Part IV- The Scent of Whispers and Cyclone
Gary's hair which normally stood up in such a stark manner at that time was slicked onto his moisture-reeking head, and he ran his hands through it disgustedly as the shade kept retreating into the wide base of the rock. Heat flushed down onto his clothes, causing them to cling incommodiously onto his steaming skin.
he grumbled hoarsely, running his hands over his face again to wipe the running sweat from its edifice. His head swiveled upon his neck as he turned to gawk at his wholly shirtless companion, and a wave of chilling jealousy swept his spine.
Gary tried to get Brock's attention, if I ran around shirtless like that I'd have blisters the size of snorlax the next--
But Brock wasn't paying attention. His eyes were lowered to his feet, and though his back rested upon the same rock Gary rested under, his head dwelled between his knees as he sketched something with his fingers in the sand.
Gary shook Brock's shoulder gently, and Brock stammered to consciousness.
he mumbled. Sorry Gary, wasn't listening.
Well I can see that, Gary snapped, then softened his tone. I was commenting on how nice it would be to be able to take my shirt off. But we're not all as lucky as you.
Brock mumbled, once again, being half Samoan and half Japanese helps, but lying out naked on my gym roof helped too, I guess.
Gary sat agape momentarily, wondering how a mildly humorous comment could come from someone who appeared to be swimming in the furthest leagues of despair, but he found his wits again quickly.
Nice to hear you say something for the first time in six hours, Gary snarled, his eyes running down the sweat streaks which climbed down from Brock's temples onto his shoulder blades.
Brock muttered.
That doesn't cut it,Gary snapped facetiously, I'm hungry. You're gonna have to produce some food to make it up to me.
Brock leaned his head back against the rock. Hold on while I pull some food from the Pizza Hut up my ass.
Gary chortled and messed up Brock's sweat-drenched locks with a playful hand.
That's the spirit, Gary smiled. I knew I'd rub off on you sooner or later.
Too bad it had to be sooner, Brock retorted.
C'mon, Shale, Gary sighed, I know you're still in a bad way. Come on, spill it, papa's listening.
Brock smoothed his hair back down from Gary's assault as he pondered, disliking the hairstyle fully.
I should have taken a shower for a lot longer time this morning, he blinked the sweat from his eyelashes. Good God.
You're avoiding me, Gary raised his eyebrows seductively, then inched closer to Brock. Come on candy pants, tell me what's eating ya.
Brock twitched slightly, then shoved Gary over playfully into the ground. Ever call me candy pants again and you'll be digesting them.
Gary punched Brock in the shoulder when he was able to get back up, at least I got something out of ya.
You just don't understand, Brock closed his eyes, still able to see the sweltering mass of maize-colored, sweltering sand which whisked across the bright, sun painted horizon with his mind's eye. No one could understand.
Gary put a hand on Brock's shoulder. I think I'd understand more than you think.
Brock swiveled his head in Gary's direction, opening his eyes and looking at the thin, brash young man that looked up at him as well.
How would you feel, Brock choked, if one day your whole family was just hacked into pieces, and then you try to go do something about it, and then you do something that makes it so you can never speak to the girl you love aga-- but he choked off on this statement, having to draw his eyes away from Gary.
Gary pursed his lips. I am doing this for revenge purposes, but May wasn't actually killed. As for impossible love, well, let's just say that my love is just a distant crush that will never happen. But I'm okay with it. I just concentrate on one thing at a time. When my mom left us for that drunk bastard, I started training pokemon, and I just tried to stop thinking about it. I couldn't start training right away because I couldn't leave my sister alone, but once I actually--
Gary was cut off as Brock grabbed his forearm, his mouth open slightly, as if in awe. Gary was almost scared as Brock wouldn't let him go for a second or two, but after this moment Brock quickly let go and turned away.
My mom left me to take care of siblings too, Brock confessed. But I don't blame her. She couldn't handle being a single mother of ten when her husband left her.
She was only ten? Gary startled.
She had ten kids, Brock corrected. And trust me, she wasn't that old either.
Gary bit his lip and looked to the ground. How did you handle it?
I took care of them! Brock said firmly, suddenly sitting up straight. It was all I could do.
I'll drink to that, Gary nodded, pulling a small bottle of sake from somewhere Brock wasn't quick enough to have seen.
How'd you sneak that through the guards? Brock blinked, taking a sip as Gary offered it to him.
They didn't do a cavity search, Gary shrugged in a manner nonchalant.
Brock spit out the sip he'd taken all over Gary's already less-than-pleasant-smelling flesh. Shit Gary!
Yeah, that's how I have it now, he sighed, then began to crack up laughing. I can't believe you believed that! That was worth wasting that sip! Shit Shale, you're something else!
Gullible is the word, Brock snarled scratchily. Tell me the truth, then.
I have my pot-pouch, he grinned, rolling up a leg of his rather baggy cargos, producing a large pocket inside the ankle.
But didn't they feel it when they patted you down? Brock blinked.
Gary smiled, capping the booze and putting it back in his pocket. he offered.
Brock patted the area, and felt not much but a soft cottony pooch. Gary beamed with pride.
It's reinforced, Gary nodded. I could put a twelve gauge in there and it would feel like I was wearing sweats underneath.
You're a genius, Brock admitted. But couldn't you have sneaked some water? That stuff tastes like bubbly piss.
You'll learn to love it, Gary assured, taking it back out of the clever pocket and swigging it down.
The sun faithfully ascended above the rock, lapsing the sliver of shade into nothing and then re-scrawling it across the sand once again. There wasn't much but a bit of drinking and silence, the setting sun sadly flushing a pink tinge to Brock's clear, dark skin as he stood and turned to watch its humble descent. Gary's expression as he looked at the mournful Brock was a mix of concern and a jaded alcohol buzz, but for some reason water did trace itself across his eyes.
Brock sat back down as he tired of watching something that would hurt his eyes anyway, and he twirled his shirt between his fidgety hands.
he whispered hoarsely.
Gary whispered back, stunned that his solemn companion had spoken.
Would you kill me if I asked you to? Brock's voice trailed away on an air of serious contemplation, and more saline liquid traced Gary's eyes as he took another sip of his grog.
No Brock, he gulped hard. I would not kill you.
But I don't want to live, Brock turned away.
I told you, Gary sniffed, you shouldn't have any time to be depressed right now, you should be too starving to think of such things.
This has given me too much time to think, Brock argued, and I don't think I have anything to live for.
Gary searched for argument, his eyes growing wide, you have to get the cage back for what they did--
I've never been very religious, Brock snarled, but maybe I should let God make the final judgment. I mean, if I kill them, I'll be just as bad--
You'll end the pain they bring to other families, Gary bit back a welling excitement in his throat. You'll do more good than bad.
And then what? Brock furrowed his eyebrows. Let's say I wipe the cage out. Then what? What will I do?
Gary looked at his feet. You'll still have me, he grinned awkwardly.
You'll have something better by then, Brock assured. You have May to go home to. You can get a girlfriend. You have dreams.
Gary nodded slowly, losing the inertia of argumentativeness.
I'd get in the way, Brock closed his eyes slowly. I don't care what anyone says. I don't think anything lasts forever anymore.
Probably not, Gary shrugged.
Brock continued, more obviously holding back tears, I know now that friends won't stick with you forever either. Misty would drop me like a rock rather than just support me in what I wanted to do.
I'm not like that, Gary argued delicately. Like I said before, I haven't had a really good friend in a long time. Even a fucked up one. If you died then I'd just be alone with the cheerleaders that my grandpa pays to follow me around again.
Oak pays for them? Brock raised an eyebrow. Ash would d-- but he cut his statement short. I'd never tell anyone.
Didn't think you would, Gary confirmed while searching the desert. Now that it's cooler, maybe we should search for some kind of food.
I know a lot of indigenous edible plants, Brock nodded at his quasi-expertise, so you're in luck.
And just how do you know that? Gary chuckled.
Have you ever played Oregon Trail III?
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Ash muttered through a mouthful of food, where did Misty go?
Daisy looked away momentarily, as if deep in thought. Like, I dunno.
Mrs. Ketchum dropped her chopsticks onto her plate in surprise. She shouldn't go anywhere, it's dangerous--
Is she nuts? Ash blinked. After what happened today?
Daisy sighed, relax. She's probably just in the pool or something. She said she wasn't going far.
She'd be stupid to go any farther than that, Violet muttered, in a voice that almost seemed totally unlike her normal ditzy tones.
I know, Ash and his mother both said at once.
Dinner was silenced at that moment, and Ash almost couldn't eat as he fumbled around with the noodles on his plate. His mother would have insisted that he eat it all, especially since she had cooked it, but she understood his stress and concern of the entire situation.
Well then, Ash muttered, standing up from the table, I'm going to bed. If anyone needs me, just wait until morning.
Ash began to walk, Pikachu on his heels after quickly finishing the rest of its food.
The room Ash stayed in was sort of a guest room in the attic, and it smelled as if it hadn't been used for quite the good part of the century. It was a healthy smell, though. Ash couldn't quite explain it, but the scent of creaky wooden boards somehow reminded him that the world wasn't going to unravel at the seams. That attic had probably existed since the dawn of time and it wasn't about to go anywhere, and as long as Ash was in it, he wasn't going anywhere either.
Pikachu stretched its tiny legs and yawned as it curled up under a blanket, but Ash wasn't ready to join it in slumber just yet. He walked over to the window, its frame illuminated by a silhouette of moonlit leaves, and he opened it. A whispering breeze jumped at the chance to come in the room, and Ash let it blow his hair back. He hadn't had the sinking sensation in his skin in a long time, but it was coming back to him, more strongly than ever. He never quite understood it, but it usually was a strange indicator that nothing good was about to happen.
Ash began to become too cold, and even Pikachu shivered beneath the covers. But he couldn't quite close the window yet. He kept telling himself to do it, but continued to stare outside. Just sitting there. Not moving.
Pikachu whined, wanting Ash to close the window.
Ash stood to do so, not wanting to torture Pikachu enough to shock him. He grabbed the pane and looked outside for one last moment, and he thought he could see the outline of a large bladed creature on all fours scamper across the Waterflower lawn.
That window was closed very quickly.
Ash crawled into bed, his cold skin not yet quite able to warm up the blankets they resided beneath. He shivered and stole some warmth from Pikachu after the tiny yellow nugget snuggled close to him, but even when he had warmed up externally he couldn't shake off the chill of dread.
I'm going to get up in twenty minutes, he told himself, then go in Misty's room. If she's not there, I'm a one man search party.
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It was a good thing that the night flushed warm in the desert, and sleeping on the ground did no harm but rinse sand into one's skivies.
The noctowl rose into the thermal air, almost unhindered by the thin person dressed in black which directed it from up top. It was quite the efficient night transport, and Espiritu Nocturna was one of its favorite spies. It could hardly get off the ground with a couple of them on its back. It was almost nice to soar over the sandy plane, ignoring the many sleeping Rocket trainees scattered across the edifice. The weather was nice and the flight was smooth and easy.
Land on this rock, Griffin, Nocturna whispered into the noctowl's ear. I will walk on land from there.
The noctowl complied, landing gracefully on its uniped claws and bowing down to release its passenger. It closed its austere eyes as it was recalled into its pokéball.
Nocturna was silent as a persian while jumping from the rock onto the sand below with feet that were shoeless and covered only by the pitch black nylon-like material of the entire body suit.
Footsteps murmured only loudly enough for a Marril to hear around the desert earth, and Espiritu Nocturna's eyes scanned the moon for the light necessary to glimpse the prey. Nothing was happening as of yet, but it was bound to.
Nocturna bounded away to coil behind a boulder, waiting for the moment when it would be necessary to strike.
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Gary shouted in a whisper into Brock's upturned ear.
Brock muttered, his lips slightly parted as he was jolted awake by his partner. He glanced up at Gary and woke quickly as he noticed that Gary was sheathed in a fine layer of sweat when the night wasn't even cold.
Gary ordered, grabbing Brock's face at the chin and hair, forcing him to pay attention to the desert's should-be-silence.
What is that? Brock whispered back, his eyelids peeling back forcefully as the almost inhuman screaming could be heard in the distance.
I dunno, Gary shivered, but I hope we don't find out.
Brock nodded in agreement and clutched his pocket. I hope it's just a pair of assassins that doesn't know how to keep it professional.
Gary smacked Brock upside the head. Are you crazy? Nobody would scream like that during sex unless they were being raped by a shark!
Brock sat up, unable to handle the sound. Should we check it out? he asked, drawing some pills from his pocket.
Do I always have to make decisions here? Gary sat up and put his hands on his hips.
Brock nodded.
Gary grumbled. We'll go over there. But if it's just Lennox being raped by a shark, we'll just come back, all right?
Brock nodded.
The two boys stalked off toward the sound, but they weren't too enthused about it. Brock kaiped a sip of Gary's liquor in order to swallow his pills, and he became even more visibly frightened after doing so. He didn't want to have to fight, but as the torturous noises drew nearer, he wasn't sure he'd have a choice.
Hastily, Brock and Gary stumbled upon the cause of the pain.
Brock choked as he stumbled and fell upon something on the ground. He raised himself onto his hands laboriously, sputtering sand from his mouth as he pulled his legs off of whatever had caused him to fall. His arms were scraped up by the fine sand, and his tongue bled as spat and sat on his haunches.
he grumbled, rubbing his scraped face. What the hell was that?
Oh God, Gary gasped, stumbling backwards. Shale, don't turn around, don't look--
But those famous last words were soon followed by a muffled screech to add to unending screaming already taking place nearby.
Shut up! Gary panicked, jumping over to Brock and covering his mouth. We don't want whatever did this to find us!
Brock closed his eyes tightly, not even wanting to imagine what he'd seen, but his eyelids didn't stop the sight from being flashed through his mind.
He'd never seen anything so miserably killed in his life. Sure, the guy was Bucket's miserable partner, but he didn't think he'd even want to see his worst enemy with his eyes gouged out and blood streaming into the sand from his shriveled, gutted corpse.
Gary had turned around to throw up. Brock had to fight the urge to puke himself as he didn't want to lose the virility that would be provided on account of the pills swallowed previously. He was positive that it was a good choice to take them at that moment.
He grabbed Gary, who was in the process of shaking and wiping his mouth, and pulled the young man behind him. Gary didn't fight being dragged by the wrists behind his friend as he wasn't even coherent enough to keep his head from lolling onto Brock's back.
Hold on Gary, Brock swallowed, we're getting the hell out of here.
Gary mumbled softly, a predecessor to a sob. Brock shuddered as the few tears which slid down his bare back reminded him of their evoker.
It must have been Bucket screaming. But what the hell could have--what in the name of wienerschnitzel would have done something so disturbing?
Gary winced, let up, will ya?
Brock gulped, releasing his grip on Gary's wrists as the sound grew nearer. He wondered if it was even worth it to keep moving rather than try and burrow a hole in the ground to hide.
I wish I had a weapon, Brock grumbled.
You are a weapon, Shale, Gary nodded. But I still just want to get the hell out of here.
Brock and Gary were moving away from the damage which had taken place, trying to find safety. Brock felt bad for deciding to just screw Bucket over, but it wasn't worth getting Gary killed. If something attacked them he would fight, but he wouldn't throw Gary to his death when they might otherwise have been left alone.
Brock and Gary both broke into a run as the screaming stopped. They turned tail from the noise, and Brock just threw Gary over his shoulders since he couldn't keep up. The sand constantly threatened to trip him, but unlike the people in horror movies, Brock was determined not to fall and break his leg when his life was on the line.
I can run I can run I can-- Gary pleaded, not wanting to Brock to become tired quickly although they were going faster than they could run separately.
Shut up, Brock ordered, continuing to canter on a light-footed gait. The sand was his enemy, and he had to defeat it.
Brock stopped dead in his tracks as a shimmering figure materialized before them, pressing into life as if stepping through a wall of water. It raised its arms and clouds thickened in the air, and Brock almost fell backwards in his fear. He put Gary down and forced him to stay behind his back, shaking furiously as the creature before him threw Bucket's corpse onto the ground and seemed to smile towards Brock.
What the hell are you? Brock shouted, his breathing becoming erratic.
The creature, unknown to him, was of the same genus of the one that had previously attacked Ash and Misty. This one was slightly less incapacitated looking, as it had rather bright eyes, and looked almost like a prehistoric Mewtwo. Its arms were of the same gorilla-reminiscent length, but they were covered in spikes. Its back had a line of plates like a Stegosarus, and it was black as the night itself, covered in swirling red, almost bloody-looking shards of lightning.
It tried to say something, its voice monotonous and robotic, but neither Brock nor Gary understood what it was saying.
Brock took a couple steps back, forcing Gary to do so as well. The creature didn't move, but it used telekenesis to cause Gary to float in the air.
Gary shouted, and Brock grabbed his hands, pulling him as he rose into the air. Brock's feet were being dragged through the sand as he tried to keep Gary anchored.
Hold on! Brock shouted exasperatedly. He pulled back on Gary as hard as he could, but since the creature's strength was mental rather than physical, it soon won out, yanking Gary from Brock's palms.
Brock shouted, grabbing Gary's ankles to try to keep him grounded. But Gary was pulled away from him once again.
The thing brought Gary about three feet from it. Gary's eyes shone wide in anticipation of pain, and Brock began to run as fast as possible toward Gary, but the creature did a very good job of keeping him just out of reach.
Brock shouted, jumping and sobbing in his helplessness.
Gary shouted back, thrashing in the air, fruitlessly attempting to escape the thing's mental clutches.
Brock grabbed some rocks from the ground and began to chuck them at the creature, missing miserably. In his anger he grabbed and swallowed the rest of the pills from his pocket in the hopes that he would become quick enough to hit the stupid thing.
Gary began to scream in a manner resonant of Bucket's screaming, and Brock shouted back in rage.
I'll kill you! he shouted to the creature, throwing more rocks at it. Some of them actually began to hit, and the creature threw Gary down in its shock.
Fight me instead! Brock goaded. Try and take me out first you bastard!
The creature's anger manifested in the storm, and wind and biting droplets of ice began to hit Brock everywhere at once, cutting his skin slightly. He ignored it.
The creature swooped down next to Brock, and Brock jumped at it, grabbing it around the neck. Brock attempted to snap the neck, but he was being pelted a hundred times over with the red lightning which swirled around the creature's body. Brock attempted to ignore it and continued to try and kill the thing, and he was hoisted in the air along with it. Brock's feet began to flail on the ground, and he was soon high enough so that if he killed the creature, he would fall to his death as well.
Brock laughed in its face, shouting loudly above the crazed winds. You think that death is going to scare me?
The thing said something in its robotic tones once again, and Brock drew strength from knowing that he was sacrificing himself by destroying his enemy. He tried to twist its neck again, but wasn't quite strong enough.
Brock felt the creature tugging at his mind, but it didn't have the same effect on him as it had on Gary.
The pills, Brock thought. They keep me from being manipulated by this thing.
Brock lifted his legs in the air and began to kick at it, the lightning slicing his arms and causing searing pain to shoot beneath his skin. The weather chilling his flesh and sending pieces of ice into his wounds. Yet he still kicked, almost enticed by the blood that was released and flowed so freely onto the ground.
The creature finally realized that it needed a new strategy and began to try its hardest to shake Brock off of it. It bucked like a rodeo bull, and its red current became more fierce, ripping through Brock like scissors through paper. The wind grew more fierce. Brock held on like a piranha, but was eventually dizzied from lack of blood and plummeted to the ground.
Gary shouted, using his partner's first name for practically the first time. He stood to his shaking feet and ran to where his friend was falling, his arms open wide.
Brock shouted as loudly as he could in light of his weakness, no, let me fall--
But Gary couldn't heed the good advice, and he caught Brock's bloody figure in his thin arms. Gary fell to the ground immediately, crushed by the weight.
Brock cried, rolling off of him. Gary began to choke, and he shook as Brock put his hands on Gary's shoulders.
Get out of here, Gary pleaded, using the last of his strength to grab one of Brock's hands and grip it tightly. Please. I didn't do this so that you could die too.
Brock sniffed. You're not going to die! I'm going to fight that thing, and you're gonna get out of here!
Don't kid yourself, Gary whispered.
Brock had to release Gary's hand quickly and turn around as the creature had tried to telekenetically harm Gary once again. Brock was trembling as he stood, but he launched himself at the thing. He was nearly at its throat when it suddenly convulsed violently. Its red streaks turned white, and it was being electrocuted to death. As it plummeted into the sand, a slim figure in black could be seen behind it, retracting a whip.
Who are you? Brock asked, crawling back to Gary.
the person whispered, and Brock passed out on top of the still body of his friend.
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Giovanni's head rested in his hands as the dead pan woman gave him a report of the night's occurrences. Three men had dragged in two carcasses--one of a small blinded creature, and one of a large powerful one. He'd ordered the smaller to be burned.
That's the first time I've almost been grateful for an Espiritu, he growled, but now I have worse problems on my hands.
Shale has also become sick, the woman announced casually. His weakened immune system and the loss of blood and that storm combined has given him severe pneumonia.
Giovanni slammed his fist on his desk. Now he might die even if he doesn't commit suicide anyway. Have you found his partner's body yet?
We have not, Dead Pan looked away. The Espiritu took it.
Giovanni snarled. Shit shit shit--
We will continue to administer the drug to him, Dead Pan continued, ignoring the outburst of profanity. But I think it is in all of our best interests if you allow his friends to visit him while in the hospital.
They might learn too much, Giovanni frowned.
We're going to tell Shale that the Mistake was an agent of the cage, Dead Pan assured. He'll go along with the story that he got hurt like so while busting a crime scene in a factory. He will say that he accidentally got pushed into a machine with blades.
He looks that bad? Giovanni winced.
Dead Pan said. Worse. His mental health will deteriorate if we do not let anyone see him. We have no time to lose.
Fine then, Giovanni sat back. Whatever it takes.
We will also autopsy the large Mistake, she announced. I'm sorry you had to lose 5607. She didn't sound very sorry.
Giovanni nodded and turned off the vidphone. With only his agents to keep away the Mistakes, he couldn't afford to lose Shale at any cost.
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Ash's eyes fluttered open and he looked at his alarm clock.
he blinked. It was about two A.M. How could I have fallen asleep when I wanted to go look for Misty?
He began to cry at his selfishness, his uncaring, his--Pikachu put a tiny paw on his back for comfort. Ash smiled weakly at his pokémon and jumped up to throw on a robe.
As he reached the door, Misty opened it forcefully from the other side.
Ash was stunned. He must have heard her climb up the stairs--that must be what woke him up. But at least she was safe.
We gotta go to the hospital on Cinnabar Island, quickly! she shouted, nearly out of breath. I just got a phone call, Brock's been in an accident!
Ash's face fell, and Pikachu jumped on his shoulder. He felt knots in his stomach as he tried to respond to her.
He knew something was going to happen. Something bad. And it did.
I'll get dressed, he mumbled, leaving Misty outside the door.
But why was she dressed already?
God knew what she was doing. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting out of there to see Brock, A.S.A.P. He didn't even bother to ask what kind of accident because he knew.
A bad one.
Ash's mom was dressed as well by the time he rumbled down the stairs into the living room, the keys to her car restlessly moving in her hands.
Let's go! Misty stood up immediately as Ash entered the room.
There was such a storm that night it probably wasn't a good idea to be out, but it wasn't like they had a choice.
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Brock licked the taste of pain on his lips as consciousness touched his filleted skin. His eyes didn't open immediately, his sense of touch seemed to come back first. He moved his hand to his chest where he ran his fingers through the long hair of whoever it was that was laying there. It felt nice for a time. He relaxed, felt strangely serene despite the pain which wracked him.
Then his eyes snapped open.
His breathing became erratic, and he stopped moving entirely.
Move move, he whispered, and the sleeping girl sat up.
Misty whispered back, grabbing his hand gently, are you all right? Want me to call the nurse?
Brock began to cry, get away from me!
Misty blinked in shock as Brock pulled away from her, cowering as if in fear.
I didn't mean to be so rude to you before, Misty cried as well, forgive me, don't hate me--
I don't hate you! Brock shouted. I love you! And I love Ash too! And whoever I love DIES! So please, don't come near me!
Oh Brock, Misty choked up, and she grabbed his hand once again. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere.
Brock whimpered a little, tears still racing to his neck.
And you're not going anywhere either, Misty whispered to herself, not loud enough for Brock to hear.