This was written while listening to Let The Flames Begin by Paramore. I recommend listening to the song while reading this.
Word Count: 528
We're surrounded.
Lucas's back is pressed against mine, staring at the hordes of Galactic Grunts who have trapped us in a circle of their bodies. Waiting for the kill.
It's funny, really, to think that I'm in this situation. When Team Galactic had taken over Shinnoh, we'd thought they would be easily expelled by Cynthia, the Elite Four, and the powerful trainers in the Battle Zone.
Oh how wrong we were.
They were like insects, coming in numerous swarms and overwhelming larger, tougher enemies in sheer numbers. Who knows where Cyrus managed to get all of the members—a lot of people (myself included) believe he'd rounded up the remaining grunts of Teams Rocket, Magma, and Aqua and assimilated them into his organization.
We were some of the last ones left. The last free Trainers. May and Dawn…weren't here. May was somewhere among the Grunts that now cornered us. All captured trainers were forced into Team Galactic. Dawn had been killed in the ensuing chaos of Cyrus's attack on Hearthome City, along with Fantina.
Professor Rowan had vanished along with Sandgem Town, swept away by a Galactic Bomb. Barry had been in Twinleaf Town when Team Galactic had attacked Shinnoh from all different directions simultaneously. He'd began a trek to the Battle Zone to find his father's at his mother's request. Lucas kept in contact with him.
We'd lost contact with him as he flew over the wasteland that was Pastoria City.
Hoenn was next on Cyrus's hit list. If the megalomaniac couldn't create a "perfect world" then he'd have to destroy this one.
"Brendan?"
Lucas's voice is shaky, but I can feel him tense against my back, ready to fight at a moment's notice.
"Yes?"
"I'm scared, but, at the same time, I'm not afraid. Does that make any sense?"
"Of course." I felt the same way. Scared of death, scared of dying, but not afraid to face the impending doom with my Pokémon.
Did the heroes of history feel this way in the final battle? Did they accept their fate? Or did they focus on their loved ones, and survive through dumb luck and perseverance?
I'd know soon enough.
This is how we'll go down. This how we'll be remembered—fighting to the end. Even if our deaths change nothing, a martyr always serves to inspires people.
Lucas was one of my closest friends. I couldn't begin to express how glad I was that he was with me, yet so sad that he was here at the same time. Being here meant certain death.
How many would we take with us, you ask?
As many as we can.
And as the Galactic Grunts slowly release their Pokémon to fight, I realize that it doesn't matter what the heroes of old history had thought when they went to battle.
All that matters is the present, and how it impacts the future.
As Cyrus gives the order, I can already see the flames of war begin to burn in my mind.
I grab a Pokéball, and a smile flashes upon my face.
"Lucas? Give 'em Hell."
I lean into a crouch. Lucas does the same.
Let the flame begin.
This is just…ugh, I dunno. Review, if you liked it, though.