Chapter One: Birth Of A Shadow

(A/N) Hey guys, here we go with the second update! Although this chapter does serve as more of a prologue than a proper chapter, and many of the main characters have yet to be introduced, I hope you'll all bear with me and enjoy this. This will be a very dark story at times, as I intend to make the pokemon world as realistic as I possibly can. Just so y'all know. This is going to be far removed from the anime. People will get hurt. Would love if anyone reading this just decided to take it upon themselves to leave a review. Any sort of criticism is welcome, as long as it's constructive. And reviews are the lifeblood of any authors on fanfiction. How else can we know if our stories are being enjoyed? Also, as I'm setting this in a new region, I'm open to suggestions about gym themes and leaders. Maybe I'll even take on a couple of OC suggestions in the future…

Disclaimer: I, most unfortunately, do not own Pokemon. Sadface. But I do lay claim to any and all, characters, regions, towns, etc. of my own creation. I do not intend to make any money off of this particular piece of writing. I would greatly appreciate an absence of lawsuits.

The young boy ran, oblivious to his surrounding, constantly tripping over the roots of trees, small shrubs, even falling into a nest of rattata, receiving several bites from the small rodents. These minor distractions barely served to slow him down, despite his tender age he moved as if all the demons of the Reverse World where on his heels. Behind him came the shouts of his pursuers, humans clad in black and a similarly coloured mightyena, yelling and barking after him as he raced through the forest, climbing higher and higher up the mountain.

Above him several murkrow squawked in interest as the figures in black began to close in on the child, and took it upon themselves to swoop down, scaring the child's pursuers, cackling as a stream of curses rose after them.

The boy didn't even appear to notice this slight respite, continuing at the same pace as before, scrabbling up the mountain as the slope grew steeper, forced to use his hands in order to continue climbing. Tears streamed down his puffy face, and his eyes were reddened as a result. He was clad only in a pair of light orange pyjamas dotted with arcanine. The material was torn and stained with dirt from the journey up the mountain, thorns having cut through the thin material like a knife through butter. The boy paused for a moment to breathe through his sobs, and leaned against a tree, freezing as the sounds of his pursuers finally catches up with him.

He could hear the mightyena sniffing only a few feet away, and the low, dark grumbling of the men just behind it. He pressed his back against the tree, praying fervently that the men will not see him as they go by, and hoping against hope that somehow their mightyena's nose wouldn't pick up his scent.

Suddenly the mightyena's sniffing subsided, and it began to growl in a deep, primal tone. The men paused behind it, evidently concerned, and one stooped down next to it, asking: "What's wrong Fang? What's out there?"

The pokémon's hackles rose, and its growling became even louder. The trainer, unnerved reached down to his belt and took out a pokéball, releasing a haunter, and nodding to his partner to do the same. The other man fumbled in his pocket for a while before finding his pokéball, and sent out a koffing to join the other two pokémon. He then pulled out a small handgun from the holster on his left hip, knocking the safety catch off.

"What's going on?" He asked wearily to his partner, who was still kneeling next to the growling mightyena. The haunter and koffing were similarly agitated; the haunter's face set into a terrifying grimace, its eyes darting from side to side, the koffing puffing itself up to its full size, its eyes wide in…something that almost looked like…fear.

"They've picked up on something." The kneeling trainer said to his comrade, shaking his head slowly. "And they're not happy about it. Don't graveller live on this mountain? Maybe the kid got caught by a group of them?"

His partner laughed grimly. "Imagine that, getting away from us while his house is burning down only to be torn apart by those rock-monsters."

The boy glances around the area around him, his eyes darting from side to side, looking for any sign of graveller, or any other dangerous pokémon for that matter. He had been so caught up in escaping from those who had been pursuing him he hadn't given any thought to where he was actually running to. He had heard plenty of stories about graveller as a child, how they were prone to attacking trainers travelling through their territory, and it wasn't unheard of them to kill passing hikers. They didn't eat their victims though. Like all rock pokémon, the diet of a graveller consisted of a variety of rocks and stones. However, that didn't make the thought of being killed by one of them any more appealing.

The kneeling man scowled, not noticing his mightyena take a few hesitant steps towards the long grass in front of him. "Serves the little shit right." He muttered. "Ought to have had the decency to stay put and die with his parents. The boss'll be up in arms if we don't return with his body."

His partner only laughed once more. "Come on, Mel. Do you really think that kid has any hope of lasting through the night up here? Hell, I wouldn't even be up here, except that you're here too and we're getting paid for it! Why don't we just head back and tell the boss he got eaten by a golem, or shredded by a flock of zubat or something? Hell, we might end up that way if we stay up here for too long!"

"He'd want proof." Mel stated glumly, suddenly noticing his mightyena edging into the tall grass. "What's going on Fang? Is he in there?"

The mightyena started growling, and then yelped. The grass began to shake, and Fang yelped once more, pain audible in his voice. "Nitro! Rev! Go help him!"

The koffing and the haunter floated towards the source of the disturbance with as much haste as their floating bodies were capable of, quickly disappearing into the undergrowth. Snarling and yelping of various kinds burst out of the long grass, and the two men began to wonder what could possibly be going on, before their mightyena burst out of the undergrowth, its eyes wild, bite marks bleeding feely all over its body. It ran straight past its trainer and his companion, closely followed by a similarly wounded koffing and haunter. The koffing was considerably deflated, and also covered in bleeding bite marks, while the haunter, not having flesh to pierce, simply looked drained, floating a mere foot from the ground, its eyes rolling, its face locked in a countenance of extreme pain and terror. They also fled past their trainers, not listening to the streams of swearing calling them back.

The trainers looked at one another; their eyebrows raised in confusion, and turned slowly to the grass. The unnamed one raised his handgun, arm shaking slightly, aiming at the undergrowth in the direction their Pokémon had fled from, and was about to pull the trigger when a dark shape sped out of the thicket to his left and clamped its jaws around his wrist.

He dropped the gun, screaming in agony. Mel whipped out his own gun, but in the time it took for him to do so the shape had disappeared back into the undergrowth.

"What the fuck was that thing?!" he yelled to his partner, who only groaned, his left hand clasped around his right wrist, blood oozing between his fingers, the crimson liquid shimmering in the moonlight.

He grabbed his partner and dragged him away from the tall grass, heading back the way they had come from. "You're right," he cursed, taking a second to pause and look back at the tall grass where the creature had appeared out of. "The kid's got no chance out in this god-forsaken hole. Let's get the hell out of here."

They walked away, and for a short time the sound of their footsteps, and muffled curses, were heard, until suddenly a terrified scream echoed throughout the forest, followed by the sounds of gunfire, and another scream, cut off this time, and then all was silent.

Murkrow began to take flight into the air, making for the direction where the screams had come from, cackling darkly to one another. A noctowl screeched, hunting through the forest for any unfortunate rattata or patrat that were unlucky enough to come across it. The boy took a deep breath, and moved away from the relative protection of the tree, inching his way into the glade. In the darkness he stood on something angular and hard. He knelt down to pick it up, trying to inspect his find in the dim moonlight, eventually having to rely more on his hands than his eyes for identification. He felt the cold metallic surface of the object, noting the shape, and remembered the guns that the men had been carrying. One of them must have dropped his, the child surmised, perhaps when whatever that thing had been had attacked him.

Despite the darkness of the night, something flickered out of the corner of the boy's eye and he sprung to his feet, hesitantly raising the gun in front of him. "Who's out there?" he asked, his voice wavering. "What do you want?" Only silence met his words, until it was broken by the screech of the noctowl, returning to the area once more in its search for food.

The boy began to shake, tears streaming down his face as fear threatened to overload his senses. The hand holding the gun dropped to his side, and he shook his head, dismissing the tears in his eyes. He turned around, and screamed, staring into the face of the demon that had attacked the two men only a short while before.

Its bright, amber eyes met his own blue ones, and were filled with a look of wisdom and understanding greater than the boy had ever known. His hand opened and the gun fell to the forest's floor. The creature took a slow, deliberate step towards him, its face only inches away from his own, and growled softly.

"Absol."

Eight years later…

Four men were seated around a large table in a dimly lit room, dozens of boxes, filled with all sorts of documents and files, were spread out all over the rickety table, its legs creaking under the weight. The television blared in the corner, and took up their full attention. Several pokémon stood around the room, peering out of windows or just looking wary, amongst them a hitmonlee, a breloom, a nidorina and a kirlia. The talking box held little amusement for them.

A rather frazzled looking man in a suit stared out at them from the television, appearing to quickly look over the notes that lay before him, before taking a deep breath and beginning. "We have received reports of another Shadow attack, this time in Oakdale Town, over one hundred and fifty miles from last week's sighting. As always, the building attacked seemed to be used as a safehouse for the notorious criminal organisation, Team Rocket. Several Rockets were found, tied up and unconscious, in the building, by police who had received an anonymous top off only moments earlier. Around the same moment the police received the call, evidence was sent to them implicating those found with several felonies committed over a period of the last ten years, including arson, jewel heists, burglary, murder, aggressive assault –"

The first man dropped the remote that he had just used to switch the television off, and sighed, shaking his head. "How long are we supposed to keep watch over these things?" he asked; the note of complaint distinct.

"Just 'til the morning." Another muttered, clearly as impatient as the first to get the job over with.

"Fucking Shadow," The man sitting across from the two of them cursed, running his hand over his close shaven head. "Giving us all this extra work to do. How the hell can the boss not find this guy anyway?"

The last man took this opportunity to speak up, and his voice echoed through the room menacingly, though he spoke no louder than a whisper. "They say he can turn invisible." He rasped, the eyes of the other three men all trained on him. "He can walk through walls, can move faster than humanly possible and distorts the light that shines on him. I've had it from a friend who says he saw him one night, after three of us were captured when that big warehouse raid went bad, that he's eight feet tall, clad in black steel, and can teleport like an abra. People have claimed to have shot him or stabbed him time and time again, but he keeps coming back."

He paused for a moment, leaning forward, eyes locked on the man who had questioned their bosses' abilities. "Tell me," he murmured, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. "How do you stop a man like that? If he even is a man."

The second man stood up, laughing to himself, breaking the silence and shattering the sense of unease that had filled the room. "Come on," he chuckled. "You can't really believe all that crap. Most likely it's just a group of trainers with a grudge, or maybe a psychic trainer that's after revenge. No way there's some sort of superhuman thing out there, hunting for Rockets. That kinda shit only happens on the television. Not in real life."

He pushed his chair underneath the table and smiled, shaking his head. "Anyway, I'm going out for a smoke. You guys think you can hold the fort without me for ten minutes."

The first man spoke up once more, a note of apprehension in his voice. "We're not supposed to leave the room 'til dawn. Isn't that what the boss said?" he looked around for assurance and the other two nodded in confirmation.

The standing Rocket just shrugged. "Fuck it, what's going to happen in ten minutes? I'll chance it. That pinsir of mine could probably do with some company anyway. Poor thing's been out there all night while your pokemon get to keep warm and cosy in here with us."

He turned away, pushing past a scythe belonging to one of his fellow Rockets, opened the door and walked out, reaching his hand into his jeans pocket in search of his pack of cigarettes. For a brief moment he stood there, taking in the cool night's air, before pausing, realising that the pinsir, supposed to be on guard duty, was nowhere to be seen.

"What the–" He muttered, before noticing something lying next to a pile of crates that lay against the side of the building. He walked over slowly, drawing his gun, scanning the area for any sign of movement.

The pinsir lay slumped against the crates, bruises covering its body, cuts and bites dotting its torso.

"Fuck!" The Rocket muttered, about to begin shouting in order to raise the alarm, when he sensed something moving behind him. He spun around, gun raised, but something grabbed his wrist in an iron-like grip and squeezed, forcing him to drop the gun.

He paled, as his mind registered precisely who and what he was staring at. A figure almost impossible to make out, blending perfectly into the background, almost as though the figure was invisible. All that visible was a blank, white face, devoid of a mouth, nose or ears, bare except for the two burning blue eyes that remained locked on his, chilling him to his core.

The Rocket choked, and spluttered out, in a weak voice. "You…you really are real."

The figure stared at him for a moment, and then moved suddenly, faster than the man's eyes could follow.

Everything went bla–.