Targets
I'd just like to take this opportunity to announce the starting of 'Firing Blind', a sort of prequel/sequel/accompanying story to Targets. It follows the journeys of another set of characters, and while only three or four will feature beyond a cameo or two, both stories are intristically linked. When it comes to it, Firing Blind probably started before Targets, only I've only written two chapters (and the second one is set at the end of the story). Expect it to be better-written than this. Actually, don't. Expectations are unhealthy things.
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Slash leered at his prey. The green suit didn't look very appetizing, but he figured that it would burn quite easily. The bugs that had inadvertently led him to the spot were totally immobilised by a clear substance that Slash had forgotten the name of. He knew what it was- it was the bane of his existence- but he hadn't a clue what it was called. Of course, that didn't matter, not with prey on it's backside with no means of escape. Recalling the small animal clad in green, Slash turned around to face it. The creature still hadn't moved, so the dragon considered it an easy win and struck with a powerful blow. It left a crack in the earth, but suddenly the creature wasn't there any more. Slash growled, glancing around furtively. What had taken his meal? As if in answer, a different animal sprung from the dirt, and starting running from the wide-eyed dragon. This one was also green, but was smaller, and had a red zigzag pattern around it's waist. The creature looked slightly reptilian, although it could have been an illusion. The only other thing Slash knew about the animal was that the green parts looked very appetizing.
His eyes narrowed, and a bolt of lightning shot from the sky and hit the creature head-on. He bounded over to the body, and saw that it had vanished, just like the first one. What was going on? Reflex made him spring backwards as a gargantuan blue and beige thing exploded from nowhere. Safely six or seven metres from the new arrival, Slash observed the creature, body tensed, and claws poised. The beast let out a bellowing roar and sluggishly swung a fist at the dragon. It's blow fell five metres short.
Slash bared his teeth, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. This was going to be easy.
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The Arbok slithered from a cargo hold, unnoticed by sailors and dockworkers absorbed in their jobs. It crawled past piers and slipways, saltwater from the hold lubricating the snake's body as it travelled. A moment later, the Arbok halted in front of a lonely boat, black sails billowing in the fierce wind. The moon had risen, and now shone it's light on the rows of customs buildings, warehouses, and docking cranes. A Weavile, standing guard, nodded admission to the hulking reptile, and it continued stealthily.
The defining feature of this pier, right at the end of the entire dock, was that there were no humans on it. The entire staff was made up of Pokemon. The boat was completely motorless, instead relying on the wind, and on tranquil days, the rowing of dozens of crewmembers. A Gardevoir glided from a converted shed, having sensed the Arbok's approach.
"What is it, Guile?" she asked, despite the fact that she already knew his answer.
His forked tongue darted from his mouth, and he squirmed, slightly but noticeably. "Mistress, there seems to be added security in this city now that Greengrove has fallen."
"You were able to infiltrate the news station with no trouble."
"That was a news station," Guile replied. "Machinima's government would not waste resources on the bane of it's existence."
Her eyes narrowed. "He dies. Monday. Not a minute later. End. Of. Story."
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Oracle cocked an eyebrow. "A mission? Now? When you need to find that thing with the ice?"
"Are you implying that Revoir, of all people, would suspect me?"
"No, I'm just saying..." The two of them, with Zero, were walking down a deserted street. As they passed a couple of dumpsters, the Captain's reply was interrupted by a tinny clattering sound. Probably just a Rattata or Raticate going through rubbish.
"This Jeremy Ducky thing will work out fine. Find him, kill his rival or whatever, collect the cash, and kill him. Easy," smirked the Captain. A phone started ringing. "The hell is this?" he asked into the mouthpiece.
"This is a sworn foe of yours," rasped the phone, the voice slightly echoing. "I am holding a gun, and can fire at you from my current position. Tell me your plans in five seconds. Four..."
The Captain frowned. "I could just sweep this place with a Dark Pulse, you know."
"My body absorbs dark matter, fool."
His frown suddenly morphed into a smile. "Actually, the joke's on you now." Before the person on the other end could figure the statement out, black and yellow fur sprouted from his skin, and he dropped onto all fours. Black ears ringed with gold shot from the back of his head, and a tail with the same colours extended from his backside. His clothes fell off him, and a orb of shadowy energy formed in front of his now-foxlike face.
"Shadow Ball!" The attack flew from him, and right at a nondescript trash can more than twenty metres from them. On impact, it exploded violently, splitting the trash can cleanly in half, and hurling a person inside it in the direction of a brick wall. At once, the Umbreon's escorts hurried towards the body that had flown from the bin, and a Skarmory perched on a belltower gave up the guise of a gargoyle to check on it too. The Umbreon rolled his eyes and bounded over to the congregated steel-types. "Oi, let me through."
They parted, and he walked into the circle that his comrades had formed. Blood had formed a puddle at the body's head, and now that he looked closely at it, he saw that it was- had been- male. Shards of bone decorated the area where he had impacted with the wall, and flecks of blood dotted a dumpster nearby. It would be pretty hard to cover this up without a conspicuous sheet of tarpaulin or similar material. "Zero, we need a Surf. Oracle, Arrow, take cover."
As the water swept over the body and the bits of bone and blood, fire erupted from the Umbreon's back, before swirling into a gigantic funnel of flame. With smooth, almost liquid movement, it hopped from undamaged fur and onto the whirlpool from Zero's Surf. As the fire and water mixed, the body was incinerated and the ashes dissolved into atoms, then poured into the drains and sewers.
"That was... quick."
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The first sign of the fossils was a barren wasteland. We'd tried disarming the traps, but when Forward and Revert owned up and admitted, shamefacedly, that they didn't really know what they were doing, we decided to face off against the prehistoric army. May and the other two had woken up by then, of course. So we'd marched through trees and past rivers, between mountains and over glaciers. We'd just passed through an overgrown grove of bamboo trees when the stark brownness of the land ahead staggered us like a physical blow.
"What the hell happened?" gasped May.
The Drifblim sighed sorrowfully and responded with a gesture at the mountains ahead. "Mamoswine and Yanmega. I suspect Kabutops involvement too," he added, with a glance at deep gashes in the ground.
"They destroyed all of the trees here? Why would they do such a thing?"
"Coal's orders, most likely. It is not their usual instinct, I can tell you."
I scanned the lifeless land. "What's the point of killing a forest?"
"So that we cannot hide from the Aeordactyl."
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A column of humans was leaving the City of Fertility, many carrying others. In all, maybe thirty thousand humans out of a few million had survived the attack- less than one per cent. There were still trainers in Greengrove, trying futilely to save the city, but after a threatening televised message delivered by a tied up ten-year-old girl with a gun aimed at her head, the vast majority of the population had fled the city. The mayor (and anyone else of high political standing, including the unofficial Gym Leader) was dead, body savaged by a Houndoom and then incinerated. Presumably by the same Houndoom, although the fire that had coincidentally struck the city that day could have helped.
In the wrecked gatehouse, a man stood still, clutching a Pokeball. A radio was on, playing quieted music, and a huge hole blasted into the only surviving wall revealed a scene of chaos. Pokemon of every shape and size lumbered, scurried, or glided around, in the work of clearing roads and doorways for this city to be fully accessible. From the inside, at least. As the man watched, a Blastoise and a Nidoking fired a combined attack at a steel door. The metal crumpled with the force of the attack, and was tossed carelessly to the side. A pair of Machoke in the process of removing a hefty metal beam narrowly avoided having their heads taken off by the missile, and a Rattata, seeking scraps of edible material, was crushed by it. The blood that squirted from underneath the sheet of steel was lapped up by a pack of Poochyena, and the very act made the man's stomach squirm with revulsion. The archipelago was indeed the bringer of Apocalypse.
Behind him, more than a kilometre away, twenty-three dragons peeled off from the end of a squad of airborne guards to meet the column of humans, who they were determined would not find solace in reaching Machinima. If they ever did.
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The man in the end is either going to become a main character and live a long life, or else be killed off in the next six or eight chapters, starring profusely in all of them until his horrible death. Just to calm any fears for or about him you may have.
On an unrelated note, review, review, review!