Hey, this is new. It's my second fic here, but I'm not worried. Anyway, I hardly have time to work on this, but I plan for it to be extremely long. X_X This isn't really the first chapter because it's so short. It's more of a prologue. Please don't flame me...
By the way: I don't own poke'mon and all of the characters were made up by a Japanese man who thinks the new Zelda game is a good idea.
-ChapterI-
"And in other news," the reporter said dully, "Poke'mon trainer Ash Ketchum who is currently the poke'mon master has beaten the elite four for the one-hundreth time." The reporter continued on giving details. As she talked, a pale blue light floated out from the screen, falling on the wooden legs of a large red armchair and the sandaled feet of whoever was sitting in it. If someone were standing behind the television set and looking at the chair, they would not be able to identify the person sitting in that chair, as his face was masked in the darkness. I do not know why it is blue light that comes from a television set, but that is what color everything visible seemed to be, and at the mention of Ash Ketchum's victory, the blue feet and bare, hairy legs gave a nervous shuffle. After the reporter announced a victory parade and was now talking about the president and another continent, a blue hand slipped through the screen of black. It held a remote and pressed a button on it. The word MUTE popped up on the bottom of the screen. I do not need to tell you that the sound stopped comming from the TV and that the blue hand hid itself once again. If the person I mentioned earlier were still behind the TV and were to squint very hard, they would see the vague outline of the same hand picking up a phone off of the base it was until recently laying on, and they would hear the soft clink of the other hand dialing a number. After a few seconds they would also hear a faint ringing and a almost silent crackle of someone picking up pn the other end. "Misty Waterflower's residence," said a quiet voice. "Misty," the shadowed man said, "You watching the news?" "Yes," Misty's voice said. "That's him," he replied, "Ash Ketchum. You know the rest." With that, the man hung up the phone. After a few seconds, the TV went out, and if that person were still behind the TV, they would not need to be able to see to know that the man was leaning back in his red armchair and smirking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Misty tossed and turned. She was in a gray bed with white sheets. On the floor was and assortment of clothes and underware. Her orange hair tangled itself in her grey tank-top. Sunlight peeked through the window next to her bed and fell on her body. The rays annoyed her and she tried to roll her back to them, but she fell out of bed. Misty had been drinking the night before and was wondering if she should just lie there and pee on herself of get up and walk to the bathroom. She finaly opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, which was also grey. The sun rose even higher and shined over the side of the bed and into her eyes. She blew her hair out of her face and pulled herself to her feet. Blood rushed from her head and for a moment, all she could see was crimson. Misty stumbled over the scattered laundry and into the bathroom. She leaned in and turned the shower on. She tried to remember her phone call last night. She knew she was supposed to kill someone. "Ketchup?" she muttered, "No, Ketchum." She smirked to herself at remembering his name, but suddenly felt funny. She leaned over just in time to barf into the sink.
By the way: I don't own poke'mon and all of the characters were made up by a Japanese man who thinks the new Zelda game is a good idea.
-ChapterI-
"And in other news," the reporter said dully, "Poke'mon trainer Ash Ketchum who is currently the poke'mon master has beaten the elite four for the one-hundreth time." The reporter continued on giving details. As she talked, a pale blue light floated out from the screen, falling on the wooden legs of a large red armchair and the sandaled feet of whoever was sitting in it. If someone were standing behind the television set and looking at the chair, they would not be able to identify the person sitting in that chair, as his face was masked in the darkness. I do not know why it is blue light that comes from a television set, but that is what color everything visible seemed to be, and at the mention of Ash Ketchum's victory, the blue feet and bare, hairy legs gave a nervous shuffle. After the reporter announced a victory parade and was now talking about the president and another continent, a blue hand slipped through the screen of black. It held a remote and pressed a button on it. The word MUTE popped up on the bottom of the screen. I do not need to tell you that the sound stopped comming from the TV and that the blue hand hid itself once again. If the person I mentioned earlier were still behind the TV and were to squint very hard, they would see the vague outline of the same hand picking up a phone off of the base it was until recently laying on, and they would hear the soft clink of the other hand dialing a number. After a few seconds they would also hear a faint ringing and a almost silent crackle of someone picking up pn the other end. "Misty Waterflower's residence," said a quiet voice. "Misty," the shadowed man said, "You watching the news?" "Yes," Misty's voice said. "That's him," he replied, "Ash Ketchum. You know the rest." With that, the man hung up the phone. After a few seconds, the TV went out, and if that person were still behind the TV, they would not need to be able to see to know that the man was leaning back in his red armchair and smirking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Misty tossed and turned. She was in a gray bed with white sheets. On the floor was and assortment of clothes and underware. Her orange hair tangled itself in her grey tank-top. Sunlight peeked through the window next to her bed and fell on her body. The rays annoyed her and she tried to roll her back to them, but she fell out of bed. Misty had been drinking the night before and was wondering if she should just lie there and pee on herself of get up and walk to the bathroom. She finaly opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, which was also grey. The sun rose even higher and shined over the side of the bed and into her eyes. She blew her hair out of her face and pulled herself to her feet. Blood rushed from her head and for a moment, all she could see was crimson. Misty stumbled over the scattered laundry and into the bathroom. She leaned in and turned the shower on. She tried to remember her phone call last night. She knew she was supposed to kill someone. "Ketchup?" she muttered, "No, Ketchum." She smirked to herself at remembering his name, but suddenly felt funny. She leaned over just in time to barf into the sink.