Prologue
Rifle fire cracked through the air, artillery boring holes into the mud. In the distance a flare flies into the sky, given the battlefield a red glow. A whistle pierces the airs, it's shrill shriek filling the ears of the soldiers.
In the skies above the mud and blood, biplanes shot through the air, machine guns launching bullets towards their foes. A majestic dance of death in the clouds.
A red triplane shoots out from behind a cloud and behind a group of enemy fighters. Right, left, right, left, the pilot danced the plane behind enemy fighters, downing one after another. The radio, a new technology, buzzed in his ears. "Manfred, we're approaching the Zeppelin, end the enemy fighters quickly," it crackled.
The pilot flicked a switch on his control panel, arming the air to air rockets. He squinted, lining up a shot, before letting the rockets loose.
And in the sea, the waves crashed the hull of the battle group of ships. The group of many classes aimed their cannons towards the horizon, another group of ships approached in the distance. Battleships, Destroyers, Cruisers, and a small collection of Naval Zeppelins approached an equally big armada.
The cannons roared to life, firing shells as wide as trees towards other ships. Anti-Air cannons repeatedly ripped the clouds, raining shrapnel onto the seas.
But the war was fought and won in the trenches, and behind every gunsight is a human being.
"Corporal Huot, what are our orders?" A soldier asks, warily glanceping above the trench line. He flinches back when a rifle round grazes his helmet, creating a spark that fizzles in the mud below.
The corporal uses his trench periscope to monitor enemy lines. "We've got to make a breakthrough, if we sit here we face the risk of being blown apart by mortars and artillery. Send a message to the rear guard, we have to make a breakthrough now," he ordered.
"Yes sir!" The soldier shouted, rushing to the communications outpost.
Corporal Huot continued his observation of enemy lines, wincing when a few bullets slammed into the dirt in front of the lense. When the soldier returns from communications, he brings a small slip of paper and hands it to the Corporal.
"Form assault on sector 12, artillery and close air support expected, we move on your whistle," he read. The soldiers around him listened intently, mud clinging to their uniforms as if they hadn't see a drop of fresh water in days. The corporal raised his whistle from his neck chain. With a nod towards his men, he turns to face the enemy. The hiss of the whistle pierces the air, and everyone climbed up the wooden ladders, clinging to the rungs with one hand, their rifle in the other.
A roaring sound erupts from behind them. Field guns and artillery cannons launch their shells with a mighty roar, sending shockwaves through the battlefield, but no soldier flinches. As the men charge through the mounds of barbed wire, mud, and wooden beams, machine guns from the opposing trenches make their presence known, a wall of bullets flew towards the mass of charging soldiers.
The men fell to the muddy ground, and the few lucky ones dove for cover behind dirt mounds, wooden planks, and the cold steel corpses of a panzer.
As if on queue, a collection of these metal beasts approach from behind the assault. Their treads crushing and cutting the barbed wire defending their position, and rolled forwards. A slow iron fist.
But the enemy wasn't going to sit behind their barbed wire and sandbags. With another whistle's shriek, the men clad in brown leaped from their trenches as well, setting their rifles loose on the assault. Men on both sides fired their weapons, forcing men to the ground. Some deaths were quick and painless, a bullet drilling into a skull or a heart, but for most, their death came slow.
When the two sides met in the center of the battlefield, the rifles lost their effectiveness, and soon man's most primitive tools came to light in the mud and blood.
The knife and the club. With his trench spade in hand, Corporal Huot charged at one of the enemy soldiers. The enemy charged back with his bayonet. With a swift, almost graceful move, the Corporal pushed the rifle's bayonet aside, missing his body by mere inches. With a swift movement, he forced the shovel into the back of the enemy. Blood spewed from the open wound, coating the shovel and the corporal's black uniform in red, warm liquid. After ripping the tool from his enemies shoulder, he turned around.
The corporal froze, machine guns tore into the soldiers around him, artillery and mortars drilling holes into the dirt around him.
Some say hell is filled with fire. The men fighting on this front add more to the story, hell is filled with mud. Homes were turned to rubble, fields charred from massive flames, towns flattened, and families torn apart.
Time stands still for the man, men, HIS men died around him, brutalized by the horrors of modern warfare. His comrades charged forwards, and for what? What was the purpose of this? Why must they break the line? What is there in victory? He didn't even flinch as artillery fire engulfed his surroundings. Every nerve felt as if they were on fire before silence fell upon the world.
When he came back around, Corporal Huot found himself on the group, covered in mud. The man forced himself up onto his knees, and to his left, was another soldier. An enemy soldier in brown, equally as torn and weary as himself. Both picking up their rifles and aimed at each other.
There was a period of silence before the gray clouds slowly parted, and the world beyond the war glimmered. The two soldiers lowered their rifles, and with a simultaneous sigh, they threw them into the mud between them.
Their friends may be dead, their clothes tattered, and their minds broken. The horrors of war will forever be buried deep into their minds. But, nothing can destroy one's humanity. No amount of gunshots, gas, or explosions can take that away from us.
The two soldiers turned away from each other, leaving their rifles in the mud puddle, and walked back to their command, away from the bloodshed and horror.
"That was 20 years ago, I was on the verge of being ineligible for the draft, but I got the letter 1 month before my birthday… your dad was only 14. If you ever get your hands on this recording Ross, know that you're a strong kid, you can go through anything, because you're a Huot. It's what's expected of us," the recording fizzled out, the speakers going silent.
Goodbye Grandpa. I'll continue your memory, even if my father forced himself to forget.
The young teenager stood up, shoving the tape into his pocket after retrieving it from the cassette player, I have to leave now. Dad will be home soon… he ran back up the stairs, leaving the basement's dust and cobwebs behind. Back on the main floor, he grabs a few things, like a necklace, and a small box of food and formula. After rushing up the stairs, Ross threw on a olive green greatcoat, buttoning the buttons as he rushed around. When he had finished, he fastened a green belt onto his waist. He finished his outfit by clipping a few utility pouches onto his belt.
"Alright, that's it. Time to head out into the world," he stated, pulling out a Pokeball, "I hope you're ready too."
The ball shook a little. "I guess you wanna spend some time outside huh?" He smiled, before opening the ball. With a flash of light, a small creature appeared.
"Vee!" It cried happily.
Ross knelt down and scratched Eevee's ear, "Hey girl, you ready to head out?"
The brown Pokémon smiled, "Eevee!"
"I thought so, let's get Natalie and get out of this place…"
Ross and Eevee went to Natalie's room.
The purple and pink wallpaper had worn a little, and the carpet needed a cleaning, but it mattered little to Ross and Eevee, they were going to leave soon anyway. The teenager looked over the edge of the crib in a corner, and smiled when he saw his baby sister, Natalie, sleeping soundly and cuddling a Cleffa plush. Ross brushed the back of his hand over her soft check, chuckling when she squirmed a little in her sleep at the tickling sensation. "Alright sweetie, time to wake up," he booped her little nose, and Natalie's brown eyes slowly opened. She looked up to her brother and smiled happily, raising up her arms to try and grab him.
Ross picked up his little sister, "You ready to go on an adventure Natalie? Wanna get out of this house and into the world!?" He exclaimed, raising Natalie above his head. The baby laughed and clapped her hands. "Alright, there's no time like the present!"
And thus, our story begins with a young man and his sister, but they are not our only friends in this story.
"Pikachu use thunderbolt!" Ash shouted. His partner, the mouse Pokémon Pikachu, leaped into the air, and with a shout of his name, he launches a yellow thunderbolt towards the opposing Pokémon, Vivillon. The scale Pokémon was surrounded by electrifying electricity. It fell down to the ground of the battlefield, sending up a small cloud of dust.
"Vivillon is unable to battle! Pikachu is the winner, therefore making the challenger, Ash Ketchum, the victor!" The referee announced.
The opponent, the gym leader Viola, approached Ash's end of the field after returning her fallen Pokémon. "Wonderful work Ash! Your teamwork with your Pokémon was snaptastic!" She exclaimed, holding the bug badge out in her palm.
"Thanks Viola! Pikachu, Fledgling, and I trained hard for our rematch. Looks like our training paid off!" Ash replied happily, accepting the badge, "Alright, we got our first badge in the Kalos region!"
"Pikachu!" The two partners struck a pose. Ash's friends, Alexa, Clemont and Bonnie approached from behind, along with a honey blonde girl, around the same age as Clemont. "Great job out there Ash, I must say, I'm impressed with how you countered everything that Viola threw at you," Clemont complimented.
"Yeah, Pikachu was super strong and super cute!" Bonnie agreed bubbly.
Ash smiled happily, along with Pikachu, who was enjoying the praise, "Thanks guys! I couldn't have done it without Alexa's help though, Noivern's gust really helped us counter Vivillon!"
"So you did help him Alexa… tsk tsk tsk, I keep telling you to stop helping my challengers," Viola jabbed jokingly.
The group laughed together, enjoying the moment with each other.
Along the way, our heroes learned new things about each other, going through new experiences, and beating new challenges.
"Eevee, use Double Kick!" Ross shouted. The evolution Pokémon charged forwards, it's hind paws glowing white. With a flip, she kicked the opposing Pokémon, a Pidgey, twice, sending it into a tree.
"Pokeball, Go!" Ross threw a normal red and white Pokeball towards the weakened flying type, encapsulating it in a red light before being sucked inside the ball. It shook three times, but Pidgey was caught without effort, "Alright! Way to go Eevee!" Ross congratulated his starter Pokémon.
"Eevee!"
Ross knelt down to grab the Pokeball. Our first catch… not bad for my third day, Ross placed the ball in his greatcoat's inner pockets, "Well, our next challenge awaits Eevee, return." His partner was returned in another beam of red light. The teenager looked over his shoulder to find Natalie fast asleep in her wicker baby carrier. I guess she's tired too.
000
So after my friend and partner Hello 12 gave me some advice on how to improve Our Fight (The Original) I realized that it deeply flawed and lacked many things, so heres my reboot, much of the original idea of Our Fight (Original) is still planned, but some stuff is toned down, while others are reworked a bit. Anyway, in a few days expect the first chapter to be released!
Chapter 1: Titles Break!
When Ash and his friends arrive at the Battle Chateau on Route 7, they're destined to meet some interesting indiviuals!