** WASTELAND **
~~~ Prologue - What Once Was Home ~~~
He looks around at the wasteland that had once been his home.
His hands fist at his side and his jaw clenches with rage. They
had destroyed everything, swept through the small town, killing
randomly, without reason. Since the League Champion has
disappeared, everything has gone insane.
Dust swirls up from his feet as he shuffles across the dry
ground to the site of his boyhood home. Nothing remains of the
warm, comfortable home, not even the foundations. The back yard
he'd played in as a young child is gone too; only a yawning hole
where the earth had split.
How could anyone do this?
Something moves in the still, dust-choked air. Instinctively,
his hand flicks to the carrier belt that was no longer there.
*Shit.* Nothing is safe anymore. Not since the Rockets and the
army had come to power.
He dives to the side, rolling frantically. The lone Pidgeot
screams a challenge at him, swerving to track him, and extending
its talons to raze his unprotected head. It hesitates suddenly,
then pulls up and arrows away, back into the air.
He watches the sky incredulously, waiting for the bird to come
back, for long minutes. It does not return.
He gets slowly to his feet, brushing his clothes off and
thinking. His home was gone, his family dead. He'd been here
when it had happened, home to celebrate a victory when he'd
still been young and naive. Six years later, and it still was
hard to come back to remember.
Unintentionally, his eyes go to the hole that had exploded into
being during his celebration. Tears burn in his eyes as he
remembers the terrified screams of his best friend, the small
mouse, as it had gone spinning into the void, the sickening wet
thud as the small body had hit the bottom. His mother, lurching
around, her eyes wide in pain and shock as a laughing soldier
sprayed her with bullets.
In mindless fury, he'd unleashed the pokémon he'd carried at his
belt, his Charizard, his Wartortle, his Articuno, to exact
revenge for the deaths. The only one to return had been
Articuno, who had died shortly after, the icy head cradled in
his arms.
The army hadn't fared so well either. With its last fiery
breath, the Charizard had managed to blacken three batallions.
Wartortle had kept up a steady stream of water that had drowned
hundreds until a stray grenade caught him in his unprotected
underbelly. Articuno had created a small glacier around the
remaining men and machines before it had been shot down by the
last chopper. It had then crawled back to its master to die.
The survivors of that doomed party had melted away to nurse
their wounds and grudges. All of them were forever changed,
himself included.
Once he had lived in this town, and he had been the pride and
joy of every citizen here. Once, he had been young and
innocent. Once he had been Ash Ketchum, the up-and-coming
pokémon trainer.
Now, he is jaded, and untrusting. His innocence had been
stripped away with the decimation of Pallet Town. Now, he is
still Ash, but the name has taken on a new meaning for him. Ash
like this town. Like his life.
He turns away, swearing as he always does, year after year on
the anniversary of Pallet's destruction, that he will avenge his
mother. He will avenge Pikachu. He will avenge the small boy
who had died as surely as if they had slit his throat.
He is Ash, and his heart is colder than Articuno's last breath.
*** ***
~~~ Prologue - What Once Was Home ~~~
He looks around at the wasteland that had once been his home.
His hands fist at his side and his jaw clenches with rage. They
had destroyed everything, swept through the small town, killing
randomly, without reason. Since the League Champion has
disappeared, everything has gone insane.
Dust swirls up from his feet as he shuffles across the dry
ground to the site of his boyhood home. Nothing remains of the
warm, comfortable home, not even the foundations. The back yard
he'd played in as a young child is gone too; only a yawning hole
where the earth had split.
How could anyone do this?
Something moves in the still, dust-choked air. Instinctively,
his hand flicks to the carrier belt that was no longer there.
*Shit.* Nothing is safe anymore. Not since the Rockets and the
army had come to power.
He dives to the side, rolling frantically. The lone Pidgeot
screams a challenge at him, swerving to track him, and extending
its talons to raze his unprotected head. It hesitates suddenly,
then pulls up and arrows away, back into the air.
He watches the sky incredulously, waiting for the bird to come
back, for long minutes. It does not return.
He gets slowly to his feet, brushing his clothes off and
thinking. His home was gone, his family dead. He'd been here
when it had happened, home to celebrate a victory when he'd
still been young and naive. Six years later, and it still was
hard to come back to remember.
Unintentionally, his eyes go to the hole that had exploded into
being during his celebration. Tears burn in his eyes as he
remembers the terrified screams of his best friend, the small
mouse, as it had gone spinning into the void, the sickening wet
thud as the small body had hit the bottom. His mother, lurching
around, her eyes wide in pain and shock as a laughing soldier
sprayed her with bullets.
In mindless fury, he'd unleashed the pokémon he'd carried at his
belt, his Charizard, his Wartortle, his Articuno, to exact
revenge for the deaths. The only one to return had been
Articuno, who had died shortly after, the icy head cradled in
his arms.
The army hadn't fared so well either. With its last fiery
breath, the Charizard had managed to blacken three batallions.
Wartortle had kept up a steady stream of water that had drowned
hundreds until a stray grenade caught him in his unprotected
underbelly. Articuno had created a small glacier around the
remaining men and machines before it had been shot down by the
last chopper. It had then crawled back to its master to die.
The survivors of that doomed party had melted away to nurse
their wounds and grudges. All of them were forever changed,
himself included.
Once he had lived in this town, and he had been the pride and
joy of every citizen here. Once, he had been young and
innocent. Once he had been Ash Ketchum, the up-and-coming
pokémon trainer.
Now, he is jaded, and untrusting. His innocence had been
stripped away with the decimation of Pallet Town. Now, he is
still Ash, but the name has taken on a new meaning for him. Ash
like this town. Like his life.
He turns away, swearing as he always does, year after year on
the anniversary of Pallet's destruction, that he will avenge his
mother. He will avenge Pikachu. He will avenge the small boy
who had died as surely as if they had slit his throat.
He is Ash, and his heart is colder than Articuno's last breath.
*** ***