A/N: Just before you give this a read, keep in mind that it isn't the most coherent piece, and there are mistakes all over it. I decided it was time to kill off my central Pokémon character, Tommeh, in order to bring about the next generation. If you aren't familiar with him, you mightn't find it as tragic. 3
Also keep in mind that I've been using the traditional Japanese terms for the Pokémon!
At a first glance, Chance is nothing particularly unique; he was the average height, the average build, the average size - hell, even his grades were average. His family life was the usual stereotype: his parents divorced when he was only one year of age, he has an older sister, and a younger brother. But his history has unusual turns, his present isn't exactly a straight path, and his future has always been clouded, surprise after surprise taking him in.
He grew up in the Hiun City of Isshu, a region caught in the torment and strife of internal war and conflict. The forces of 'Black' and 'White' contested regularly, and frequently stole the lives of the civilians unfortunate enough to get caught up in the hullabaloo. Both sides fought for domination, and neither usually had much advantage over the other; by far, the war was a frivolous attempt at seizing power, the likes of which no region had ever experienced - the closest example would have been the wars between Magma and Aqua in Hoenn, when there too was more than one syndicate duking it out.
But this was a tragic and violent assortment of events, which came to a stand-still upon the child's eighth birthday. It was on this date that Chance came across a truly scarring sight; that day had started like many others: his mother was cooped up on the couch, watching the News with silent tears streaking her pink cheeks, as more and more of her friends and family's names appeared on the recently deceased forecasts; thousands had been mutilated in the barbaric war. Chance stalked in the doorway for a moment, before he realised that this just wasn't the time to ask if he'd gotten any presents.
The child donned his grey coat and checked his reflection before heading out the front door as silently as he could; his blond hair was tousled slightly by the breezy winds. The sky was not clear, overcast with ash grey, occasionally flanked by darker storm clouds threatening rain and lightning. Their house was the same as all the others; Chance lived in a suburban area in the Far East areas of Hiun - the tall skyscrapers were nowhere close, but impossible to escape.
But the child began walking away from the city, seeking solace in the quiet of nature; Hiun had forests just beyond the city's perimeter, so it was always easy to escape the noisy rumble of lorries, cars and cargo being transported into the city. It only took twenty minutes for the child to leave the industrious footpaths and find his feet more happily bending grass stalks as other foresty things crunched beneath them. Many Mamepato pigeons flanked the trees, their metallic grey feathers littering the forest floor at entirely irregular intervals. Some of the birds glanced at Chance as he passed, but many of the wild Pokémon were taught to fear humans from hatching; the child experienced little trouble on his journey.
But a voice carried itself across the winds; it seemed hostile, unreasoning. Chance heard a crash up ahead; he felt the very earth vibrate with the force of the impact. Several of the Pigeon Pokémon squawked and fled the area in surprise and shock, assuming that the young boy had caused the trouble. He stood frozen on the spot, fear latched upon his premature face. He could still hear it, the angry voices, growing louder, the vibrating earth only becoming stronger and stronger.
After a moment, there was silence; Chance took his opportunity and edged closer, knowing full well that there was no way to reach his intended destination without crossing a clearing up ahead, where the sound seemed only the loudest.
"You need to stop this, it's ridiculous!" shouted the voice of a man; Chance only barely recognised it as the one from before - it sounded pained now, but fury leeched from it. "You don't know what you're doing, neither of you can take over Isshu, no one will accept it! You can't rule subjects who hate you, and trust me, the majority despise you both!"
The Pokéless child edged closer to the clearing, unable to see a single thing beyond the tall bushes. He glanced towards the surrounding trees and, encouraging his usual snap-decision making, climbed it easier than even a Hihidaruma could; the red baboon Pokémon itself was, of course, native to the Isshu region, but did not infest any areas near Hiun. It preferred the warmer climates of the Desert. Scrambling for a vantage point, Chance came across perhaps the most bizarre thing he'd ever see.
A man with shaggy brown hair, who couldn't be more than twenty years old, stood on the left side of the clearing; a man and a woman stood upon the other, one garbed entirely in white, the other garbed entirely in black; the woman had unusual, entirely green hair which relished her dark complexion; the man's was blond, and as spiked as spiked could get. Both were something around thirty. A Gochiruzeru, the celestial Psychic Pokémon, fronted the alabaster woman, and a Wooguru valiantly defended the darkly garbed male. The protesting figure was surrounded in emptiness; no Pokémon defended his side, and regarding the tattered earth surrounding his feet, he'd had to dodge a few attacks himself.
"Yours words are true," stated the woman, her pretty face without expression. "There is no way we can rule as separate entities. What you have intruded on today, or should I say the meeting you tracked down today, is the forming of an alliance."
It was beyond obvious that this not only shocked the russet man, but horrified him in tune. If Black and White joined forces then Isshu had no hope, and it would mean that the other regions would be in grave danger too. The alliance was a ticking time bomb, and it seemed to be exploding right in his face.
He had to report back to Blackthorn immediately; this was news that could not go unknown for longer than a day. He took a step back, grinding his teeth in frustration. He knew escape without conflict was entirely impossible; the Psychic Lolita Pokémon had created transparent telekinetic barriers around the clearing: no one could get in, no one could get out. Chance followed with worried emerald eyes, perched upon a branch of what could have been the tallest tree of all.
"Escape is impossible," the darker male uttered, his voice as gravely as it got. It struck fear itself into Chance; his spine was lost in a cascade of shivers; it seemed so very unnatural. "You shall not escape us. We know who you are, and we know how very dangerous you could become. That is why, right here and now, you will draw your last breath and become the last murder of Black and White as individual organisations. No, don't look at me like that, you should be honoured; it is your death that seals peace, Tommeh."
The younger man inhaled slowly; he was afraid now, it was clear as day. They had known everything, his identity and his objective. They had planned for any occurrence, and planning was Tommeh's weakness.
But he grinned a cocky grin, withdrew not only one Pokéball, but six. "I will not make things easy for you," was all he said, before his body was enveloped in a triangulation of marble light. He was instantly flanked by his most powerful Pokémon: Typhlosion roared angrily, flames billowing across his coarse, fire retardant flesh; Noctowl screeched, his mahogany wings wide, exposing the downcast arrowhead pattern gorgeously hewn to his proud chest; Gardevoir billowed a chilling cry, her large, intelligent eyes locked upon the celestial being's - they would battle personally, two female Psychic types contending it out only to prove which was the better species; Flygon chimed, his desert's song hurriedly haunting all those who heard it; Shiftry bristled his leafy fans, snapping his guttural forestial cries with haste; Linoone chattered, standing tall and proud with surprisingly piercing blue optics.
Chance watched as the one battled two, and could not help but be terrified and adore the sight at once; it was a masterpiece of colour breaking out before him, and at his age, appreciating the depth of hurt and pain displayed was a near-impossible task. Noctowl and Wooguru clashed in the skies, bird preying bird with only one victim in sight; Gardevoir and Gochiruzeru clashed, with lightning strikes, shadowy orbs and telekinetic blasts smashing against one another in near-perfect timing. To accompany the evil syndacite leaders' Pokémon came eight more creatures, none of which, interestingly, hailed from Isshu: a Charizard and Blaziken suddenly faced Typhlosion, Crobat and Arbok faced Shiftry, Salamence and Shelgon battled Flygon and Furret and Machamp faced Linoone. Their reach clearly extended the limitations of their native region, with such a rich variety.
Chance knew it was impossible, but still, he willed the single man to victory so badly that it clutched at his chest. The battle lasted minutes, but it could have been hours; Typhlosion destroyed Blaziken quickly with Aerial Ace, but Charizard's aerial antics kept Typhlosion's dangerous claws at bay; Noctowl was exhausted and perched upon a friendly branch, instead firing its own Psybeam at the opponent with lethal accuracy; Flygon's Dragon Pulse had weakened his dragonic enemies Salamence and Shelgon, but their Dragon Claws had wreaked serious amounts of damage; Shiftry faired well, considering he faced many type disadvantages - amazingly, he'd knocked Crobat out early with Hidden Power, but found a much larger challenge in getting close to Arbok thanks to a lethal use of Gunk Shot; Linoone's Crush Claw and Ice Beam attacks had done serious damage and Furret lay defeated, but Machamp seemed almost impervious. And then the Celestial Pokémon fell, with a battered Gardevoir standing victorious.
Chance could not help but feel that war was a fast, fleeting thing that was beautiful and terrifying. And then the bizarre chattering of Helicopter blades ran overhead, whipping scattered leafs into a twirling frenzy.
"Enough!" cried the woman, frowning. Of all her Pokémon, she only returned her bow-ridden Gochiruzeru to its capsule. The man followed suit with only Wooguru, until Tommeh stood with his weakened team surrounding him, as exhausted as his friends were; sweat beaded his forehead, and his brain literally ached - it was beyond difficult to control six Pokémon at once in such a clustered, busy environment. His heart pounded against his chest.
"We were aware we could not win, we only used this time to stall. And you've fallen right into our trap, yes, a trap within a trap. Your flaw was underestimating us; we are not Team Rocket. Yes, you see it now, Tommeh. You didn't anticipate the intelligence we have."
The ear-popping thuds came closer as the Helicopter descended; its twistered winds surrounded the three as they stared with cold hate and exhaustion. The Black leader seemed lost for words; he had not anticipated admitting any form of defeat - his pride was bruised. Tommeh felt similar pain, despite his undeclared battle victory. He'd won the battle ... and lost the war.
Two long rope ladders descended from said helicopter, and the two unusual leaders, now the rulers of the alliance, gripped them firmly, with confidence. The woman even smiled, before saying one last thing. "This entire vicinity is rigged with explosives. Black and White, is no more, we are now Team Plasma! See you in the next life."
Chance and Tommeh bore the same expression; their skins blanched, their similarly blue eyes hollow with shock. Yet in all their similarity, Tommeh did not even know Chance sat there. If he had, perhaps he'd spur himself into action.
Instead, he and his Pokémon simply stood there, before coming together in a huddle with Tommeh in the centre. Noctowl perched himself upon his trainer's shoulders, Gardevoir put her arm around his right shoulder taking left side, Shiftry guarding the trainer's right side, leafy fans covering his chest. Typhlosion and Linoone stood guard upon his front, and Flygon guarded the back. In recognising death, in their years of friendship, they were one.
"Guys, it's happened. We've finally been beaten," he murmured, and only more silent tears of sorrow and acceptance littered their cheeks; Tommeh and Gardevoir cried in the most human way; Typhlosion and Linoone's chests heaved and their guarding limbs trembled; Noctowl and Flygon's wings shook, sand gently floating from the dragon's wings, several feathers from the majestic owl's; Shiftry's eyes cast dark wet streaks upon his wooden face, but otherwise, he was the same expressionless being as before. "Thank you all for always being by my side. Let's throw a party in heaven, yeah?" he asked, before his royal blue eyes latched onto the most horrible sight he could imagine; a scared child, within the radius of the to-be explosion, with eyes as wide and deep as he'd ever seen. Gardevoir gasped.
As the small team broke in hurry to save him, Tommeh's words were lost to the air shattering force of the explosion. His eyes were instantly blinded, his ears instantly deafened; he felt absolutely nothing, not even a moment of pain, as his life was snuffed out in the power of the blast. And through his own weakness his bond with Gardevoir prevailed, and her last sight was his own as their eyes were seared; it was of Noctowl, bursting forth with a Protect shield covering his back, flying as quickly as he could as he ripped that child from the branch and dragged him far into the sky, far, far away from the forest.
Tommeh died with relief on his face, and it was that contented smile as the body disappeared in flames that haunted Chance eternally, how he'd spied upon that human and his best friends becoming decimated in the firey death, and it was that moment when Chance promised himself that he would be the one to put a stop to the war in Isshu, even if it killed him as well.
Of course, the events of that day were as publicised as possible; a Johto hero had died valiantly trying to save a region he had no right saving, and how nothing survived the final attack.
In secret, Noctowl stuck to Chance like glue; they were both injured, even with the help of a Protect shield. Manmade bombs were more powerful than even an Electrode using Explosion, and no Pokémon could resist such strength. But Noctowl found a new strength in Chance, and the two became best friends. After all, Tommeh's last words had been "Protect that kid!".
And ever since, he had.