Author's Note:
I've been toying with this idea for quite a few years now and I think it's time I throw my hand at writing it down and hope for the best. Well, not exactly best as I wouldn't be able to better my writing skill/technique without practice and like they say. Practice makes perfect.
Though in terms of writing and in fan-fiction, it's more or less: 'Practice makes a better author, able to stand mindless flames and accept the honest criticism.'
Disclaimer: The plot is mine, only one character is mine and the rest belongs to it's rightful owners.
Thunder rumbled in the distance as dark clouds neared The Ozark Plateau or as they are more commonly known, The Ozarks, a vast mountainous region located between the Appalachians and The Rockies. The Ozarks was home to several mountain ranges, ones that spanned through the states of Arkansas, Oklahoma, Kansas and Missouri. They consisted of four sections, the largest one being the Salem Plateau, next were the Boston Mountains, after which were the Springfield Plateau and lastly the Saint Francois Mountains.
The storm that neared The Ozarks with an unnatural speed not even seen in the worst of hurricanes and storms continued without mercy, whispers heard among the forests through the touristic and hitch hiker routes told that it was the worst storm ever and that destruction and panic were left in its wake.
Even in the distance the winds of the storm were already being felt as the trees waved and creaked heavily.
Loose brown hair waved with the wind before they were tucked under a hood, which concealed the visage of its owner under shadows, gray eyes briefly scanned the surroundings for any immediate danger before the hooded drifter vacated the grounds.
The sky darkened as the storm neared even closer to the Ozarks, and not even five minutes had passed since the drifter had left the small glade. The hooded wanderer imagined that the glade must've been under the storm by now with the speed it possessed, and only had a few doubts that the storm was made through supernatural means, being no stranger to the unknown and mysterious underworld that most people ignored through their daily lives.
As for what exactly made the highly probable supernatural storm, only vague guesses crossed through the wanderer's head, most that blamed it on a magical force of some kind. Though then again, the drifter didn't know the extents of how powerful Nature was or could be when fully angered
A droplet of water fell on the stranger's arm, at which the drifter shivered from the intense cold felt from the droplet, more evidence for a supernatural storm as the wanderer's hood flapped with the wind, one hand holding the cowl as the drifter ran, the high winds pursued as if devils possessed. The wanderer swore softly as the hood was blown backwards by a particular powerful gust of wind, his face entering the day's limited light due to the storm.
He glanced backwards towards the sky, his fear becoming true as the storm was almost on top of his being, feet once more being worked as he ran with all his might, intent to find a place where the storm would not catch him. Though from the looks of it, the storm would catch up to him at one point, he'd do all he could to proverbially give the storm the one finger salute with his determination and drive.
The supernatural roars of lightning thundered across the mountain range, akin to a mythical dragon's roar as the storm seemed to surge with more energy, its apparent intent on capturing the man who was barely escaping its grasp and rapidly losing to the storm.
He was now drenched from top to bottom, shivering lightly from the intense cold he felt due to the gusts of rain-filled winds the storm seemed to throw at him, the downpour of rain being heard just behind him, seemingly nipping at his heels, toying with him.
Any doubts of the storm being possibly natural were thrown out the window.
Storms did not act like a person nor did they toy with people, nor pursue with intent.
Curses were drowned out by the draconian roars of the lightning as they streaked across the darkened sky, as if eager to finally pounce on their prey, he'd lost track of time and his bearings due to the still ongoing chase. His eyes spotted a familiar tree, the tree where he had stopped for the day before it had turned to the proverbial hell on a hand basket. He only hoped that the tree had the flexibility and endurance to hold up against the storm, otherwise… He threw that train of thought away, his mind and focus now on the tree.
He crouched down and jumped as high as he could, his hands grasping one of the tree's thick branches, and with the momentum, threw himself at another thick branch, repeating this maneuver once more before he spotted his backpack. He had ignored the dull thumps against his chest of his M16 as he ran from the storm, but even he couldn't ignore the thumps of his rifle as he climbed the tree. His chest throbbed with dull pain, and struggling with one hand, he reached out for his backpack before his vision was filled with the flash that filled his being with incomparable dread.
The last thing he heard before he knew nothing more and embraced the darkness was the draconian roar of the lightning, its rumbles victorious in tone rang across the plains.
All was not well on Earth.
Inquiries and investigations were made after the storm's sudden 'death', and what was found or rather missing shocked the entire world to its core.
Leaves weaved through the air, carried by soft breezes of wind as they drifted through the calm plains of grassland, various clouds dotted the sky which created ample shade for the denizens who wandered lazily and calmly through the plains, clearly enjoying the beautiful and serene day that it was.
Off in the distance, located in a hill, stood a two story building which was connected to a rather plain looking windmill. Inside said building were two figures that could not enjoy of the day because of a rather grim missive that was received on that day.
"'Due to the recent spikes of murders and barbaric mutilations of pokèmon and human alike across the various regions that make up the National Pokèmon League, a council has been called to discuss this development and see what can be done.'" said the voice of one Tracey Sketchit, as he read from the letter the laboratory had received, or rather one Professor Oak had received.
"'The council will be held in three days in the Indigo Plateau. This is a grave issue, do not falter or be absent.'" continued Tracey as said Professor pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly getting the subtle threat to everyone's positions and reputation should one dismiss the missive.
He could feel the beginnings of a headache, he hated politics of any kind but he still had to do it for his passion and even then, what the letter said was true.
It indeed, was a grave issue that rocked the Pokèmon League to its core by their savage depravity, even Team Rocket had their limits and the sheer horror of the mutilations was something they were not willing to cross as they had sent a letter to the League to its entirety by an anonymous courier followed by the other Teams following their paths as they too, had limits they weren't willing to cross.
Yesterday, he had received various calls and two in particular filled him with hope as both Ash and Gary had video-phoned to voice their outrage to their idol, although Gary's was a bit quieter than Ash's, it still got the message across. They were going to postpone their Journey's and head back to Pallet Town to ensure the town's safety.
After all, Pallet Town was just a quaint town without a police force, relying on Viridian's for the most part, since nothing else but a stolen pie from Delia's house had ever been reported to the police department in two years, and even then that wasn't taken as seriously as Delia wanted to.
He chuckled to himself, that was quite a pie she made.
Apple, if he recalled correctly. Quite delicious too, maybe he should-
"Professor?" asked his assistant as Oak was brought from his mental wanderings of delicious pie and Delia. "Yes, we must get things in order. Can't leave the laboratory and the pokèmon unattended," said Oak to Tracey; though more to himself, as he stood from his chair, rubbing his chin in thought.
Ash and Gary were fast on their way to Pallet Town, and would probably arrive the next day or the day after that, which gave him enough to prepare. Tracey who knew the laboratory and the reserve were the pokèmon stayed like the back of his hand and could help in defenses should anything happen or threaten the laboratory, the pokèmon or Tracey himself.
He mentally frowned, people started being fearful and paranoid once the news of the mutilations and murders hit the news two days ago, so he couldn't leave anything to chance given the circumstances. People had the capability to do stupid things when riled and thrown into the right mind set of panic and terror, and from what the authorities and professionals such as himself feared and saw, this had the capability to drive the populace into madness due the powerful paranoia the acts gave to those who saw it.
The Professor shook his head from that train of thought, he had a laboratory to prepare before he left for the League Council. All the while, his mind going over the only one piece of evidence that showed that the acts were perpetrated by the same group of people, one strange word whose origins could not be found everywhere after a day's search by countless researchers, linguists and scientists.
'Yeh'
The forest that was part of the Professor's ranch and that partly surrounded the laboratory was tranquil, undisturbed except for a few instances of pokèmon either running or walking through the forest. One of said pokèmon was calmly walking through the forest, a small smile adorning its face as it walked, clearly enjoyed at seeing the beauty of the forest without interruption save for a few pokèmon children running around and playing innocent games, which made the smile a bit bigger, the day being a perfect one.
Light pierced the plentiful foliage of leaves and shone down into the forest, lightning the path that pokèmon took in its tranquil walk, content and happy as it walked, very light rumbles being felt as it walked due to its weight.
The pokèmon sighed in content before light growls filled the air, a blue scaled paw waved near its face for a few seconds, slightly annoyed at the pesky insect that had started to bother it in the middle of its walk. Though this got the Pokèmon to think, most insects ignored it for the most part since it had scales and scale plates for the most sensitive parts of its body. And since it knew quite a bit about insects from having being around the kind Professor Oak's lecture/discussion he had with his assistant about insects and their nature around scale pokèmon.
One part that it did remember was that insects, most being of different varieties of mosquitoes and flies, preferred organisms who were either helpless (IE defenseless), in the middle of decomposition, a mixture of helpless and at the edge of death, or a simple at edge of death creature. Once it remembered that specific bit, it stopped its walk and started to look and sniff nearby, slightly hopeful on being able to find the creature that the insect had once been at.
It spotted another insect and using it's sharp eyes, eyes that were capable of seeing through cave-like darkness, and followed the spastic insect as it followed the scent of a free meal. And once the insect had finally arrived to its free meal, the pokèmon's eyes widened as it gasped, eyes gazed at the mauled, bleeding and slightly-conscious form of a human, incoherent mumbles and mutters being said but not grasped by the Pokèmon.
Tracy and Oak widened their eyes as the alarm klaxons went off, the security system not having being turned for more than ten minutes and already was going off shocked them momentarily. They turned their gazes towards the computer, as it triangulated off a grid-based map, the Forest region being triangulated further and further until it stopped in a specific area. It was close to the laboratory, and in the current circumstances, it was too close for comfort.
"Temperatures in the Forest region in the reserve have drastically lowered. Most probable cause is an Ice-type attack. Execute extreme caution Professor," a robotic voice stated as the area that the computer triangulated in the Forest region slowly blinked. Said Professor nodded to himself as he walked purposefully towards the exit of his laboratory, his assistant quickly behind his gait.
Already on the first floor of his research laboratory, Oak walked through the study, lobby and promptly walked out of his Research Laboratory. Quite intent on handling the unexpected incident, he saw Tracey already had his Scythe partner besides him, tense and ready for anything. He nodded to Tracey, who took off running towards the Forest region with Scythe at his side.
"Claire!" he called out, before being answered by a roar that filled him with pride each time he heard it. "'nite" said the evolved form of Dratini and Dragonair. His Dragonite, Clair, landed in front of him just a few moments later after having heard his call.
"Good to see you, Claire. Looking healthy and fit as ever," he praised to her, as she smiled and blushed lightly from the praise. "But now's not the time for idle chit chat, I'm afraid. We have a situation and I might need your help to take care of it," he informed her as he turned around, his gaze towards the Forest region where his assistant was at now. Clair nodded and lowered herself, and with a grateful nod and smile, Oak mounted her back.
His grip tight on her form, he nodded, "Head towards the Forest, Claire," he ordered as she nodded and with a few flaps of her draconian wings, got into the air and blasted her way towards the edge of the Forest region.
Just as Tracey and his Scythe arrived on the edge of the Forest, Claire landed and the Professor quickly dismounted her. "Let's go!" Oak ordered after letting Tracey a second or two to breathe after the run, and off they went into the Forest, headed towards where the Ice-type attack was done.
Labored breaths and heavy gasps filled the air as they arrived, the ice already melting off the leaves and trees. The pokèmon who did the attack simply pointed to the slightly-conscious form that was a fellow human being to Tracey and Oak, who widened their eyes at the serious and possibly fatal condition the person was in.
"-hu... N-n-next t-time. I...I-I-I'll fin...n-nally k-kill you-u..." mumbled the male voice of the person before he finally slipped into consciousness, a testament to his will at even being conscious through the insane amount of wounds the man had on his being.
"Tracey, I want you to go back to my lab and call the emergencies. From what I remember from my small bit of human medicine (A simple requisite to be a Pokèmon Scientist. Go Figure), if this man isn't in a hospital being treated in the next hour, he'll die. Now go!" he ordered as Tracey nodded without a word and ran off with his Scythe at his side towards the research laboratory.
"You did good, Rebecca, quite resourceful for a Nidoqueen," he praised to her, before he turned his attention to the unconscious man. "Now to hope, that this man lives through it," Oak said as he took in the man's being, "l-l-live...on.." the man muttered unconsciously.
Brown hair, black urban camouflage gear, an automatic rifle of some kind; if the Professor hazard a guess on the highly illegal weapon on the man's person, along with several baseball-sized orbs of different varieties; almost all of which had pins except for one which pulsated with a bluish glow. Grenades of different kinds, if he had to guess again, been witness to Lt. Surge's armory he had in his gym for extreme emergencies. A nasty looking Knife, encrusted with blood of various kinds,
Oak only hoped that this man of unknown origins but who's trade was quite obvious would be a boon to the world at large instead of a heavy detriment to it. If he lived through his wounds, he thought as he knelt besides the man.
Somehow, the saying 'May you live in interesting times' came to mind as he stared at the man before dismissing the thought and doing all he could to alleviate the man of anymore pain while trying his best to not aggravate his wounds further.