shadowmancreator
2:35 PM
well, I've been wanting to watch more, but I haven't been given the chance... could you please fill me in on the lore at the moment?
me
2:38 PM
Well, Gen 2 revolved around the story of Andrew, a boy on a quest to rebel against the forces of anarchy, free himself from the voices, and challenge Red. His ragtag team of rejects redeemed themselves one by one, and in the end, they stepped out of the shadow of their predecessors in a glorious battle with Red atop Mt. Silver
...
Many, many years passed.
The stories of Helix, Red, Bird Jesus, Brian, King Leer, and Andrew faded into legend.
shadowmancreator
2:40 PM
oh, i was there for the battle with red
I mean for gen 3
me
2:46 PM
OK
Ahem
Hoenn: Almost a century after the battle of Mt. Silver.
A young woman named A crouches in the back of a moving van.
She's hunched over, drawing something on the floor with a piece of chalk.
A circle.
Inside the circle she draws a D-pad. Buttons. Arrows. Strange text on the borders.
She stands in the middle of the circle and closes her eyes.
A tiny grin crosses her face.
She whispers a phrase. A phrase that will set in motion an event that will rock the Hoenn region.
shadowmancreator
2:46 PM
"anarchy"
me
2:46 PM
A phrase that will summon an evil long forgotten into the world again
"Anarchy"
shadowmancreator
2:47 PM
yup
me
2:56 PM
Suddenly her mind is filled with voices, whispers, screams, commands
She doubles over in pain, clutching her skull.
Her eyes open and the pupils dilate into slits, serpent-like.
She tentatively rises to her feet.
She takes a deep breath.
"It's mine," she murmurs breathlessly.
She extends her arms out to her side.
An aftershock runs through her body.
Suddenly, she hears her mother call her from inside the house.
"It's mine," she says again.
A slinks out of the van into the sunlight.
"I am anarchy."
"I am anarchy"
"No gods. No kings. No legacy. I am the master."
"I am...
"Anarchy"
The July heat bore down on the back of my neck as we packed the last box into the van and, with a sense of finality, I pulled the thin steel shutter down with a crash. I took a step back and marvelled at how quickly it had gotten done. Our entire apartment was systematically cleared out by my mother and I in just under thirty-six hours.
"Camillia". I turned and peeked over the top of the van at my mother.
"Did you remember your pill"?
"Aw, crap. Just a second, I'll take it before we leave," I replied, moving toward the staircase on the side of the building. I tried the door, but it was locked from the outside. Just my luck. I took a breath, then sprinted around to the front entrance and went in through the lobby. I immediately felt their eyes on me. Everyone in the lobby stopped what they were doing to glare at me in silence. I hurried into the roof access stairwell, out of their sight, and leaned against the wall, taking shallow breaths in an effort to calm down. When I got my heart rate under control, I trudged up the carpeted staircase to our flat. The door was hanging open, letting a bar of white light into the hallway. I stepped through and was almost knocked off my feet by how empty the room felt. It was as if no one had ever lived here. The carpet was whiter than I'd ever seen, and I could feel the outlines of furniture in the spaces they occupied for fifteen years. I looked down at my feet and tried not to cry.
Moving into the kitchen, I reached up into the medicine cabinet and took down a small translucent orange bottle with the letter A written on the label with a black marker. I opened my thermos of ice water, popped the cap on the pill bottle, and poured two cream-colored capsules onto the counter. Outside, a Swellow surfed the thermals over the town square, making loops and dives above any semblance of responsibility. No one hated that Swellow. I shook my head and swallowed the two pills in quick succession. There was no use thinking like that.
I decided to check through the house one more time, to save Mom the trouble. The kitchen, the bathroom, the balcony, Mom's room. Everything was clean and empty and lifeless. There was one thing left to take. A small shoebox of personal items: a GS ball, a cell phone, a box of chalk, and some photographs.I checked to make sure that everything was in when I saw something on the wall of my bedroom. Tears began to well up in my eyes. A tremor ran through my body. Written on my wall in bold red paint were the words "AND DON'T COME BACK". It hit me again exactly why we were moving. We were running from our past. From my past. Because of what I did, the town hated us. We had to outrun word of mouth and bury ourselves in the forest. I slammed my fist into the wall again and again and again.
"Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!"
I ran to the sink, turned it on, and splashed some water in my face. I caught my breath and slid down into the fetal position against the kitchen wall, waiting for the ringing in my ears to subside. I stayed like that for what felt like ten minutes when I heard my phone ringing inside the shoebox.
I sniffed, took in a sharp breath, and answered.
"Hello?"
"Hey. It's Joey. I'm out here, and your mom's waiting."
"Got it. I'll be right over."
"It was really nice knowing you, A."
"Hey, c'mon. It's not like I won't visit every now and then."
"...Look, we both know that that isn't going to be an option."
I glanced at the message on the wall.
"OK, Joey. Thank you. I'll be in touch."
I hung up the phone and tossed it dismissively into the shoebox. Then, I gathered up my composure and headed towards the side staircase.
Just like that, we were on the road. On the way out of town, we drove through the square and I'm pretty sure some people threw a rock and a couple of eggs at our van. It stressed me out, to say the least, but soon we were past the city limits. A feeling of liberation washed over me. My mind drifted back to Joey. His full name was Joseph Andrew Miller IV, as he'd told me time and time again. He always talked about mythology, specifically pertaining to the Kanto and Johto regions, and he apparently descended from a very important figure in Johto mythology. It usually went in one ear and out the other with me, but I had been hanging on to his words more and more as the move drew closer. He was my confidant. Even after the incident, he would invite me over to his house and let me vent all of my frustration and fears on him. I looked wistfully out the window, watching the green blur that had been the forest outside of my hometown. It was killing me. I longed to have been able to leave on better terms. I closed my eyes, and the memory resurfaced.
In my mind, the room was tinted in a dim red light, like a darkroom. The memory was a haze of blurred noises and emotions. I was speaking, but I couldn't hear myself. Then, the haze cleared into thirty seconds of visceral brilliance. I lunged at the boy in front of me, tackling him onto the tile floor. There was a knife in my hand. As long as it's here, I thought, I might as well…
My body moved before I could complete the thought, and before I knew it, I sank the knife into his body. I lifted it back up, then plunged it down again. And again. And again. And again. I regained control of my body after about the second time I stabbed him, but I kept going. Then it was over. I stood up. A tear leaked out of my eye and a twisted grin was plastered across my face.
"We're here." I awoke with a start and glanced out the window just in time to see a small sign that read "Welcome to Littleroot". The town was aptly named. Half of it was obscured by a huge thicket in the middle of town, and the road was barely paved. It was as out of the way as you could get. It would be perfect.