Title: Prisoner
Author: Shadow/Phantomness
Pairing: Championshipping (Lance x Red)
Fandom: Pokémon
Theme: #56, Crystal Tears

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: () for telepathy, ** for thoughts, italics if a pokemon talks

Warnings: Fanon, het, character death

Summary: Lance and Red have to deal with another mad scientist.


The tears ran down his face, cutting rivulets of silver into his cheeks. His captor watched with a pleased smile. They were beautiful, and his eyes were such a brilliant gold color that it made sense his tears ran silver.

His finding that ancient prophecy had been a stroke of luck, while forcing Professor Oak to decipher it had been even better.

Most of all, it was true!

Now, where was the weapon that could defeat any evil, the Sacred Sword? Legend stated that it was forged from silversteel, which he was collecting now. Surely, his scientists would be able to recreate it.

Anyone could wield power, and evil was relative.


"I hate you." Lance choked out. * Filthy humans… *

"You'll do as I say unless you wish your lover to die." Ishmael leered, showing golden teeth filed to sharp points. "You'd best hope I don't get tired of you, or else she's not going to be a virgin for much longer."

Anger flared in his eyes. "Don't touch her!"

His Mate would never lower herself to copulate with a mere mortal, especially one that stank of sin.

Moreover, Ishmael knew nothing. While he used silversteel weapons as part of his Dragon Mastery, the Sacred Sword was completely different.

The Sword was given willingly, to the Chosen One alone, and only she could wield it.

* Fool… *


"… Then do as I say…" Ishmael smirked.

He said nothing, biding his time.

Yes, his captive was doing exactly what was necessary. Now, how much silversteel would he need to forge the Sword?

Whatever, he'd have the man cry until he cried himself out. Maybe it was time to use the tear gas.

He would have the power he wanted!

Laughter echoed through the room, before it became a choked gurgle.


The redheaded man stood, laughing. "Poor fool, Ishmael… You wanted my silversteel, did you not? But you know; it was fortunate you made me cry those tears." He brushed his fingers against his cheeks, watching as silver hardened into sharp, thin blades. Ishmael did not speak of course, being dead. With a gesture, he shook off the chains that had bound him and slunk down the tunnels until he found his love.

The girl was fast asleep, drugged most likely, but it mattered little. A quick glance confirmed that she had not been touched. * Excellent… *

They were free.

Lance paused to cast Chain Destruction, and then walked on.


Finally, Red blinked her eyes open, seeing sunlight. * Oh… * "You saved me again?"

"Mm," Lance agreed.

"Oh well," She murmured, and kissed him. "Thank you."

"As if I would do anything else, dear wife," He retorted. "Men like Ishmael are like cockroaches. They never die."

"Definitely," She nodded. "But I'm glad you're safe."

He smiled, and nodded, before taking her home.


End Fic

Completed 8/2/06

Edited 5/19/09

And now that I've written fluff, time for a bit of angst, ne?

Silversteel is made from bone, blood, and tears… just in case you were wondering.