Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, so don't come suing me or anything.

Prologue

Saffron City, 1996

My father read me a bedtime story for the last time. But none of us knew that.

It was the good ol' classic, 'The Legend of Ho-Oh'. Where Ho-Oh, a mythological Pokemon, gave back life to three Eeveelutions, Jolteon, Flareon and Vaporeon, that burnt to death in a fire.

I loved that story, as it symbolized life after death, and that there was always hope. In fact, I loved it so much that I asked my father, and occasionally my mother, when they came back from their labs, to read it to me everynight. And they always did.

"And the Pokemon, newly rejuvenated with life, seeked to give back the great debt they owed to their saviour, with their newfound powers, and thus, decided to help others just as their saviour helped them. The End." My father closed the leather book. "Okay, sleep well, son."

Then he blew me a goodnight kiss, ruffled my hair lovingly, and then clumped out of the room, closing the door shut.

And I smiled, as I slowly drifted off to sleep, satisfied. If only I knew that that would be the last time I would smile...

I was abruptly woken up by a loud bellow. Then there was an ear-piercing scream.

I froze, my fear increasing.

"No, please! We have a son to feed!" That was my mother, her voice quavering.

There was a gruff voice. One that was not my father's. "Lady, shut your trap."

"I beg you! Don't kill us! We are innocent of any crimes whatsoever!" My mother cried.

I trembled in fear, and gripped my bedsheets over my head.

"Lady, I've warned you to shut your trap." The gruff voice replied. "Absol, Psycho Cut."

"Mom! Dad!" I screamed back, fearful of what happened.

Now there were heavy footsteps coming down the door, as if stating, "Who gives a hoot about stealth?" Then there was the click of the front door, which was accompanied by the sound of a bird Pokemon crowing as it comes out of it's Pokeball, ready to fly.

Then silence.

A minute or two passed.

All was quiet. Except for the sound of my heavily beating heart.

Perhaps it was just a bad dream? I hoped so.

After some time, I gathered enough courage to climb out of bed, and hurried across to where my parent's room was.

The door was open, and there was a small trail of red liquid from the door. Since the room was shrouded in darkness, I fumbled around inside for the electric switch, and pressed it on when I found it.

I wished I hadn't. I wished I never seen it.

It was a terrible sight. My mother was lying on the floor beside the bed, with a huge horizontal gash along her neck. Her satin dress was sodden with a dark-crimson stain.

Then there was my father. He was right beside my mother, his shoulders were leaking with blood, and was twitching and shaking for a moment, before he fell silent.

I zoomed out. There was blood all over the room. Splattering everywhere. The walls, the pillows, the bedsheets, the desk. You name it, there's blood there.

I ran forward, crying out, "Daddy! Mommy!"

None of them responded in anyway.

Then I shook the two in desperation. "Daddy! Mommy! Wake up!"

No response.

"Mommy! Daddy! Wake up!"

Still no movement.

"Mommy...Daddy..."