"BLASTOISE, FINISH THIS! HYDRO-CANNON!"
The massive turtle roared, its body covered in cuts and bruises. A streak of blood ran from a large scar on the side of his face. The sound emanating from the beast was fierce, the sound of a freight train at full speed. It shook the battlefield and sent rocks and dust flying.
The audience in the stands cowered in their seats, unable to face the monster on the stadium floor.
Yet the one who should have been frightened most, the one whom the sound was directed to, stood calmly on his side of the arena. His dark hair was streaked with dirt and grime, and sweat ran down his thin face. His eyes, as red as the blood flowing from his opponent, were fixed on the battle, his concentration never wavering despite the fierce roar coming from the other end of the battle field. His clothes, a dark red vest and white shirt, with black pants and white shoes, were covered in dust. Yet he stood still, not even fazed by the opponent.
The Blastoise reared up, charging an orb of water in his maw that glowed with some godlike energy. With a final roar, it launched a huge jet of white water from his belly. The sheer size and power of the blast would have torn the entire stadium down, yet it was somehow controlled by the Blastoise, directed on one thing-his opponent, his adversary, his rival.
The said rival simply stood there, but something flashed in his dark red eyes. He gave a deft nod to his own pokemon, a massive dragon-like beast. In its eyes glinted something primeval and ancient. The fires of its reptilian ancestors burst from its crimson tail, a flame so hot it was blue. Something old had been awakened inside, the fierce spirit along with the cold intelligence that existed in side every lizard, snake, and crocodile in the world. It was what made them look so evil-the glint of a cold, hard, mind in the body of a beast from the depths of hell. With a roar matching the sound of the jet of water rushing toward the Charizard, it rose into the the air, beating its massive red wings, creating a miniature cyclone in the air as it ascended with surprising speed into the sky.
The Blastoise and his trainer were surprised. There was nothing they could do against the Charizard's subtle but efficient dodge, as Blastoise was already at the ends of his strength simply controlling the jet of water, which, without any opposition, shot below it's intended target and slammed into the opposite wall, causing an explosion with a shockwave so large it knocked everything back a few feet.
The earth was ripped into pieces by the explosion, and a cloud of smoke, dust, and steam covered the entire stadium. Those in the stands were blinded by the cloud, unable to see anything more than 2 inches in front of them.
The sheer power of the Hydro Cannon was awe inspiring. Had it hit, it surely would have been a fatal blow to the Charizard. But as the smoke and dust cleared, they saw the silhouette of the massive reptilian, rising a few feet above the shattered ground, hovering defiantly at its opponent.
The entire arena was silent. There was no sound, as if someone had pressed the mute button.
"Blast burn."
The command was so soft, so quiet, barely even a whisper, that no one would have heard had the explosion not shocked them into silence. As it was, the entire stadium heard it. Eyes widened, a little in awe, a little in fright, as the silent but fatal command was given. Across the field, the trainer's opponent, his dark brown hair in awry, covered in dirt and dust, gasped. There was nothing he could do. Blastoise needed to recharge after the hydro cannon. Resistance was futile. Everything was futile. It was over.
The Charizard's roar filled the stadium. Every hair stood up as the ground itself shook, the foundations of the arena threatening to come loose. With one beat of its massive wings, it rose higher into the air and spun, the flame at the end of its tail larger than ever. Slowly the flames covered the lizard, until it was so complete that it looked like the dragon was glowing, ancient reptilian heart awoken. The only part of the Charizard visible was its eyes, red like his trainer's, hard like the stars. The flames across its body continued to grow, until the entire beast was encompassed in a fiery orb, heat emanating from it, melting everything within ten feet. Only it's trainer was unharmed, as he was used to this show of raw, pure, unimaginable cosmic power from his pokemon.
The orb continued to grow, until all were looking at a wall of fire. Even Charizard, cocooned inside the ball, felt the heat as he strained his muscles, skin boiling.
And then it began to spin.
Faster and faster, until the air crackled with fire, as Charizard flipped forward, lounging the orb of fire, flames ripping away from his skin as they hurtled to his dumbstruck enemy below.
The Blastoise could do nothing.
The ball of fire was so loud it couldn't even be heard.
It slammed into the ground, 20 feet away from the turtle.
Chunks of the battlefield were hurtled away by the impact.
The orb of fire was now a wave, gathering the remaining pieces of the arena as it advanced forward.
The Blastoise looked on as a colossal wall of fire and stone came toward it.
It was over.
Across the world, in a dark windowless room, six men sat around a dark wooden table, watching the battle on the large screen in front of them. The screen kept flickering- the battle was too much to process.
The men looked on the battle without so much as a flicker of emotion. They weren't important men, nor were they powerful men. They looked as if they were cut from stone.
Non of them had money, power, or fame. Most were low-level government employees, their professions ranging from military intelligence to paperwork in the back offices of the Department of Health. They were unified only in their singular dream: a dream to make the world a better place.
Non of them had a family, not even a girlfriend. They were born in the darkness that comes with government offices of all kinds, raised in shadows and secrecy. It wouldn't have mattered if they were young or old. Their entire lives consisted on going from place to place, filling out paperwork and staring at tiny computer screens in a sea of cubicles. They were ordinary, normal people in a place were life moved in a flurry of activity. They never went home, always moving with the same mundane energy.
Simple put, they were men with things to do and places to be. Nothing more, nothing less.
They were also the men who were the head of the deadliest organization in the world.
Someone pushed a button and the screen flickered off, leaving the room in near darkness save for a low light on the ceiling.
"So we're agreed then," someone asked. It didn't matter who-they all sounded the same.
There were nods all around the table.
Nothing more was said as the speaker picked up a phone, the single item on the table.
"Target acquired." He spoke without dialing. The phone only connected to one number, and it was the only phone that did so. "Send him in."
The man put down the phone, then stood up and left the room. One by one, the rest of them followed. As the walked out the door, they forgot all about the meeting, the battle, the organization, as they had trained themselves to do. The group only existed in the one room, were a bunch of grey-faced ordinary men did the impossible. Once out the door, they were the same men they had been for their entire lives. Unknown, unnamed, unimagined men.
Men with things to do and places to be.