exactly…." Tyson quirked an eyeball at the timid Cyndaquil.
"I g-growled at i-i-t! It was th-there, at the en-en-en-en entrance, it made a noise and wuh-wuh-wuh-went away!" He insisted, arms waving frantically. Tyson smiled with sweet admiration and nuzzled his younger brothers neck fondly.
"I see, what do you reckon it was?" He asked quizzically.

"Erm, I d-d-on't kno-o-o-w, but it was big." He claimed with a large grin wiped on his face, Tyson gave a warm smile, actually relieved his brother was learning to defend himself. It always made Tyson horribly anxious when he left his baby brother to the hands of the burrow, he'd wander – with a broken heart – what Nuri would do if Tyson…. never came back. The thought chilled him; the boy was way too young to barely produce an ember, the most that came from his lungs was murky smoke. No, no, Tyson couldn't fail his brother no matter what came to him he'd fight it off with an intense flare, just so he could go home to see his baby brothers stutter. He kissed the boys forehead, and gave him a minor childish noogie. The boy squealed in excitement as the tickle fest began. Rolling in the dirt with pure laughter ringing in the burrow like bells clanging in a church. Nuri rolled on his backside, giggles toppling on his tongue as he raced out to the front of the burrow. Tyson close behind, followed, and lurched for the Cyndaquil clasping on to him with the underbelly of his paws, Nuri wriggled in his grip yelping.
"Oh-okay! Stop, st-stop, stop!" He demanded, the strange authority coloring his lips. Tyson smiled, and released the tike who scrambled from his arms desperate to escape another tickling fest. Tyson then walked back to Nuri's room the bucket with the unhooked seal was still there, patiently waiting to be emptied of. Tyson beckoned Nuri to come, and the little Cyndaquil came cautiously, eyes glued to Tyson's untrustworthy hands. Tyson laughed, and then nudged the bucket to him, it pressed gently to his shin. Nuri groaned and leaned into Tyson, pushing the bucket as far as he could.

"Brother. I-I duh-duh-ont wanna! It ma-ma-kes me feel wuh-wuh-wuh-weird!" He whined, and buried his head into Tyson shoulder, pushing the bucket until it dipped into the moist wall. Tyson repositioned him on his lap and looked the little guy in his two big copper eyes, glimmering in disapproval.

"Now Nuri, it'll make you feel a good weird. And besides, you need it, it'll help you grow up big and strong." Tyson said, recalling the words his mother spoke to him when he was forced to chug down the charcoal. Nuri's scarf wavered as he fingered its wool sides.

"Ugh…i-i-its so nas-s-ty!" Nuri groaned and dipped his head back in surrender, as he finally let Tyson scarf the charcoal down his throat. It tickled like grounded pepper.
Nuri then snarled so deeply it felt like a throaty purr in the breast of his chest. The charcoal took its normal effect, firing up his girth making his body sweat and shake. His Sunspots flared up on his back, in a enraged glowing flame, smoked curled from his nostrils and he could taste its flaky flavor. Nuri let the snarl keep growing in his chest, and with subconsciously cringed away from Tyson who watched with strange fascination as he did every time. Nuri felt as if a coward.

"Jeez, Nuri you okay?" He asked as if voice flickered between concern and awe. Nuri groaned, as the fire on his back grew larger licking the mushy roof.
"It's getting harder to deal with." His rough tone and sense of maturity – and also the absence of his stutter, surprised Tyson. Where the hell did that come from? He thought with a sudden sense of brotherly worry blossoming in his chest. Nuri began to sway, eyes closed, and Sunspots now embarked in orange flames, his scarf in danger of being scalded. He then opened his eyes.

They were black.
Tyson gasped, and backed away heart in a scurry as he felt it flutter in his chest. Nuri with black eyes? What was this doing to him! Usually the guy just had his Sunspots flare and then dim down with time, this was different. A lot different.

Tyson reached out for him, his shimmering black eyes like smoothed dark pebbles in a steam. The boy ducked from him and tucked his face between his legs, flame embedding and becoming hotter, blue twirling around the red and orange. He smashed his eyes closed, and then the flame began to die becoming nothing more than a small blaze, barely licking the air. He opened his eyes, and they were copper once more.
"Whoa. Th-that was wuh-wuh-weird!" He bellowed out happily, and his stutter erupted back in his throat again. Tyson sighed in relief, his heart rate dying down. What was that? The thought was leering in his mind, ripping it all up in his heart, he decided that he'd worry over the matter when Nuri went to sleep. He nudged the excited Cyndaquil with the tip of his nose and gave a meager smile.
"Come one big guy, time to sleep."

"Awwww." Nuri groaned and hung his head with a disgruntled look upon his face, as Tyson escorted him back to his nest, the soft warm dirt a better blanket than anything, and the boy nestled himself deep into the bed, breath gentle. His voice was barely above an whisper.
"Sing the lul-lul-aby." His husky breath ordered. Tyson gave a fond smile and a nuzzle as he dipped his head near his little brothers, and began to sing.
"She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette

She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget

We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time

But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind

Until the night"

The lullaby had no name, no real history. The only origin of it was their mother…who had heard it once by her father, and used to sing it to Nuri every night - her voice butter to your ears. Beautiful and heart breaking the song was, and every night Nuri cried and craved it.
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger

And finally drank away her memory

Life is short but this time it was bigger

Than the strength he had to get up off his knees

We found him with his face down in the pillow

With a note that said I'll love her till I die

And when we buried him beneath the willow

The angels sang a whiskey lullaby

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Tyson had inherited his mothers voice obviously. His singing felt as if an angel was crooning him to sleep than his brother. His voice was smooth and also rugged, and once the notes hit the right places Nuri felt goose flesh pimple on his skin, a chill down his spine. Tyson's eyes were closed, his heart drowning in the songs tragedy.

The rumors flew but nobody know how much she blamed herself

For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath

She finally drank her pain away a little at a time

But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind

Until the night

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Nuri began to shake, and tears peeked from his eyes, and burned them painfully. He clung to Tyson for dear life, suppressing sobs. "Muh-muh-mommy…" His voice trailed in utter despair of the song and of his lack of a mother. The Cyndaquil tugged harder on his scarf and cried harder than ever, Tyson's voice wavered to a stop, but then Nuri tugged on his chest. "No….fi-finish it…."
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger

And finally drank away his memory

Life is short but this time it was bigger

Than the strength she had to get up off her knees

We found her with her face down in the pillow

Clinging to his picture for dear life

We laid her next to him beneath the willow

While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.

The song started to end, and Nuri's cries melted into heartbreaking sniffles as he dug his head deeper into Tyson's chest. The Quilava's beautiful voice echoed the burrow, leaving everything in silence; even the fire dimmed down to honor the song and the mystical voice that spoke it. It notes and melodies died there, as the two lovers in the song, and Nuri's eyes began to close, dried tears cracking on his cheeks. He fell asleep, a hand full of knotted Tyson hairs.

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Tyson paws ran swiftly through Nuri's fur, it tangled and untangled through his fingers as his lips squished in confusion. He tilted back his head, holding the sleeping Nuri in his hands, feeling his breath leaning into his chest, was calming the monster of thoughts plummeting his way.
How had Nuri done that? Diminished his stutter, made his eyes turn stone black, and made Tyson have shivers slither though his body. How? Was it the charcoal? Tyson was absolutely sure it was – it had to be. No more. He thought with a hint of sadness. He wasn't sure what initiated the end of charcoal feeding, but he was pretty sure Nuri was close to ending it, and becoming a true Ignis. He was surprised by the wave of sad sick emotions gliding over his heart. Nuri was growing up. Soon he'd wouldn't be as care free and loving, he'd be an mature and true Ignis, not only that but Tyson was just counting down the days till his evolution…that thought scared the hell out of him.

Argh, you sound like a in denial parent. Tyson thought to himself as he leaned his head back into the squishy wall. He pretty much was, raising Nuri for a year now, he was almost a dad to the guy – almost. He knew that he'd never overshadow his mothers sweet caring figure, her gentle honey voice and soft words. It all flared in his heart and blossomed anger that made his heart flutter in his chest. The traitor. The backstabber. To just abandon her two sons in the cold of night, the only evidence of her a raggedy scarf she tied around her foreleg. Now Nuri couldn't part with it or the memory of his mother, even with her indisputable actions. Tyson gave an almost inaudible sigh, maybe he was just too young to understand the dealings of her leaving, or maybe…he refused to believe it?
Tyson clenched his bottom lip with his teeth and looked into the head of Nuri, his Sunspots black with char from the previous fire, and he dusted them off lovingly. No, Nuri wasn't a baby. He was grown—or growing—but he certainly was no baby, just inexperienced. Just as Tyson thought before, Nuri was growing up, and he was learning more and growing stronger everyday. The boy was in denial, and Tyson could understand with a ache starting to brood in his heart. He had been in denial too, at first. While trying to clumsily take care of an crying baby Cyndaquil he had kept chanting to himself with a jittery heart. She's coming back, he'd think as he cradled the crying babe in his arms, she has to! She wouldn't leave us! Probably just had to go on a long hunt…yeah…a hunt… and then he'd keep attending young Nuri, feeding him a pain of smoke and little twirls of fire, and bathing him even more of a challenge.
The thoughts of Nuri's early baby days made Tyson want to gag. It had been rough, he of course never raised a child, and to make it worse was Nuri's constant stutter that he tried restlessly to put to a stop. But it never did. It actually got worse after his mothers leaving, and Tyson knew they were related. His brother was in pain.
Tyson felt his haunches tense, and the hand stroking his brothers fur stop in mid stroke. His brother was hurting…and he had been too blind to see it. Cursing his stupid existence he felt a snarl bury beneath the flaps of his throat, felt the hot pockets of his fire storage begin to rove in his body and his body numb to its silent rage. He'd been so stupid, he'd been so oblivious to the boy's pain…but he could feel it now, like a white-hot knife to cool skin. It was searing. Tyson nuzzled the boys head fondly, and gave a hoarse whisper in his throat.
"We're going to talk when you wake up. You need to know you're not alone."

BAM

…That wasn't the answer I was expecting, he thought idly. Of course it wasn't the now awoken Nuri darting his copper colored eyes anxiously around the burrow. It was from outside. And it was close.
Tyson rose immediately, his little brother toppling from his arms. Tyson rose a nose to the air, and gave a whiff. It smelled as if….something was…..burning? He scrambled up from the nest, and replayed the boom in his head. It was a bit muffled, but it was defiantly close, not only that but it sounded like nothing he ever heard of. He was absolutely certain it wasn't a dispute between pokemon. It was more thunderous and hardy. It scared the living daylights out of him.
"Bruh-bruh-other! What's h-h-h-happen-en-en-en," Tyson silenced him with a paw to his lean maw, his stuttering now out of control due to fear was bruising his heart. He didn't look at the boy when he said his reply in a soft tone.
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

"C-can I come?" Nuri asked in desperate need of information, molten eyes still aroused in fear, Tyson could hear his pumping heartbeat breaking way in his chest.
"Sure, but only to the 'mouth'" He sighed in surrender, and hoisted the boy on his back as he sprung to the mouth of the burrow. He could see with surprise that part of the burrow had caved in. Half of the dirt was spilled inside, making it a tight fit to mold between the soil and grass, especially with a trembling little Cyndaquil clutching on your back. Tyson peeked from the tiny hole the burrow had left of a lip, feeling Nuri's scarf tickle his neck and let his skin break out in goose flesh. His heart stopped.
"O-o-oh, muh-muh-muh, god."
Nuri's words were drifted away in the screams and howls of pokemon, in the muffled gunshots and men screaming bloody murder. Tyson didn't even hear him.
The snow which only hours' before was a beautiful white had turned cold, hard, and black. Looking almost as if rotting marble to a piece of the carven. It was sullen, mixed in with hot ruby red blood, guns were discarded and not only that but there were things littered among the floors, they were wrinkled and shriveled they looked as if they were…. they were…. bodies. Of pokemon, littered about, some massacred others shot in the head and tossed carelessly aside, some were rushed through with bullets. Tyson quickly grabbed Nuri, turned him under his belly and covered his eyes. Too late. The boy was crying, hot salty tears running down his face so badly it hurt, his howls of pain were softened by the gentle touch of Tyson but they were still there, rich in heartbroken pain. The Cyndaquil began to tremble, clinging to his brother for dear life as he reviewed the thoughts of the dead pokemon, more importantly the men—tall with cedar caps and navy uniforms—bagging them or capturing live ones. Flying away in long elongated monsters, their teeth jagged in the grill of their mouths shredding the black snow, black from fire. Fire that was flagging all over the trees was burning and scalding pokemon, and was armed in the hands of the men, they were holding the fire! Nuri thought with scared and stifled gasps, Tyson pulled him in closer and quietly chanted his lullaby to him, to calm him, it was blurry in the mist of the sounds of war but still there. For the first time it didn't calm Nuri much.
"M-m-m-make th-th-them s-s-s-s-stop!!" His stutter was loud and unable to get a hold of, Tyson squeezed closer to his chest, he gave a yelp of fright.
"Shh, its okay."
"NO! NO, N-N-N-O! I WANT MOM! I WANT H-HER!" He wailed uncontrollably flailing in Tyson's arms, crying out for her. Tyson couldn't believe the hurt blooming in his chest, the pain that was buried in the boy, and how much he couldn't mend it no matter how many sweet words he uttered to him. Tears ran from his eyes, for the dead and captured pokemon, and for his baby brother – dead inside.

The boy was trying to fight off Tyson, his pain so great and loud that he couldn't be bound by his arms. He struggled, bit and clawed at his skin and Tyson flinched in the small nips of torturing pain. But refusing to let go. Nuri slapped away his hands, opening his copper eyes and giving Tyson a good kick in the face. He recoiled, falling backwards and clutching his nose. Nuri could feel the tingle go up his foot from the feeling of Tyson's nose crunching under his heel. He hoped he didn't break it. The boy then scrambled through the tight fit of the burrow's wounded lip, and leaped from its core, feeling the musky hot wind pelt him from the right. His opened the lay of the land perfect. The trucks were rushing around their tires ravishing the ground in angry swipes, helicopters wings brushing the dead burning trees branches like feather wings, and the drone of their robotics made Nuri grasp his head in absolute pain. His heart swelled as he saw the pokemon, a Caterpie lain dead in the brush its skull crushed and body swamped in blood, a Pinsir with one long tooth ripped from its head, squealing in pain as a soldier dragged him away, blood flowing in quarts over his hands, and the most heartbreaking – a Swablu being torn away from its dead mother, her wings torn from her body, both of their wings drenched in blood.

Horrified, Nuri stood amidst the blaze of pain and cries, the rears and shots that were no longer muffled but loud and angry like the crack of lighting. Tears began to dribble from his chin. He needed his mother. He needed her voice and faint touch. God, he needed her. And through the mist he didn't hear the footsteps trudging up behind him.

"Why, a clean one? Rare, but not for long." The voice was rich and with a heavy southern accent, even though Nuri was unsure of what the human meant. He knew it wasn't good. He squealed and beat the soldier with the bits of his fists and tried to scramble away. But he was too weak, and too slow. The soldier snatched the cuff of his scarf , holing him up by it as if a noose and gave a devilish smile as another hand snaked to his throat, his pistol was clenched through the fingers. The Cyndaquil gave a yelp, trying to kick away from him, and trying to warm up his girth for just a spot of fire. Nothing came but peppery smoke.
"A fighter? I wonder where you've been all these hours," Hours?!? Nuri thought frantically. "Ugh, I'm so tired of ya'll little ones, you bore the shit out of me, and I'll just get rid of you before I have to pack you to the truck too." The soldier secured his cedar cap, and then yanked off Nuri's scarf in one hand, letting it fall like a feather to the ground. Nuri thrashed in his arms, kicking and screaming for his scarf. He bit hard on one of the soldiers fingers who groaned in pain and swatted his snout away and Nuri felt it begin to bloom in red.
"MINE! TH-TH-ATS MUH-MUH-MINE!" He shouted out, his neck feeling naked without his mothers scarf sweet embrace to his throat. His mothers soul was knitted in that scarf, he wouldn't let it waste in the ruins of blood and black char.
The soldier was now angry, not understanding the Cyndaquil; he rolled the barrel of his black and sleek pistol, it feeling cold in his hands. He popped in a golden bullet, and clicked it closed with experience. He then cocked it back, and let the nose of the gun kiss Nuri's squirming head, and forced it into his mouth. Nuri could taste the metallic flavor, and he cried in fright as he understood that the pistol would kill him.
"Taste bullet little one." The soldier ruffed and shoved the pistol deeper into Nuri's mouth, Nuri feeling as if ready to gag.
"LET HIM GO YOU BASTARD!"

Tyson's angry shout stopped the soldier looking around to see where the noise came from he was interrupted to a bite to his arm and the crunch that followed it. Tyson's head and back was aflame, the fire burned with a blue intensity from the anger sprouting from his voice. His girth was so hot it scalded to the touch, and his nerves were on edge, jittery and bubbling with excitement. Nuri fell to the ground along with the pistol—that had fallen from his lips thankfully—once he touched the ground the pistol fell shortly after, pointed to the soldier it blew off shooting the man in the leg who was already wailing in pain with a Quilava attached to his elbow.
"OWWW! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL!" He yelled with ferocity as the bullet lodged itself into his ankle as he swung off Tyson whose teeth were layered in blood. Blood began to leak from his shoe and soak his socks and the cuff of his pants, he yelled in agony as he fell to his knees sliding off his socks and shoes revealing a dark red gash tissue laying around its flesh and chunks of meat clinging to bone that was snow white against the red. Ow.
"I'LL KILL YA! I'LL KILL YA BOTH!" He lunged for them, madness in his eyes and blood on his lip. Tyson sprinted fro his brother protecting him from the man, and let out a burst of fire that splayed from his mouth. Blue and red thrust themselves onto the man, letting him light up in blistering flames. He stopped and put his shaking hands to his face screaming bloody murder as he rolled in the ashy snow, which just ignited the fire more, and it reared back and snapping at his cedar cap now putting his blonde locks in flames. And then he stopped moving, writhing and twitching disappeared, as did the flame – and the breath. He was dead. Oh my god… Tyson thought in horror as he clasped his paw to his mouth eyes wild with fright. I killed somebody! I killed somebody! No, he relieved the world of somebody! Didn't he? He saved his little brother from having his brains plowed out by a bullet, and rid the world of another evil human. Right? Something in his gut clenched, and it felt so wrong. This person had family…. Friends….maybe his own little brother….
He felt sick to his stomach.
He had to suppress the urge to vomit.
"Br-br-other? I-I-I-m-m-m s-s-s-s," Nuri began but Tyson cut him off.
"Don't do it again." His voice was hard and cold, it scared him.
"Oka-a-a-y." Nuri's stutter was worsening with each second and he guessed it was the shock and the chaos. It was making his throat quell.
Suddenly a net incased Tyson, his flame had disappeared and his Sunspots were still glowing with the newly bred fire. The net a neon green was held by a shaking little boy, eyes wide and caught in nervousness and fear. He turned around, skinny as ever and red hair licking his face.
"G-got him sir!"
Oh no, Tyson turned to Nuri whose eyes were full of disbelief. Shaking was now absolutely audible and he had a trembling voice. Thankfully he was so small the red head boy didn't notice him.
"GO! GO RIGHT NOW NURI, AND DON'T YOU LOOK BACK! KEEP GOING! TO THE BURROW, IF I GET BACK OR NOT!!" He screamed in an aching voice. The command unstable he shook his head in displeasure. No, not his brother! He was all he had left!
"N-n-n-o! No brother!"
"GO!"

The Cyndaquil's copper eyes grew red with tears and he grabbed his scarf in one hand and scuttled away as fast his little feet could take him and leaped into a bush near the gulley of the burrow. Thank god, Tyson thought as he saw his brother shield himself in the bristle of branches. He was safe.
"Got the Quilava that killed Lieutenant Hawthorn sir." The boy said a shake in his voice as he tossed the net to the older man, a white freckly beard on his chin. He wrinkled it and gave a smile, the boy though didn't return it, he seemed to focused on not looking down at the well-cooked body of Lieutenant Hawthorn.
"Good job, Private. We'll keep this one, if he's strong enough to kill a soldier he'll be valuable."
"Aye, General."
"Good, now what are you doing? Go out there and get me more strong ones!"
"Uh yuh-yuh-yes sir!" The boy then ran frantically from the General who now had Tyson in his clutches. Tyson growled trying to embark a fire, but nothing came and he felt panic well in his throat. The net was defiantly fire proof, proved the neon green, rubbery exterior. The General swung him by his hip as if a toy as he calmly walked through the massacre to a large fat navy colored bus, and was tossed and locked in a cage, its cramped corers a stress on Tyson's haunches. His body was worn, so tired and stressed it immediately melted in the sight of rest. They were aching in pain, his fire girth used up and he felt almost empty from the lack of color and fire in the pit of his stomach. He groaned the image of Lieutenant Hawthorn imprinted in his brain, he stuck his mouth through the bars and vomited, his stomach emptying itself in shame. He was a murderer.
"Hey look! A new one!" A grouchy voice echoed in Tyson's ears, at least it wasn't human.
"Yeah, and look he barfed! Ugh." Another squeaky one replied and Tyson shrugged their voices his brain and heart aching horridly.
Nuri was gone. He'd never see him again, and he'd be on his own, to fend himself in the wild. What if another attack broke out? Or an officer got him on the way to the gulley? The thoughts made him panic, and made him squeal when he realized he'd be powerless to it. To his brothers death.

Or then, he could be in the burrow right now, asleep and scared clutching to his scarf and praying for his mommy.
That night Tyson cried himself to sleep with the hopeful thought that Nuri escaped and was praying as he wept.
But what he didn't know that Nuri had leapt into the food claim of the bus, and was riding with him along a bunch of potatoes.

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Author Notes- Hey, Stabb here, and that was my newest story Chamber 23 blues. Hope you liked the first chapter, sorry for the cliffie but hey, there'll be another chap in a few days ;

What happens Next Stabb?

New people are introduced, are they friends are foes? Whats The Embassy? Why are all these Pokemon so hurt? Is that human being...kind? Where are tyson and Nuri? You'll all find out in chapter two of Chamber 23 Blues, Drafted.