Soldiers Forgotten
Disclaimer: Some one owns a Pokemon? WHO? Is it a Charizard?
Authors Note: Well, here we have it. The prologue for my first "Official" ficcy! Sorry it's so short. I'll only write more if I get some feedback!
--...-- =Pokemon translated =Memory = TV He was on the edge of panic, his mind teetering between anger and fear. In the center of the room sat a lone metal chair with five silver bands, two on the armrests, two near the floor, and one at the top, an odd parody of a crown. "You can't do this to me! I...I've been loyal, please stop!" His voice was simpering. "Shut up. Loyalty isn't enough when it's paired with in competence" Another man, in black uniform, roughly pushed the other into the chair, strapping him down at the wrists and ankles. He thrashed violently, his long violet hair flying everywhere. The other smirked, then rasped, "Well James, I think your conscious needs a little down sizing. Not fit at all for a life of crime." The man in black took a razor from a pouch on his belt. Purple lochs fell to the floor. James sat still, petrified. The silver crown enclosed over his shaven head, across his temples. "Have fun James. Maybe by the time Shibi is done with you, you'll be able to call yourself a solider of the red circle proudly." The world exploded white.
The wave of disappearances has officials stumped. Although some clues have been found, the evidence is totally circumstantial. The number of trainers who have vanished has risen to 50. The only link police officers have found is the range of ages. Trainers taken all are between 14 to 20 years. Hopefully some new clue will turn up as the search continues tonight. This is Shelly Leas, with Kanto Nightly News, signing off. Misty sighed as she turned off the t.v. The news these days was getting very depressing. She leaned back into the couch, and yawned. She had been home in Cerulean for only a few weeks, and already she wished she were on the road again, with Ash and Brock. Brock. Misty eyes began to tear as she remembered why she had come home. It shouldn't of happened...Not to him. Not to them.
Everything had been perfect. She was sitting in front of the fire, Togepi in her lap, Ash snoring loudly in his sleeping bag behind her. Brock was a few miles behind them, and they were waiting for him to catch up after his visit with his family. The night was clear, and the stars were beautiful. She had smiled before she went to sleep, content as she ever had been. They awoke to the blaring of Officer Jenny's siren. The motorbike had skidded to a stop, and Jenny had asked grimly if either of them had known Brock, the former leader of Pewter City Gym. Had known. Brock disappeared the night before, and the trail of blood on the steps of his old home pointed to one thing. He was dead. After two weeks, the police officially proclaimed him so. His pokemon had been found in the forest, their pokeballs smashed. Ash took it almost as hard as Brock's father. He didn't talk much after that, and when the funeral came and went, he went back to Pallet. He gave all of his Pokemon to Professor Oak, only allowing Pikachu to stay with him. It all fell apart. No more hopes. No more dreams. No more trio.
Misty wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dark sweatshirt. "I never thought one of us would die." She sat in the silence that answered her for a moment, and then got up slowly. She walked quietly to her room. She paused momentarily at her frost-covered window. "Some Christmas."
Disclaimer: Some one owns a Pokemon? WHO? Is it a Charizard?
Authors Note: Well, here we have it. The prologue for my first "Official" ficcy! Sorry it's so short. I'll only write more if I get some feedback!
--...-- =Pokemon translated =Memory = TV He was on the edge of panic, his mind teetering between anger and fear. In the center of the room sat a lone metal chair with five silver bands, two on the armrests, two near the floor, and one at the top, an odd parody of a crown. "You can't do this to me! I...I've been loyal, please stop!" His voice was simpering. "Shut up. Loyalty isn't enough when it's paired with in competence" Another man, in black uniform, roughly pushed the other into the chair, strapping him down at the wrists and ankles. He thrashed violently, his long violet hair flying everywhere. The other smirked, then rasped, "Well James, I think your conscious needs a little down sizing. Not fit at all for a life of crime." The man in black took a razor from a pouch on his belt. Purple lochs fell to the floor. James sat still, petrified. The silver crown enclosed over his shaven head, across his temples. "Have fun James. Maybe by the time Shibi is done with you, you'll be able to call yourself a solider of the red circle proudly." The world exploded white.
The wave of disappearances has officials stumped. Although some clues have been found, the evidence is totally circumstantial. The number of trainers who have vanished has risen to 50. The only link police officers have found is the range of ages. Trainers taken all are between 14 to 20 years. Hopefully some new clue will turn up as the search continues tonight. This is Shelly Leas, with Kanto Nightly News, signing off. Misty sighed as she turned off the t.v. The news these days was getting very depressing. She leaned back into the couch, and yawned. She had been home in Cerulean for only a few weeks, and already she wished she were on the road again, with Ash and Brock. Brock. Misty eyes began to tear as she remembered why she had come home. It shouldn't of happened...Not to him. Not to them.
Everything had been perfect. She was sitting in front of the fire, Togepi in her lap, Ash snoring loudly in his sleeping bag behind her. Brock was a few miles behind them, and they were waiting for him to catch up after his visit with his family. The night was clear, and the stars were beautiful. She had smiled before she went to sleep, content as she ever had been. They awoke to the blaring of Officer Jenny's siren. The motorbike had skidded to a stop, and Jenny had asked grimly if either of them had known Brock, the former leader of Pewter City Gym. Had known. Brock disappeared the night before, and the trail of blood on the steps of his old home pointed to one thing. He was dead. After two weeks, the police officially proclaimed him so. His pokemon had been found in the forest, their pokeballs smashed. Ash took it almost as hard as Brock's father. He didn't talk much after that, and when the funeral came and went, he went back to Pallet. He gave all of his Pokemon to Professor Oak, only allowing Pikachu to stay with him. It all fell apart. No more hopes. No more dreams. No more trio.
Misty wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dark sweatshirt. "I never thought one of us would die." She sat in the silence that answered her for a moment, and then got up slowly. She walked quietly to her room. She paused momentarily at her frost-covered window. "Some Christmas."