Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or the movie Vantage Point - which was my inspiration for this story. If I did then, Misty would not have left.
Prologue
Present - 11:45pm-12:02am
Three people stood briefly at the entrance of a straight narrow hallway. Behind them was the door that led to the outdoors, but not to freedom. Freedom had been far out of reach for a long time. Yet the small, cramped hallway did not reflect that. For despite being at building constructed off the edge of the prison, the hallway was reminiscent of an empty hospital with whitewashes walls, cement flooring, and bright lights that illuminated every aspect of the area. If the trio deluded themselves enough to ignore the current circumstances that led them to standing at the beginning of this confining hallway, they might think they were simply visiting a doctor after hours. However, such delusions would only last for as long as the short hallway went.
For at the end of the hallway was no patient room with a kind, smiling doctor supported by tenderhearted nurses willing to help fix any ailment within their ability. No, instead the woman in the center of the trio would face something much different. Sure, there would be several people there besides the two men how escorting her down the hall, but none of them would be smiling. No, they would all have sobering expressions quite similar to the two men on either side of her, whose grim features were accentuated by the light, as they began the entirely too short walk towards the door at the end of the hall.
In comparison, the woman's face was also downcast, but it did not carry the same grim purpose. Instead it carried an expression of sorrow and acceptance.
The woman looked at the two men's faces as they walked slowly and purposefully. Even in the bright light she could not see their eyes, which were well hidden by blue caps they both wore that matched their nondescript blue uniforms.
They reached the end of the hallway to face a blue door with a small thick glass frame at eye level. The glass was thick enough so that what lay beyond the door was concealed, but this did not stop the glass from reflecting a brief flash of fear on the woman's blue-green eyes. The man on the right moved from the woman's side to open the ominous door.
As was expected, what lay beyond the door was neither cheery nor hospitable. Ironically, the room still looked like a clinic, with a stretcher, medical equipment on the side, soft green walls, and the same almost blindingly bright lights. What made the room depressing, even scary were the smaller, infinitely more consequential details. First, the stretcher included thick leather straps meant for keeping a person within their strong grip. Second, the equipment at the side of the stretcher all seemed to indicate monitoring rather than healing. Thirdly, one of the walls off to the side housed a secure looking metal door. The rest of the wall was made of thick glass.
Beyond it, the woman could see several people on the other side. Some were sitting silently in their seats with somber expressions while holding hands in what seemed like a comforting gesture. One middle aged, motherly looking woman was hastily writing on a scrap piece of paper while the older man wearing a lab coat next to her seemed to be trying to comfort her with one hand on his arm. One woman to their right was speaking in front of a camera with several crewmen on her side. On the other side of the room a few others were conversing in a small circle. Participants included a man dressed in a doctor's apparel, another older man dressed in black garb, and several other professional looking persons. From their expressions on their faces the topic was serious.
No one at first noticed the trio had entered. The older, taller man with a short curly mustache that looked slightly skewed - who had just opened the door - moved over to the stretcher. He bent down and seemed to be making sure the daunting leather straps were secure. Meanwhile, the shorter, younger man with dark, unkempt hair held the fiery haired woman's arm almost tenderly and brought her to face the glass wall. At this all of the occupants on the other side stopped their precious engagements and looked at her. The grim atmosphere intensified.
The woman noticed each member in the other room's subtle reactions. The group sitting holding hands expressed a mixture of horror, dislike, and impending justice - a sight that did not seem unfamiliar to the young woman. The man and woman sitting next to each other stood. The man tried to look impassive, but his eyes emanated deep sorrow. She, on the other hand, was clearly distressed while folding the paper in half and showing it to the woman. At first the redhead seemed confused by the note, then nodded and smiled. The motherly woman could not hear but was sure the young woman spoke, but those who spoke with her afterwards knew she was convinced those words were a simple, "thank you." The woman and her camera crew seemed excited, focusing the camera lens from the woman who continued speaking - as if providing commentary - to the redhead. Most of the group who had been conversing in the circle stopped; most of their faces authoritative. However, one of the professionally dressed individuals suddenly increased the volume of his voice so it could be heard on the other side in the brightly lit room on the other side.
"I don't care what the prosecution says! I don't care what evidence is stacked against her! I don't care what the jury's verdict was either! I want you all to know here and now that I know she is innocent. If you go through with this then innocent blood is on your hands, because justice is not being served according to the law!"
For a brief moment no one spoke. A small, sad smile graced the cerulean eyed woman's lips. Then the man in black garb spoke briefly, in a much softer tone. In reaction to his words the doctor entered the other room and stood by the sinister looking stretcher. Without her noticing, the taller man had come back from checking it and now stood by her side, oddly looking slight relieved.
Just like at the beginning of that narrow, brightly lit hallway the two men escorted her to the stretcher and strapped her in. The grim, almost heart sickening mood spiked with every silent, purposeful action. When they finished the stepped back, took of their hats and watched as the doctor asked her if she had anything to say before he proceeded. The woman looked thoughtful for a moment then shook her head. With a somber nod the doctor stuck a previously prepared needle into her arm. Silence reined, except for the motherly woman's quiet sobs. Minutes seemed like hours. All the expressions on each person's face, each underlying emotion from the beginning of the trio's walk down the hall till now, melded into one sorrowful symphony until it peaked with an air of impending doom and suspense suddenly the monitor off to the side of the stretcher flat-lined. The doctor pressed his fingers to the woman's throat then spoke, confirming everyone's unspoken conclusion.
"Thus ends the life of Misty Williams of Cerulean City."
Silence reigned for a moment; it seemed as if the symphony would start again with a gloomier, mournful tune. Instead a terrifying roar was heard as the deceptively hospitable room was suddenly consumed in explosive flames. The onlookers on the other side of the glass were blown back. Smoke and fallen glass consumed everyone's view, and everything went black.
This story has a happy ending a promise! Please review. It really encourages me to update faster. Also, I am new at writing and am trying to do my best. That being said, I know I still make mistakes, so please send constructive criticism - not flames! Thank you. :)