Unforeseen - Frostbitten

Prologue

It's been about ten years since the legendary Pokémon, Yveltal, attempted to destroy all life on Earth. And it's been about ten years since an unnamed person has stopped Yveltal from doing such.

No one could tell who this man was, nor why Yveltal had suddenly decided to try and kill off life.

But what was known was that the man did not stop Yveltal with a Pokémon—but instead, what can be classed in as a sword.

Since then, things have been about . . . normal. The only difference is that people have been much more untrustworthy with Pokémon. Quickly, large businesses capitalized on the large interest in personal defense weapons, and it went on from there.

Overnight, a business-wide revolution occurred and left even the most poor of people with a means of self-defense—from both Pokémon and People.

Nowadays, it would be uncommon to find someone without some weapon fastened to their side. Where I live, most weapons were nothing more than ornaments, since nothing much happened around my area.

Alto Mare, I'd call it. Yeah, I lived there. For the richer of people—though I guess I was an exception from that rule.

It was a fairly laid-back place. Lots of peaceful Pokémon, lots of events, and lots of visitors.

But as I said, it was peaceful. It wasn't too long ago that it changed—earlier in this day, in fact.

And that all started from another leisurely walk around. . . .

It's been a very odd week for not just myself, by my town in general.

Not that it's all that incredibly bad, but these "Pokémon Activist" dudes have been camping around here for a while. Pretty sure their name is Team Plasma. They keep talking about "liberating all Pokémon" and stuff like that—which doesn't really effect me, since I don't own any.

But it's still kind of worrying. Based on what I can remember of them, they're not exactly the best of people. Haven't talked to any yet, though, so I can't say.

I was sitting at a table from the local shop I usually go to, sipping down on the same flavor of smoothie I'd always get. The banana and strawberry was a bit hard to get down, this time. Would figure since the couple people inside there were rushing pretty quickly.

And the reason I was mentioning that stuff about Team Plasma was because my eyes were distracted by a group of them marching down the road—six of them together.

Of course, they weren't directly on the road—in Alto Mare, our roads were just water. "Canal City" is what you could call it, since the only two ways of transportation were by foot and by boat. As you could imagine, taxis made a lot of money.

My drink had since-then been finished, and I lazily left it on the glass table, before standing up and walking from the store. The sky had been oddly dark, for some reason. Like, the same way it would when a terrible storm was about to come. But it wasn't raining—leaving the entire town under a large shadow.

The only effect it had was on my mood—making me feel tempered, at best. I'd call it angry, if that's what's prefered.

So I began walking down the sides of an otherwise luxurious ocean town. The scenery was still pleasant, with tan-bricked buildings reaching two-stories high—all the way to the small structures that either served as shops, museums, or houses of "interesting design." To me, they looked like wastes of money, really.

But the more I walked, the more I noticed something. I was the only person outside at the moment.

The only people aside from myself were those Team Plasma dudes. Looked like I seriously missed something important.

Just as I stopped to take a look around, I heard someone behind me.

"What are you doing out right now?" a male voice asked.

I turned around, finding a man in what looked like standard Team Plasma gear. It was this black outfit that fit tightly to his body, topped off with a beret of dark gray and black.

". . . Pardon?" I asked in a mumble, frowning at this guy.

"Have you not heard of the imposed martial law on Alto Mare?" he questioned, pressing in his loud tone.

"Excuse me?"

"Obviously not, then," he muttered, staring at me. Looking into his green eyes, it was quite visible that he was frustrated—possibly with me. But then again, I wasn't being all that friendly to him looks-wise.

"Yesterday, Team Plasma imposed martial law onto this town—" he gripped the handle of the sword he kept at his side "—and we've made many examples of people who didn't listen."

"Is that a threat?" I prodded, glaring samely.

His eyes rolled, before he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Slowly, and smoothly, his free hand would bring out a long, brilliant blade that even shone in the dark lighting that surrounded us.

"I'll make this quick on you—as I'm sure our leaders won't mind adding another person to the tally," he told, slowly raising his weapon.

Pissed off, I quickly brought out my sword and swung it at his, effectively severing it in half with the sound of a clang. But before he could even react in surprise, I grabbed his suit by the collar, before throwing him off the sidewalk and into the water street by our side.

I turned around and began walking again, sheathing my blade back to where it belonged. Some people never get the memo to not bother with someone who's not in a good mood.