So, this is the AO3 exclusive story. Yeah, I decided to move it here, as well, for two reasons. One being that people wanted me to, and the other being that the rule of AO3 applied to this story. If it isn't porn, no one gives a fuck. Anyway, this story won't have too many modifications, essentially just being that any real animals mentioned, which there will be some, will be made in to Pokemon. If you don't like it, I apologize, but I prefer to have my stories be read by people. That, and you'll have to get over it. Trust me, I'm not breaking any rules. So, let's have some fun.

So, this story is actually an Archive exclusive, at this time. Depending on how it does on this site, I may make some minor modifications and upload it to FFnet, but that all depends. Anyway, as you read, this is technically an Original Work, but it is based off of two albums by the band Crown the Empire, so I have added that fandom, as well. So, without too many more interruptions, let's begin.

*Note: I do not own/ am not associated with Crown the Empire or any music made by them. All of those rights belong to Crown the Empire and their record label, Rise Records. So, enjoy the story and check out the band.

Call To Arms (Act I)

I could feel my young cheeks continue to dampen with my tears as I continued watching the masked and hooded figures abuse my parents, feeling helpless as I hid in my parent's bedroom, peering around the door. My ears were filled with my parent's cries of pain and the men's laughter, as my father fell from his knees to his stomach, where he joined my mother.

"Fucking pathetic." One of the men said. "I would have thought that supporters of that terrorist group would actually put up a fight, rather than just take the beating." He sent his foot flying into my father's stomach, eliciting a cough of blood from my fallen parent, as he continued, "But, I guess that most of their supporters are weak, anyway."

I heard groan coming from my father, a groan that sounded like it was attempting to become words.

"Sorry, what was that?" The other man mocked, leaning down to my father. "I didn't quite hear you?"

I heard a few more choking coughs from my father, followed by, "Fuck you."

The man stood back up and kicked my father in the face, snapping his head back, and causing multiple teeth to fly from his open mouth.

"Don't you dare fucking talk to me like that, you dirt!" The man yelled.

The other man rolled up his sleeve some, before looking at what appeared to be a watch on his wrist.

He grabbed his partners arm, saying, "Hey, let's hurry up and finish this. It's getting late."

He turned his beaked face to his partner, before agreeing, "Alright, fine." He reached into his pocket, saying, "I was getting bored with these two, anyway."

The man removed his hand from his pocket, revealing that he was gripping a switchblade. He flipped it open, the blade shining slightly in the light from the single bare bulb.

"Now then, let's teach you what happens to those who oppose the Scarecrow." He said, leaning down to my parents.

He lifted up my father's head, making him face him. My father took this chance to spit a mixture of blood and saliva at the beaked man.

As the man wiped the spit off with his sleeve, he laughed, saying, "Oh, you're going to pay for that."

He brought the blade of the knife up to my father's face, before plunging the blade into his eye, and twisting the blade. My father screamed in pain, and I had to fight the urge to throw up. The man ignored my father's screams, and pulled the knife from its fleshy sheath, before plunging it into his other eye, and repeating the process of twisting it. This time, though, he didn't stop until my father's screams ceased, and just lay there, his body now still. He dropped my father's head to the ground, before picking up my mother's. He appeared to examine her for a few moments, before dropping her head back down.

"Pretty sure that the bitch is already dead." He commented, rising and closing the knife, before pocketing it. "C'mon, let's go ahead and leave."

The other man nodded, and they started for the door, before one of the men stopped.

"Wait a minute." He said. "Didn't the neighbors say that these two have a little brat?"

The other man continued walking; only shrugging and saying, "I don't know. It doesn't matter, anyway. The kid will never last a week on the streets."

"Yeah, you're probably right." He agreed, before following his comrade out the door.

As the door slammed shut behind the duo, I couldn't stand to wait any longer. I fled the cover of the door and rushed to my fallen parents. I reached my father first, and sat down next to him, before lightly poking him.

"Daddy?" I said, my voice shaking terribly.

There was no response, other than the sounds of my own light whimpers.

"Daddy?" I repeated, poking him again, my voice becoming much more frantic.

I heard a raspy cough, followed by, "Matty?"

I looked up to see that my mother had her head leaned up, looking up at me.

"Mommy!" I said, joyfully.

I got up and ran to her, before sitting down next to her.

"Mommy!" I repeated, going to hug her.

She stopped me, saying, "Wait, son. Do not celebrate quite yet."

I moved back, saying, "Why?"

"Because, sweet child, I will not survive this." She replied. "But, that is why I must tell you what I must tell you. Are you listening?" I nodded, so she continued, "Son, go into our bedroom and open our closet. In there you will find a small box in the floor. Pick it up and bring it to me."

I complied, not bothering to question my mother's intentions. I rose and dashed into my parent's room and over to the closet. I flung the door open and quickly found the box. I retrieved it, before returning to my mother's side.

"Thank you, my son." She praised. "Always so loyal and helpful, even now, as I lay before you, my death imminent." Coughing suddenly racked her body, blood flying from her mouth and splattering on the floor, before calming down and saying, "Now, listen to me. I need you to open the box and take what is inside of it."

I complied and lifted the lid. Inside was nothing more than a necklace with a pendant on it. I examined the pendant and saw that it appeared to be a silver crown, with a silver cog surrounding it.

"Now, I want you to take that pendant and keep it on you always." My mother said. "Can you do that for me?" I nodded, and she said, "Good. Thank you for that. Now, hurry and leave this place. Get out of the house and survive. Can you do that for me?"

I nodded, and she nodded back, before her head dropped the floor roughly.

"Mommy?" I said, shaking her lightly. "Mommy?" I repeated, continuing to shake her, but to no avail.

I slowly got up, cradling the pendant in my hands. I took one last look at my lifeless parents, before dashing out of the house and into a nearby ally. I stared down at the pendant, the cog and crown. I sat down on a flattened cardboard box, before slipping the chain around my neck. I gazed down at the pendant one more time before slipping it under my shirt. I then curled up, my black ears drooping over my face, and just laid there, crying, until I fell asleep.