(A/N)
Offyerrocker: Oh hai!
Sarah: Vee!
Michael: O.O HOLY SH*T! WHY IS SHE TALKING LIKE THAT?
Offyerrocker: Well remember that formula thingy she took?
Michael: Yeah. Shouldn't you be able to remember the name of whatever it is she took anyway? After all, you did write this story.
Sarah: EEEVEEE!
Offyerrocker: Shush. Well let's get on with—
Michael: You haven't answered my question though.
Offyerrocker: Erm, you really shouldn't mumble, cos I can't hear a WORD you're saying. Anyway, it's been a while since I last uploaded.
Michael: Approximately half a year ago. Six months. Nobody noticed tho—
Offyerrocker: Hey, Michael? See how Sarah speaks right now?
Sarah VEEEEEEEE!
Michael: No crap. What of it?
Offyerrocker: Well you'll be able to understand her REALLY soon if you keep it up.
Michael: o.0
Offyerrocker: You know, somehow I just don't feel that these threats just aren't sufficient. I'll have to… **suspense** ADD SOME MORE TO EFFORT VALUE!
Sorry for the late (that's an understatement) update. I'm also juggling work on deviantArt, so excuse me. Helping with that other offyerrocker. (Imposter.)
12- Target
…
Noises.
…
Loud noises.
…Humans?
Yes. Human voices. Human voices making noises…
In an instant, the small, black-haired boy roused from his sleep, rising from the ground, eyes darting around the small alley, scanning his immediate surroundings, seeking out sounds. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He always slept lightly for security's sake, and today, it had paid off. Who knows when a vulnerable little child may be targeted by some lowlife predator?
Time? He checked his watch. 00:00. Midnight. Probably no coincidence as to the timing.
His ears caught scraps of a whispered conversation: "…co-or…fir…d… …uh… ahead…" "Is … right…?" "…data…match…"
He instantly picked out at least three distinct voices and analyzed them.
Male, mid 30s, approximately three known suspects.
A series of identical clicks resounded through the obscurity of the night, and the boy identified them as Uzi sub-machineguns.
Guns?
Lethal violence against was rather sparse, really, anywhere in any region where there existed humans and Pokémon. (Bullets won't stop a roaring Flamethrower in your way, and firearms won't bark in case of an intruder.) Generally Pokémon were more common and more effective, both for offensive and defensive purposes. But unfortunately, it still wasn't quite absent from the lives of everyday people.
People don't bring guns, especially ones like these, unless they intend to use them… And coordinated with perfect timing, at exactly 00:00, midnight… means these men are professionals. No screwing around here.
The boy peeled back the small cloth from his body, crawled slowly, stealthily, and- most importantly, silently- towards a small backpack filled with items especially prepared for various emergency situations, including this one. One couldn't be too careful…
Inside the bag was a portable med kit, a lock picking toolkit, a Swiss Army knife, and some emergency food and water rations, in the form of a couple handy MREs. All were purchased from a nearby army surplus store, with carefully amassed money (in various assorted spare change and a rare bill or two). There was even a small, unloaded service pistol and two additional clips stolen from a dormant police officer. (Sleeping on the job? He had it coming to him.)
The footsteps resounded increasingly closer to him- he took the pistol and the knife and dumped the other items in the backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and silently crept towards a nearby dumpster. The ground all around was littered with sand and dirt, except for a bare area accounted to its underage occupant. He grabbed a handful, shoving the pistol and the knife into separate pockets of his dirty cargo pants. Choosing carefully, he picked up a small chunk of broken pavement nearby with his other hand. Its irregular shape and fragile form would provide the most sound. He tossed the rock nearby, and it clattered on the concrete sidewalks and broke. There was a swoosh as the men aimed their guns in the general direction of the sound (which was exactly away from the child's position), and at that moment he sprang up and threw dirt into the men's eyes and into the loaded mechanisms of their firearms. The combination of the Uzi model's inaccuracy, recoil, fragility (when exposed to the elements such as soil) contributed to their failure in the hands of the men holding them; the dirt in the men's eyes, their distraction, and the target's size ensured that every squeeze of the trigger was fruitless. Every shot fired in spite of this was either fired literally blind, or a miss, so the few shots which actually fired bounced off of the ledges of the two bordering buildings right back into the cluster of men.
As the group of operative spluttered, choked and cursed, their target sprinted out of the alley and away from his pursuers.
Behind him, one of the men in the squad made out a blur of skin outside the grit in his eyes, and managed to cough out enough of the sand in his lungs to splutter into a walkie-talkie on his belt.
By the time they looked up with clear vision, their target was long gone, and they stood in the dim yellow light of a streetlamp, surrounded by a multitude of shadows and possible escape routes.
Mission failed.
(A/N): Hey, sorry for the short update—just an alert to tell you guys that I'm still working on this.
I'm just a little preoccupied right now. _