Hey! Welcome to the first real fanfiction I ever wrote!

I started this back in 2011 and finished it in June 2013. I decided today that I'm going to put it up on here. It's basically a massive crossover of me and my friends fighting zombies along with dragons and other things. I listed it as an HTTYD/Pokemon crossover because those are the two franchises I borrow the most from. The storyline, however, is false.

I've changed some names of people and towns, by the way. Just saying.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the copyrighted material presented in this story.

Now, onto the Prologue.

Prologue

Chicago, Illinois

It was six o'clock in the morning. The sun had just risen, the city was quiet, and Ben was speeding through the ruined streets in his red 2009 Dodge Viper. In one hand he gripped the steering wheel, his fingers tapping to the beat of a song by the punk-rock band Still We're Forgotten, his favorite band. In the other hand he held an Uzi.

Ben was an eighteen-year-old of average height and build. He had short, curly brown hair, and brownish eyes. He wore a dark grey sweatshirt, blue jeans, and glasses.

He spotted a zombie up ahead. He waited until it got closer, than in one swift movement, without even slowing down, he pointed the gun out the window at the zombie and fired. The three bullets fired from the gun hit the zombie right between the eyes. It fell to the ground, and the wall behind it was splattered with blood.

He kept driving.

In the world after the zombie infestation, he was one of the few survivors who was still living well. Sure, he had some trauma, and missed his friends and family every day. But there was nothing that could be done about that, and he got his revenge, many times over, every single day.

Killing zombies was his job. The zombies had to be put down. One way or the other, the job had to be done. They weren't people anymore; they weren't even animals, and he was going to kill them. He saw no harm in having some fun with it.

These days, he was a wanderer. He went where he felt like going, and did what he felt like doing. Right now, he was heading west. He wasn't sure why he wanted to go west, he just knew he did.

During his spare time, he ran a traveling radio station, EOD Radio, from his car. Every few hours, he would spend a half an hour or so talking, and the rest of the time he would spend playing his music. He thought of it as his own Galaxy News Radio.

He saw another group of zombies up ahead. Coincidentally, the song on his radio had changed to "Undead" by Hollywood Undead. He slowed down a bit and gunned the zombies down in a rain of bullets and blood.

Five zombies.

Five rounds.

After a few more minutes of driving and shooting, the song changed again. This time it was another Still We're Forgotten song. It was only moments after that Ben saw him.

At first he thought it was just another zombie, and he was holding up his Uzi when he saw something else. The man's fist was in the air, and the thumb was sticking out.

As far as he knew, zombies didn't hitchhike. He put his gun down and eased his foot onto the brake.

By the time the car came to a complete stop, he knew the man wasn't a zombie. Zombies could barely walk; they moved sluggishly and aimlessly. This man walked straight, and with purpose.

When the car was completely still, and the man was walking up to the window, he realized something else.

"No fucking way," he said, incredulous.

Standing before him, dirty and thin from months on the road, but very much alive, was Trent, lead singer of Still We're Forgotten. Ben wasn't sure what his last name was. Come to think of it, he didn't think anyone did.

He was of about the same stature as Ben, except a little taller. He was a thin African American man with brown eyes, medium length black hair, and a mostly clean-shaven face. He was wearing a black sweatshirt and a pair of blue jeans, and his arms were lined with tattoos.

"Hey," said Trent. "Mind if I hitch a ride? I need to get somewhere."

"Not at all," said Ben. "Get in."

Trent jumped over the door and into the passenger's seat, placing the backpack he was wearing on his lap. "You're Trent, aren't you?" asked Ben.

"Yep," he said. "That'd be me."

"Dude, I pretty much worship your music."

"I can see that," he said, gesturing at the radio. His music was still playing.

"Where are you heading?" asked Ben. "I'll drive you wherever."

"Well, right now I'm heading for a house on the other end of the city," said Trent. "After that, who knows?"

"What house?" asked Ben.

Trent pulled out a map. "I'll guide you there. Keep going straight for now."

Ben drove. "So, where's the rest of the band?"

Trent looked out the window, apparently contemplating his response. "Dead," he replied after a few moments. "Or worse."

"Shit…" said Ben.

"Yeah," said Trent, obviously not wanting to talk about it.

After another minute of nothing but music, Trent glanced at his map and instructed, "Turn right at this intersection up ahead."

Ben turned right. "So what exactly is in this house? Is it your house?" he asked, in quick succession. "You lived here, right?"

Trent thought for a moment, and then replied, "Nah. I've already been to my house. There's something important in this one."

"What?"

"Well," Trent began. "Still We're Forgotten was always about doing something about the problems in our world, right?"

"Yeah…?"

"Well I'd say these zombies are a big problem."

"So you're trying to do something about it?"

"Yeah. I think I may be on the verge of finding a way to wipe them out completely."

"Is that what's in this house?"

Trent was silent for a moment. Then, he said, "I don't know. But if the answer to this problem isn't here, then at least another clue is."

They kept quiet for a few minutes. During this time, the playlist Ben had set up ended, leaving them in silence. Trent kept guiding him. When they were deep in the city, Trent asked, "You don't happen to have anything to drink, do you?"

"I've got some beer in the back."

"That sounds alright."

Ben pulled the car over and went to get the beer out of the trunk, taking the Uzi with him. He made sure to not take his finger off of the trigger. When he returned with it, Trent held his hand out, and Ben passed him one.

"You know," Trent said while opening the beer, "It's nice to see someone who doesn't want to eat me for a change."

"Same here. Especially someone I know."

"I wish I could say the same thing," Trent chuckled. "Which reminds me… I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Ben," he replied.

"Nice to meet you, Ben."

"Same here. More than nice to meet you."

Trent laughed. "Glad to know I still have fans. Say… How much of my music do you have anyway?"

A half hour and a bit more than half of a Still We're Forgotten albumlater, they arrived at Trent's destination.

"Thanks for the ride, Ben," Trent said as he got out of the car.

"Hey," called Ben as Trent started to walk away. "I'll keep a lookout for you, okay?"

Trent grinned. "Thanks. Oh and by the way… Your car is awesome."

Ben spent the next hour or so watching the house and shooting any zombie that stepped in his range. When Trent finally came back out, he seemed excited about something.

"Drive," he said as soon as he got in the car.

Ben drove. "You seem happy. What's up?"

"I think I found it. The key to everything. I know where it is."

"What?"

"The thing that will put an end to this once and for all. It's all here," he pulled a flash drive out of his pocket. "In this."

"Okay… I'm not following. Start at the beginning."

"I always knew this country had skeletons in its closet… But you'd never believe exactly how many. And one of them proved to be the death of not only America, but the entire world. They had these… experiments they were doing in labs hidden all around this country. And I just found where the center of the entire operation might be. If we can find it… We may be able to wipe out all of the zombies."

"Okay," replied Ben. "I'll take you wherever you need to go. Just so long as you explain to me what the hell it is you're talking about."

"I'll tell you everything as we go," said Trent. "But we need to get to New Hampshire. That's where it is. That's where I need to be."

"New Hampshire it is, then," said Ben. "Looks like I'm going home."

He watched as the whole scene unfolded.

He watched as Ben met Trent and drove him across Chicago.

He heard their entire conversation.

And now the scene was changing. Faces flashed in front of him. Faces he once knew. Faces of people he had begun to assume dead.

Ben. Sam. Joey. Andrew. Alex. Jean. All of them.

Then the scene changed again. He was in a pitch black room. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel something restraining him.

He heard footsteps behind him.

"Who's there?" he tried to say, but nothing came out.

A light came on. It blinded him; he couldn't see anything, except for a pit in front of him. Something was in it. At first he couldn't tell what, but as his eyes got used to the glare, he realized with horror what it was.

The pit was full of dead bodies.

The bodies were bloody and mangled beyond recognition, but despite that, he knew exactly who they were.

He tried to scream, but he couldn't make a sound. He tried to run, but he couldn't move. Terror coursed through his veins. He felt like he was going to vomit.

And then footsteps, behind him.

They moved closer.

And suddenly, they stopped.

The last thing he felt was hot breath on the back of his neck, and cold, sharp steel pressed against his throat.

He screamed, and was jolted awake. He felt his neck, and looked back.

There was nothing there but the wall.

He breathed heavily, and a feeling of relief swept through him as he realized it had only been a dream.

Or had it?

Above him, a pair of eyes was fixed on him, filled with concern.

"It's okay," he said to their owner. "It was only a dream."

But he knew in his heart that this wasn't true. He didn't want to think of what the last part meant, but he knew the rest. His friends were still alive.

Ben was going home. And it was time he went home too.

So, I hope you guys liked it! I'll try to have the next chapter up next Sunday! Feel free to leave some feedback, just be nice.