The Blackbird Army
—the four regions are at war. You are eligible to be drafted into your home's military force. Your Pokémon are your weapons. Your wish to go home is your driving force. Pray.
Act One:
—good day sir
December 19th, 2103
The letter was heavy in his hands, pressed into a stiff envelope marked with the emblem of the royal Sinnohian family. It had his name on it in mechanical print. He cut his finger opening it. His mama was peering over his shoulder. He could feel her fretting palms against his elbows, worried.
Dear Adrien d'Etoile,
We are most pleased to announce that you are hereby inducted into the esteemed Sinnoh Armed Forces. You will report to Snowpoint City Harbor on December 21st, 2103 at 7:00 AM. There you will be taken to Canalave City for your basic training and introduction. Please bring your Pokémon and their pokéballs. Please note that you are unable to have roaming Pokémon on the premises unless authorized for special training.
If you have any medical conditions that may hinder your service of the Armed Forces, please bring a physician's certificate including contact information for said physician. If you wear glasses, bring them. If you are married, bring proof.
Good day, sir.
Tezra Gavotte
—member of the local board
It was short and concise. He was a little glad for that, he supposed. Nothing to mislead him into thinking that he actually had a choice. Johto had been pounding Sinnoh relentlessly for the past few weeks, Adrien knew, and the military was on the look out for strong young men and women to replenish their ranks.
He was a young man, at least, although his strength was questionable. He had no hindering traits so to speak [save for a rather fearsome case of spinelessness] and he had Pokémon. That was the clincher, Pokémon. The manufacture of firearms was halted four or five decades ago in an attempt to promote peace. That made him want to laugh and cry at the same time.
"Oh, my baby," whispered his mother into her hand. She enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug, pulling him to her. "You're too young to join the army!"
Her eyes were wet with tears, unshed. His mother had never cried, even when his father had left all those years ago. He had been part of the Royal Guard, his father. Adrien had always been proud to have a papa like that.
He hugged her back and said, "It's fine, Mama. I'll be fine. It's going to be fine."
Fine, fine, fine. If he said it enough, maybe it would be true. He didn't want to fight. He was a bad fighter and his Pokémon weren't weapons. That had been the first thing he had learned when he first started battling: Pokémon weren't weapons, they weren't tools, they weren't disposable.
The pokéballs were suddenly heavy in his pocket.
"They're taking you younger and younger," sniffled his mama. "When Absalom joined you had to be at least twenty! You're just a boy."
Adrien felt the need to tell his mother that he was not a boy, not anymore. He was a boy when he was ten and starting out in the world and wanting to be famous and strong and revered, like all boys do. He was a boy when he thought that first Gym Badge was all it took to be a champion. Now he knew better. Now that he had a dusty box filled with Badges and a bucket full of failures, he knew that not everyone was a champion. He wasn't a kid.
Absalom was his father.
"I'll be fine," he repeated firmly.
"But it's war," she replied.
"Don't worry," he said, sounding much braver than he felt, because she was right: it was war. "They'll probably decide that I'm not good enough to be in front lines and put me in the reserves or something. I'll probably never even fight. Not once."
His mother wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her cream colored cardigan. Her cheeks were blotchy and her lips were trembling.
"But…you're leaving in two days. That's so soon! I…I mean…and you'll be gone for a long time and I'll miss you. I just…I'll miss you." She cradled his hand between both of hers, rubbing circles across his palm with her thumbs. "What if you don't come home?"
"I'll come home," he assured her. "In one piece. I'll even be a hero, if you want."
That was a lie. He knew it was lie. She knew it was a lie. But she still smiled.
"A hero?" she asked mildly. "Just like your papa. He was a hero. A family full of heroes. Oh, I don't need a hero, Adrien, I just need you here, where it's at least a little safe." She gave his hand a pat. "What do you want for dinner?" she questioned. He could feel her courage thrumming through the air.
"Whatever you're making is fine with me," he told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I'm going to go pack."
Her smile faltered, but then came back, plastic. He flinched and wished he hadn't said anything. She was trying so hard to be strong, he knew. He wanted to be strong as her, as his teeny-tiny mother. He hurried up the stairs so he wouldn't have to see her crying over the stove.
In his room, he did not pack. He sat down at his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. He wrote in cursive neat and tight. He was proud of his handwriting; he'd worked very hard on it. His papa had taught him cursive. He wrote:
Dear Jamie,
Jamie was his friend in faraway Hoenn, where it was hot and humid all the time, apparently. Jamie had told him he loved it there and that he loved his new home in Mossdeep.
I just got inducted into the Sinnoh Armed Forces. I guess that makes us enemies now, huh? Ha-ha, I'm just kidding, J. I'd think I'd probably drown myself in lemon juice before I'd fight you. You always win, anyways. Either way, how are you doing? Still moving up the ranks? You were a Sergeant already in your last letter. How is Hoenn holding up, by the way? Johto is murdering us. It's probably bad to say this, but it was pretty amazing to watch all the lanturn Johto sent our way; they took out a lot of the naval troops. It was on the news.
How is that egg you got from the Day-Care? Has it hatched yet?
I'm leaving in two days, on the Twenty-First. It's a little scary. Was it like that for you, too, J? Is it harder than it seems to leave behind your family and friends and your home? At least I'll have my Pokémon. Hart and Hope are at each others throats, as always, and Matthias is still trying to get them to cool off. Vanilla and Bisou don't really seem to care.
Anyways, I'll be going now. By the time you get this, I'll probably be gone, so just send Finn back to home, okay?
Ha-ha, I hope we never meet on the battlefield, J, but if this stupid war ends, let's get together for coffee or something.
—Adrien
He folds the paper into perfect thirds and slides it into an envelope. He scrawls Jamie's name on the front and then opens the door to Finn's cage. The pidgeotto ruffled his feathers. He had never liked being woken up from his naps.
"Come here, Finn," whistled Adrien, holding out his arm. Finn fluttered out, landing neatly and sticking his foot out so he could get the letter tied to it. "You know how to find Jamie." Adrien opened the window and Finn was gone in a second, wheeling away. Up, up, up—
and feathers falling down—
down—
d
o
w
n
Adrien slammed the window closed before any snow could get inside. It was always cold here. He wished that he could stay where it was cold, more than anything. He would get frostbite a thousand times if he could stay home and live like he did now.
December 20th, 2103
He packed.
He shoved clothes and socks and boxers into a duffel bag. He crammed as many bags of Hart's favorite Lux-Snacks and Hope's Chomp-Treats in as he could. He shoved Pokékibble into the side pouches in all of Vanilla and Bisou and Matthias's preferred flavors because he would bet anything that military food was nasty, even for Pokémon.
He really, really didn't want to leave.
December 21st, 2103
His mama's fingers were tight around his wrist, her lips moving furiously in the bitter morning cold. "Be careful, be careful, be careful, I love you, I love you, I love you" over and over again. He could hear the silent "come home to me, come home to me."
Be there at seven o'clock, the notice had said. It was five to and there wasn't even a sign of the boat. He was shivering in his pea coat, even with a scarf wrapped around his neck and a hat tugged down around his ears. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and let his mother fuss over him.
"Are you warm enough? Do you have enough food for the trip there? Are you hungry? I should have made you something to go. Here, you're freezing, take my gloves." She yanked his hands from his coat and pulled off her gloves, pulling them over his fingers in an almost violent manner. He winced. She caught it. "Sorry, sorry. I'm so sorry. I…I'm so worried. I don't want you to go."
"I don't want to go either," he told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and squeezing her to his side. "Don't worry. I'll be fine, it'll be fine."
That was his mantra: fine. Fine, fine, fine. He would fine, his mother would be fine, everything would be fine. Fine, fine, fine.
It wasn't fine, was it?
At six-fifty-nine, the boat loomed over the horizon. It was not a very big boat, but it was ominous and it made the sky look pale and dark. Snowflakes swirled down, slowly, lazily. Adrien wished he could have all the time in the world like they did. He wished he could move slowly and leisurely. He would come back from his holiday and go back to work at that little café on the main street. He would save up his money until he had enough to buy his own place and maybe have a little rematch with the Gym Leader, even if he wasn't that fond of battling.
It occurred to him, as the boat docked, that he had planned out his whole life in the few minutes before he boarded and probably walked to his death.
He laughed, soft.
His mother laughed, broken.
"I love you," she said.
"I love you, too," he said.
And then he left. He felt like he was leaving something behind. It was seven-thirteen.
Dear Jamie,
You know that coffee I spoke about? I'm going to have to take it back. I think I'll be dead before I see you again.
—Adrien
Act One: End
A/N: I'm very lucky to live in a country where I don't have to worry about falling bombs, or raining bullets. Like I mentioned, in the story the manufacture of firearms was halted to promote peace. It's ironic because a war broke out anyway. I don't know where I'm going with this note, but I just wanted to write something where a Pokémon's sole purpose was to be a weapon, particularly since many people emphasize the idea that they aren't weapons.
Huge thanks to my beta-reader, Happy2Bme.
And of course, the form for characters is below. That's why you're here anyways.
Name:
Age: Minimum age of 17.
Gender:
Hometown:
Current Residence: This does effect which nation they belong to. Note: You are permitted to submit a character that does not belong in the Sinnoh Armed Forces. Be warned, however, that is such is the case, they won't appear until a bit later in the story.
Military Rank: If you are new, like Adrien, you will be a Private. Note: No seventeen-year-old Marshals. Be realistic.
Appearance: Simply their physical traits, as they will be given standard issue fatigues. Do give me enough detail to work with; build, skin tone, hair color and style, eye color, the works. Don't be too outlandish, thanks.
Personality: As much as you can write. Please be descriptive.
Likes:
Dislikes:
Fears:
Family: Any close family members, living or dead. Perhaps include their name, age, relation to the character and occupation?
History: It is a time of war, but don't go crazy with the drama, please. If they aren't newly inducted, include how long they've been in the military and whether it was before or after the war began.
Pokemon: Maximum of five if you belong in the Sinnoh Armed Forces. If your character is a soldier in another nation's army, then they may have up to six. No legendaries and no shinies. You may have one combination of Eevee or Eeveelution/Pseudo-Legendary/Starter [i.e.: starter + eevee; pseudo-legendary + starter, etc.], but not one of each.
Other: Anything else you'd like to mention?