You could concider this a nuzlocke challenge if you really wanted to because, really, my Platinum nuzlocke is where this all began. It was supposed to be a comic, and then became a fanfic. And then it went from happy to depressing. ._. Erm. Yeah. Just to make sure you guys aren't all confused, this is game verse. See, it IS possible for me to write stuff other then Pokemon Special fanfics, because seriously, I've been plotting the poop out of my brain with all of those unwritten PokeSpe stories.
Well, I'm not exactly sure what else to say, so... Enjoy? ^^;
Lightning shatters the sky. Thunder blankets all other noise, dominating every sound in existence. Rain pounds down hard on the ground, sending splatters of mud airborne. Wind rakes across the ground, dragging mud and loose leaves with it. The sky is as dark as a black cat's fur. The land is as bleak as a desert. The sun and moon – symbols of hope for the broken town – have all but been swallowed by the promise of storms... and more agony.
The people were gathered together in the town square, those well enough to be outside lined up with heads bent. This was not the annual festival that so many looked forward to. This day was one out of many that would end in tragedy.
A little girl, no older then six or seven, reaches out to one of the two parallel rows of people, flailing wildly as she tries to break free from the grasp of the armed men that led her away. A teenage boy with dark, stormy blue hair reaches for the brunette, tears mingling with rain and streaming down his puffy face. But there was nothing he can do. Nothing anyone can do. Because, when it's guns against fists, gun always win.
I stand with my hands balled into fists. I've no need to hold back tears any longer. Years of pain and suffering have dried my eyes and replaced my sorrows with bitterness. There's nothing we can do when such an event occurs. Not a thing. Because it is our own people who do such terrible things to the young folk of our tiny village. Parents who turn against their own children in selfish attempts to make themselves wealthy. And it makes me hate them with every day that those children are missing.
Once, our home was not so dreadful. People laughed an sang, living with the Pokemon of the world in harmony. The government had very little, if no rule over the people of the world, as it seemed things were better off without them. Whenever organized crime sprung up, the people would gather and put the threat down instantly. It was a safe world, where sending off children as young as the age of ten was alright in the eyes of the rest of society. It seemed nothing in the world could go wrong.
At least, that was, until the Oberste party rose to power.
They came like a thief through the night, unnoticed and undetected. They won all of the elections, quickly spreading their power throughout the government. There was little they could do with this new political group rising in power – they had been set up to be weak to give the people freedom. An attack like that was not foreseen. Followers of the Oberste group grew swiftly in numbers and, not even half a year after that first person was sworn into office, they had complete control over the government. It was then that one person took complete control over the land.
Changes were made so fast, word reached the tiny village of Twinleaf not a second before they came into effect. All the regions of the world, Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, Orre... even the distant, peaceful regions where Pokemon battles were were divided into two simple groups: the province of Ilyis and the province of Nevita. Each were ruled by a certain underling, with less power then the ruler above all, but were allowed to make decisions at will. Though both provinces were to be equal in almost every aspect, it was painfully evident that the people of Ilyis were highly favored in the eyes of the cruel new government that had rose to power.
A handful of people from all of the regions, however, would not stand by as this happened to them. They took a stand, challenging the rulers of the tiny planet known simply as the Pokemon world. Their efforts were quickly shut down, however, and almost all were murdered, accused with the act of treason. However, a few were forced to move away, essentially banished from both Ilyis and Nevita. Many others, though not involved with the original attack against the Oberste joined them, leaving their homes and claiming some of the minor regions as their own. Though they started off using the regions original names, they decided to mock the rulers they'd turned against and created the province of Akiro. They could never escape the reaches of the Oberste, still, and branches of the government were soon sent there, as well. But, more out of fear of the cruel and merciless people who lived there, those branches were weak and only made sure general laws were upheld.
All individual rights were stripped, and the public's privacy was lost. The government had complete control over everything. But the worst was yet to come. Our one source of happiness, the creatures that had given our world it's name were stripped from us as well.
Pokemon battles are illegal, and those caught preforming the act are beaten in public or murdered on spot.
Maybe the Oberste are afraid that the training of Pokemon will lead to the overthrowing of the political party they have created. Or, maybe, they have felt the need to destroy all of the hopes and dreams that we people – of the Nevita and Akiro, especially – had come to enjoy. No matter, there is no question about it. The training of said creatures, mostly locked away and rare to see, is a dark art that must never be preformed.
The Ilyis outnumber the Nevita and outshine them in every aspect. They are closer the main branch of the government. They have almost all of the natural resources. The good farming land. Major areas of communication and transportation. They are generally wealthy and hardly a person goes a night without a full belly. The shadow of their people, however, live in poverty, struggling with starvation every step of the way. Jobs are hard to come back and even harder to keep, and they all have to fight for their meals. But this is not the worst part of it all.
All males above the age of thirty five are sent away, regardless of their province, to serve in the Ilyis army. Married couples usually don't see their spouses until one is brought in a body bag. Children are few in many families. Because money is tight and not many can get their hands on more then one thousand Poke' every year, any mother whose husband has been sent away or has passed away are given the option to sell their children away. These children are either forced to work as slaves, provide labor for the Ilyis, or are used as experiments in research in the province's capital. Though one might not think that any single mother in her right mind would sell away her children, many find it the best option. Those who are sold away pray they are sent to work as laborers instead of the other alternatives.
I, myself, having lived in the province of Nevita have grown used to this fact.
Lucas, the dark haired child who reached for his recently sold sister has taken his place back in line, bowing his head and clenching his fists. He mutters under his breath, but silences himself when the authorities pass. Because there is nothing he can do. Five times has he had to face this shocking revelation that his dining table is going to have one less person seated down. But he has no more siblings left to loose. And, the sad truth is, that can only mean one thing.
He's next.
We stand in silence.
My teeth grind against each other as I hold back my anger against the white uniformed men who are disappearing over the hillside as they carry away one more victim. Finally, once we can see them no longer, the crowd begins to shatter into peaces, melancholy figures moving through the streets like ghosts, wandering home in silence. My old, murky tennis shoes splash through the mud as I make a bee line toward where Lucas is standing. His face is drained of all color, and he's standing as still as a statue. I reach out to touch his shoulder, but he brushes my hand away as soon as we make contact.
"Lucas-"
I'm cut short, not by his own voice, but by the sound of someone else approaching. I'm prepared to see my mother or even his own, tensing as I prepare to lash out at the latter when a flash of blonde hair catches my eye. I relax as I recognize the third of our little trio.
"Sorry," Barry explains, out of breath. "Stupid crowd; I swear, I couldn't walk five steps without bumping into someone else." Neither Lucas nor I respond. Instead, we stare at the hasty child though hollow eyes, unsure of what there is to say. "Er... Sorry... About Suzanne... Lucas..." The confused teen stammers, referring to the seven-year-old who was carried away.
"Not your fault," he mutters in reply, though he meets neither one of our eyes.
"Anything I can do? I'm a great entertainer, after all!"
"Nah... I just need... Some time alone..."
"Oh, come on... You know you want to see me dance!" The curly haired blonde does a little dance, waving his fingers every which way and kicking out his legs. We don't laugh. When he straightens, however, his feet slip in the mud and he tumbles backwards. Though I let out a giggle, Lucas turns and begins to walk away without a word. "Hey!" Barry shouts, trying to stumble onto his legs. "I slip and fall, and this is how you thank me?"
"Drop it, Barry," I murmur, reaching out a helping hand to him and helping to pull him up when he takes it.
"Thanks, Dawn." Yes. My name is Dawn. Dawn Berlitz. I have lived in Twinleaf Town for more then seventeen years, and not one day has gone by when I haven't hated it with all of my heart. The heartache whenever a child – friend or not – is sent away. Having to look away when someone kneels on the ground, dieing of starvation or dehydration. All of the pain and suffering that comes with living in the province of Nevita. I've always wanted to leave. But where am I supposed to go? "Lucas... He must be hurting... His only sibling... The only one left for him... Gone..." The boy in the baggy clothes mutters, "I hate that woman. She doesn't even deserve to be called his mother..."
I look away. It's true. Any day now, she'll be selling the last of her children away. Because Suzanne, the youngest of their family, was so young, she didn't sell for much. A nineteen-year-old boy, young enough to be molded into something, but old enough to be of some use, would sell for quite a lot. Enough to keep his mother well fed for at least three months.
"He's next... isn't he?" The worlds are like rocks as they come out of my mouth, difficult to form and say and even more difficult to accept.
"... Yeah, I think he is."
There's nothing more to say. The rain is pounding harder, and both of us are soaked to the bone. Barry says his farewells, warning me that I'll catch a cold if I don't do the same and head home. We part ways, heading in separate directions.
Lucas was next.
When we were little, me being about five, and the two boys being roughly seven, we made a promise to each other. We swore that if one of us had to leave, whether it be they were sent away to work in the military, sold away, or even died, the others would follow. It sounded so simple at the time. But, if he really was the next to be sold away, how could Barry and I ever follow him down?
oXoXoXo
This wasn't happening.
The words echoed throughout my mind like a broken record, doomed to repeat one phrase over and over and over again. My hands formed fists, my knuckles turning white with the force of how I squeezed my fingers together as I ran down the streets of the town. Mud from the previous night's storm clung to the soles of my shoes, seeping through the holes caused by time and usage.
This wasn't happening.
Noon. No, latter then even that. I'd been running a slight fever this morning, so my mom had not aroused me from bed when the citizens of the town were called into town square for the second time in a ten hour span. I'd laid there in bed, sleeping like an Ursaring as the events outside transpired, painfully unaware of the horrors going on outside my own home.
This wasn't happening.
When I awoke, finally, and came downstairs, my mother made the mistake of telling me another child had been sold away that morning. Around the age eighteen. She claimed she did not recognize who it was, but I still assumed... Assumed the worse... My mother paid little attention to those of whom I socialized with, anyways. She wouldn't know what any of the teenagers my age looked like.
But that didn't stop me from guessing who that unfortunate soul was.
This wasn't happening.
Lucas's house came into site. The tiny, worn down building. A window was illuminated, as heavy clouds promising more rain made the bleak town seem darker then it really was. Someone was home. Presumably the stormy haired male's mother. But the question was, was said male there, too?
I raised a fist to knock on the poorly painted door.
This wasn't happening.
Dull eyes greeted me.
This wasn't happening.
"Is Lucas home?" I forced the words out of my mouth, biting my tongue in anticipation to a point in which I could taste blood.
This wasn't happening.
"... Yes. He has a fever, though, so I don't think you should come see him."
I almost melted right then and there. All the anticipation that he was gone, sent away washes away like waves on a beach. I wanted to throw my arms around the old, wrinkled woman's neck and thank her and whatever higher being might be up there for letting him stay. For not taking him away from me. I was speechless, though. What could I say to that?
"... Oh... Okay."
I turned tail and ran, having said this, leaving the old hag to slam the door in my wake. I practically skipped towards Barry's house, more happy then I'd been all week. Lucas was safe! At least, for a while. Our trio of doom could stay together just a little bit longer. I've never been one for singing, either, but I almost let out a note or two of song. The other boy was ill, so my hasty friend was the only one who would listen to me rant on and on about my worries that Lucas had left us.
I arrived at his house in a little over five minutes. Upon my arrival, I swung the door open without a knock and stepped onto the dirty old rug in front of the door. His mother was almost like a second mother to myself, and she didn't mind at all when I so rudely intruded. She'd always turn and smile if she was ever in the room. But today, she didn't. She didn't even look at me. Instead, her focus was on the half finished scarf she was knitting.
"Is Barry here?" I asked, bewildered.
And when she looked at me, I saw all the pain a thousand words could ever express written in those two green eyes of hers. And, with a single shake of her head, my entire world was shattered.
This wasn't happening.
But it was.
I might have had Lucas for a little longer. But Barry wasn't so fortunate.
Arg, that ending was so rushed it's not even good... XP Sorry!
Erm, well, Ilyis, Akiro, and Nevita were words that came from the Dark Elf name generator from Seventh Sanctum... Gosh, I love that generator. And Oberste is the Germand word for supreme. Just thought you guys might all want to know that. Thank you so much for reading~! Reviews are greatly appretiated~! ^^