This is my first dark fic, I'm hoping that I'll spend more time on it than I did with school days.
Rated M for adult material (NOT lemons)
I don't own Pokémon…yet
A bang.
That how my story starts andfinishes.
A loud bang woke me from my slumber in my dark bedroom, red paint peeling of the walls and the familiar smell of my sweaty mattress, flickering orange light coming through the windows from the street lamps.
I suspected nothing of it, muggings happened all the time here, no one could help the poor guy shot in the alley; the ambulances were too slow for a gun wound to the chest.
That's how things are in Veilstone city, it's not all super stores and glittering lights, it's dark, gritty and instead of your weekly groceries you go round to your dealer or poker game.
I didn't bother trying to go back to sleep. Instead I walked into the next room; the same red paint was peeling from the walls, the main difference was that this room had a fridge and an oven as well as a cheap Ikea dining set, simple black plastic table with matching plastic chairs.
I opened the fridge to be welcomed by a gentle humming, a pale light and almost empty shelves.
After taking a gulp of slightly sour milk I went across the room to the bathroom, it too was minimalistic, a shower, a sink, a cracked mirror and a toilet were the only things in this stinking room.
I took a small towel from under the sink and turned the tap on getting it wet then rubbing a bar of soap into it.
I gave myself a quick wash before staring at the person standing in front of me, he had white hair drooping down over his face, there were dark bags under his eyes, and his eyes were dark blue with small irises from the lack of sufficient light in the room, he had a slight tan and broad shoulders, he was quite chunky, not fat but chunky.
I left the room to get dressed, putting on a pair of blue denim jeans and a black T-shirt, just plain clothes, no labels or anything that would make me stand out, most fifteen year olds my age fitted similar descriptions as myself, although their bags were all from them not getting their fix instead of lack of sleep, although I tried to avoid all that shit I could never say that I haven't strayed a little.
A bag of crushed Stantler antler here, a teenage whore there.
No one is completely clean on this side of town.
I walked to the door of my parents' room.
It was a mess like the rest of the flat.
Only one lump of a body was under the sprawl of covers.
My father no doubt it was out gambling again. That was our main problem, my dad spent most of his money in poker matches with the wrong sort of guys, while my mum, well she knows the heroine of this story on a first name basis.
I left the flat, putting on a black jacket made of some cheap leathery material.
The streets were still dark as I made my usual walk around the city, not really planning on doing anything except from thinking my own thoughts, getting lost in my imagination, a better world with no gangs, no teams, no drugs, just happy people living happy lives. No one dies, no one is hurt.
But the world seems empty and incomplete; happiness can only exist if there is pain, suffering, anger and hate. Without negative emotion there is no positive, and the people are too perfect, they live their perfect lives with their perfect pokémon, everyone had shinnies and perfect hair and eyes that changed colour from their moods, they had beautiful silk like names that flowed easily from the tongue like a line of poetry. They were perfect yet imperfect, their perfection caused anger and hate to grow inside of me, why could I not have the perfect lives of these Mary-Sues and Gary-Stues?
I shook off the thoughts of perfection and continued my walk through the dark streets, orange light guiding me, an even brighter light emanating over the buildings, showing were the rich upper class snobs were gambling and training their pokémon to fight Maylene.
I had only met the girl once and I was glad that I did not see her afterword for some time.
It was a walk similar to the one I was taking now, she was in an alley way just a block away from the one I was at now, it was a usual place for dealers to hang out for their deliveries, there was one there as I walked past, although unlike the usual hanging back from the light that was so typical for those of his kind he was hunched over a body, the body of a young girl, maybe a few months older than myself with bright pink hair. A glittering object came from the man's pocket, then there was a swift movement and a crunch, the tables had turned, the dealer was slouched over a dustbin while the girl pulled something out of her pocket, some handcuffs. She slapped them around his wrist and then to a drain pipe.
Seeing her over power someone so much bigger than her made me want to give her a wide birth, I stayed at a distance of at least one hundred meters from her gym, training with Machokes definitely helped her strength and skill, rumour had it that she had even beaten Crasher Wake.
I reached the same alley way that I had seen Maylene in not a year ago and heard someone crying.
At first I thought it was another prostitute wondering what she did to end up in this mess, but the sobs sounded masculine.
Compassion filled me as I jogged down to see whom it was and if I may be able to help in any way.
It was a man in a black uniform with a large red R on the chest and a black cap partially covering his white hair and his face. I knew who it was but it didn't register in my head.
I came in closer to hear murmuring coming from the sobbing man.
"After everything I did for them" he repeated over and over again.
I put my hand on his shoulder.
It was wet and warm and had torn fabric on it.
He turned his head slowly up to me.
My father was in front of me, wearing a team Rocket uniform and had a gunshot wound to his shoulder, a large puddle of water and blood surrounding him.
He looked into my eyes with regret and pain.
He weakly tugged at my arm.
He weakly pushed a sphere into my palm.
I looked down at it.
It was a red and white ball, a pokéball.
My father then grabbed my shirt and pulled me close.
He brought his lips to my ear and whispered.
His last word…was my name.
"Demetrius"
His fingers slipped.
The body slumped against the wall.
The man was no longer a man.
And then the pain came.
Well that was it.
It took so long for the name to be said as part of a bet I made with myself, that names aren't what people care about in the fics, please tell me if you noticed or even cared.
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