CHAPTER 3-THE MASSACRE, PART I
Mark hurried to school, in case Joseph followed him. "Who needs him anyway? I can get all the friends that I want!" he thought angrily. But despite all his bravado, despite all his hard talk and everything he said, and wanted to believe, the truth was, he did not believe. HE needed Joseph. Without Joseph, not only did he feel alone, with no-one to order around, but, as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Joseph cast a certain aura around him, of peace and friendliness. This, Mark needed badly, and that fact was obvious too to those around Mark everyday.
Mark stopped for a moment to look around. The street had never seemed so quiet for him without Joseph by his side. There were still cars, red ones, green ones, Porsches, Mercedes and Fords, bikes, big and small, bright and dull, and young children playing various games on the road. The birds were singing prettily, the wind attacking and tearing at the beautiful evergreens harshly, yet it still seemed so quiet. He sighed and wondered what he had just done. He needed time to think, yet now was not the time. He hurried to school.
Meanwhile, a few streets back, Joseph slowly waddled along, with, though of course he didn't know it at the time, the same thoughts in his mind. It was so noisy outside, yet at the same time so quiet, without Mark's constant ordering, talking and laughing. He needed Mark. Even though Mark did not treat him very well, and often used him for his own purposes, Mark was still his friend, although Joseph could not explain to anyone, not even himself, why. He added that thought to his suddenly growing list of things to think about, and picked up his walking pace.
Both boys arrived just in time, with Joseph running through the school gates only about thirty seconds after Mark did, entering just before the shrill sound of the bell was heard, which signaled the start of the school day and the commencement of the final exams. Joseph ran through the garden, through the hallways and arrived just as the teacher, Mrs. Janua, started the roll call, earning a disapproving, yet strange look from her knowing green eyes, but no punishment.
Author's Note: Janua would be spelt in Latin as 'Ianua', which means 'door', and that happens to be one of my favourite Latin words at the moment. :D :D
Mrs. Janua looked to the doorway and was surprised at what she saw. There stood Joseph Maros, looking as glum as a prisoner waiting to be executed. "First Mark, now Joseph too.." She thought. "Something is definitely not right at the moment." Indeed, Mark, who usually enjoyed being the centre of attention, and the class clown, was sitting alone in a corner, perhaps looking sadder than even Joseph. If the stony faces continued, she might have to talk to one of them. As events transpired, she never got the chance.
Meanwhile, another teacher, Mr. Sae, was putting up a poster with the order of battles, his long black hair flying around as a result of the wind as he was doing so. The PTS in New Bark Town was quite large as it had a lot of open space, without the many industrial buildings other cities have. Both boys went to look at the poster at the same time, which showed that Mark was to battle first on arena two, and then last on arena 1 after lunch. Also, Joseph was to battle second on arena five, and then first on arena three after lunch. Just as the two boys were about to leave to begin preparations, they noticed each other.
"I.. Well..." they both said quietly, then stopped when they realised the other was saying the same thing. An awkward silence ensued. "Not now, later" they both agreed, again in unison. It was ironic in that this was the only time they had agreed to something as equals, when they were no longer friends. And, temporarily satisfied with that, they left to prepare for their battles.
Two minutes later, in the locker room, Mark had turned back into his old self again. "Alright!" he yelled to nobody in particular. "I will win this. I will crush them! They will see how great I have become! Raichu, Charizard, Fearow. You'll battle first," he said, looking at the pokeballs, "so you'd better not mess up! Gyarados, Victreebell, Dragonite, the same goes for you. Don't let me down!" he warned, and with that, he left for his first fight.
He arrived at arena two, walking slowly and confidently. The arena, or rather all of the arenas to be more precise, was the same. They all had the basic white outline of a normal pokemon arena, with dust, no more, no less as the sole feature of the natural environment. The referee was already there with a clipboard in hand, ready to introduce both competitors.
At that time, unbeknownst to Mark, a figure perched in the trees was watching him. This figure was none other than Joseph. He still did not feel comfortable watching the battle from the sidelines as many students were, and he was not keen on doing so anytime soon, especially since him and Mark's awkward confrontation. But the result of that meeting did not fix the problem, only delayed it, and Joseph knew that well. If anything, that made it worse for Joseph, and though he didn't know it at the time, Mark too. He frowned, and decided to concentrate instead on watching the battle for the time being.
"This is a three on three pokemon battle, between Mark Witsinski and Mr. Meenic, with no time limit," announced the referee, who now had two flags, one green and the other red, with one in each hand and the clipboard now lying on the ground.
Mark looked over at Mr. Meenic's thin, tall form. Mr. Meenic had charming blond hair, much like Mark's hair, and hazelnut eyes shining with confidence, determination and an invincible flame. Mark smiled. "Ready to lose?" he asked, breathing hard in anticipation. He reached for the first pokeball on his belt, with Fearow in it, and prepared to battle.
On the other side of the arena, Mr. Meenic was smiling too. "I don't think so. I'm not here to lose, nor is it time for the young to pull me down yet! You've got a hard battle ahead of you, boy! Prepare yourself!" he replied.
"Begin!" shouted the referee, and so began the last exams.
Amidst the yelling and cheering of the crowd gathered around the arena, Mark threw his first pokeball. "Go, Raichu!" yelled Mark. From the pokeball burst bright red energy, which revealed the petite form of Raichu. Although small, everyone knew this pokemon contained a powerful electric charge, and was a formidable opponent. It let loose a cracking array of sparks from its electric sacks on its cheeks, impressing everyone, including the opponent. As well as its obvious punch, it was, compared to the average Raichu, physically impressive too.
"Ah, a Raichu hey? Well, at any rate, it looks well trained. Heh, looks like I won't beat you as easily as I thought!" he said cheerfully. "Let's rock and roll! Goooo Machoke! Show him the real meaning of strength!" he said, as he released his own pokeball. Machoke flexed its muscles as a warm- up, and roared loudly towards the heavens. Although slightly smaller than Mark, this pokemon obviously had a lot of brute strength. "I'll let you make the first move" he continued quietly. "Don't go easy on me. Now show me what you've got!" he challenged.
Mark just laughed. "Go easy on you?!" he scoffed. "When I'm done with you, you'll wish I'd gone easier! Ha! Well, as you wish. Raichu! Fill the arena with Zap Cannon attack!" he ordered. But Raichu shook its head, clearly meaning that it didn't know zap cannon. "What?! You mean Gramps never taught you zap cannon? But that's the strongest electric move! Alright then, thunder!" he cried. But again, Raichu shook its head. "You're JOKING!" shouted Mark angrily. "Gramps didn't teach you that either? Gees! Did he teach you thunderbolt then?" he asked half angrily, half cautiously, as he did not want to be embarrassed like that again. Around him, the crowd was laughing its head off, pointing and mocking him. At the affirmative nod, he yelled "Shut them up with a thunderbolt attack!" Raichu charged up the electrical energy, jumped high in the air, and filled the entire arena with a powerful electrical surge. So experienced was it from may years of battling and training, however, that not one spark ventured outside the arena, but flooded the entire arena, before Raichu ceasing the onslaught and safely landing on the ground.
The whole crowd stopped its jeering and leering, and stared. When the last of the sparks had died away, Machoke was still in the exact same position as it was at the start. Then, slowly, its body, paralyzed by the magnitude of the currents, started to sway, and sway, and sway until it toppled over. For Mr. Meenic, it seemed such a long time, as if the world had been put into slow motion. Then, for him, normal time resumed and he ran to his fainted Machoke, fighting off tears. Everyone was still silent, and the ruffling of Mr. Meenic's cloak and his blond hair flying in the wind could be heard easily as he returned Machoke to its pokeball, stood up, and quietly returned to the edge of the arena. It was a while before he felt confident enough in his voice to speak.
"Well, you've beaten my Machoke. But this battle is far from over." He said quietly. Then, remembering he was a teacher and was meant to instruct pupils, he spoke again, his voice still soft. "You really should know your pokemon's moves, Mark. That is one of the basic principles to pokemon training-know your pokemon. I would have attacked, except that I gave you my word that you would have the advantage of attacking first. Next time..." he stopped, leaving students to formulate their own ideas on what would have happened. He also remembered something which sounded peculiar to him, but, as he was caught in the moment, could not be certain of what he said. So, he decided to wait and see.
About fifty metres away, in a tree separated from the main body of trees, sat a boy, who was watching these proceedings very carefully. "So," thought Joseph sadly, "the massacre has begun." With that, he sighed, rested his head, and continued to watch that which had already begun to unfold.
"Now! Let's go, Baltoy!" he cried, throwing the pokeball. From it emerged Baltoy, who was a levitating pokemon. Baltoy was one of the newer pokemon in terms of time of discovery. It had a face like that of a home-made doll, and two arches attached to the centre of the body, which could have been imitating arms, although it only had one leg. This pokemon moved while spinning on its single leg. It's origins are unknown, although there have been various rumours, suggestions, depictions and theories of different sorts.
"I withdraw Raichu," said Mark, as the red beam of energy engulfed Raichu. "I choose Charizard!" he cried as he threw this new pokeball viscously. The gigantic, intimidating shape of Charizard began to form in front of Baltoy, and compared to it, was ridiculously large. At once it let loose a huge roar and a powerful stream of fire, which was felt by all, even those at the sidelines.
But Baltoy did not back down, or cower, or flinch. "Good job, Baltoy. Now, attack before it does. Earthquake attack!" he ordered. Baltoy stopped temporarily, gathering energy, and then suddenly rammed the ground with astonishing force, creating shockwaves that not only rocked the arena considerably and sent people flying; they were also felt all throughout New Bark Town, a magnificent effort on the part of Baltoy, especially considering its small status.
Mark had to think on his feet. "Charizard! Fly up high to avoid the shockwaves, and then release a Fire Blast!" he cried, grinning in anticipation. Charizard roared an affirmative reply and lost no time in following its master's orders. Opening its wings, it soared to great heights before starting the dive downwards. Then, when it judged it was at an appropriate distance, it charged up and then released the full fury of Charizard's fire as it released beautiful, swirling red hot flames.
Baltoy, though reasonably strong, never stood a chance. For Mr. Meenic, it was déjà vu as Baltoy stood there, stunned, before falling down. Again, he ran to the centre to help his friend. This time however, Baltoy was still hot, and the touch of its skin burned him. Baltoy also managed to open its eyes and utter a pitiful drone, before it was sucked up in the vortex of red energy which took it back to its pokeball. Again, silence, as Mr. Meenic once again started preaching, talking, for him, anyway to avoid the sorrow of losing another pokemon, while another part of him comforted him and assured him that the pokemon centre could heal his beloved pokemon.
"Well, Mark, you realise that by withdrawing your Raichu, you left yourself open to attack. Although Baltoy wasn't strong enough, other people will," he taught dully, as he himself was somewhere else, with his pokemon. With reluctance, he pulled his mind back to the present battle, for he had one more card to play. "Let's just get on with it," he said quickly. "Go Snorlax," he said, but even this was not said with any enthusiasm.
From his pokeball burst a giant figure, even larger than Charizard. It was big, fat, and sleeping! "Snorlax!" yelled Mr. Meenic. "Perhaps it was the power of that voice, or maybe it recognised it's trainer's voice, but in any case, it woke up immediately, stretched, and looked around.
"Yeah, yeah," replied Mark. "Return, Charizard! Go, Fearow!" And Fearow appeared, already flapping its great wings. It let out its cry, which only that morning had annoyed Mark immensely. But now, rather than be annoyed by it, he was happy, for now it only mad the opponent more scared.
Once again, Mr. Meenic started off the proceedings, yelling "Snorlax! Hurry! Yawn, now! And so Snorlax let loose a HUGE yawn which also, like its earlier counterpart, created shockwaves, knocking many off their feet. Mark was not one of those. At once, everyone began to feel drowsy, including Fearow. It' wings drooped a little, and its flight became more erratic.
"Fearow! Finish it quickly! Tri-attack!" He ordered. Fearow opened its long beak, and at the tip, the colours red, blue and yellow flashed briefly, red for fire, blue for ice and yellow for electricity, before combining into one magnificent colour. Exactly what colour it was, no-one could say, but it looked rather like a beautiful aurora sometimes seen near the poles. Then, that multicoloured beam, containing the powers of fire, ice and electricity, flew towards Snorlax, and making it groan, before it too succumbed to the might of the opponents like its predecessors.
"Alright!" yelled Mark happily. "Gramps.. Gramps, well, Gramps would be.. Proud," and with that comment, he returned Fearow to its pokeball. Then, clipping the pokeball to his belt, he turned and strutted back to his locker; knowing that everyone was looking at him.
"Wait!" gasped Mr. Meenic, for he was kneeling down next to where Snorlax was, breathing hard, and generally looking a mess, apparently from the sheer shock. "These. are.. Your grandfather's Pokemon?" he asked. When he saw the barely perceptible nod, he sighed, and said "No wonder... Level 60 plus pokemon.. You know that it's not honourable to this school?" he continued. At the sight of yet another nod, he whispered "You have great potential and an invincible fire in you. What you do with it. is the key," and with that, he collapsed, unconscious, probably from the shock. With one last look at poor Mr. Meenic, now helped by dozens of adults and children alike, he resumed his walk back to the lockers.
Meanwhile, the figure in the tree finally descended slowly, greatly perturbed at this last scene. Wondering what had just transpired, Joseph Maros left for his locker to begin preparations for his match.
Author's Note-The chapter that will be 'The Massacre Part II will not be the next chapter, but will be one of the next few chapters.
Mark hurried to school, in case Joseph followed him. "Who needs him anyway? I can get all the friends that I want!" he thought angrily. But despite all his bravado, despite all his hard talk and everything he said, and wanted to believe, the truth was, he did not believe. HE needed Joseph. Without Joseph, not only did he feel alone, with no-one to order around, but, as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Joseph cast a certain aura around him, of peace and friendliness. This, Mark needed badly, and that fact was obvious too to those around Mark everyday.
Mark stopped for a moment to look around. The street had never seemed so quiet for him without Joseph by his side. There were still cars, red ones, green ones, Porsches, Mercedes and Fords, bikes, big and small, bright and dull, and young children playing various games on the road. The birds were singing prettily, the wind attacking and tearing at the beautiful evergreens harshly, yet it still seemed so quiet. He sighed and wondered what he had just done. He needed time to think, yet now was not the time. He hurried to school.
Meanwhile, a few streets back, Joseph slowly waddled along, with, though of course he didn't know it at the time, the same thoughts in his mind. It was so noisy outside, yet at the same time so quiet, without Mark's constant ordering, talking and laughing. He needed Mark. Even though Mark did not treat him very well, and often used him for his own purposes, Mark was still his friend, although Joseph could not explain to anyone, not even himself, why. He added that thought to his suddenly growing list of things to think about, and picked up his walking pace.
Both boys arrived just in time, with Joseph running through the school gates only about thirty seconds after Mark did, entering just before the shrill sound of the bell was heard, which signaled the start of the school day and the commencement of the final exams. Joseph ran through the garden, through the hallways and arrived just as the teacher, Mrs. Janua, started the roll call, earning a disapproving, yet strange look from her knowing green eyes, but no punishment.
Author's Note: Janua would be spelt in Latin as 'Ianua', which means 'door', and that happens to be one of my favourite Latin words at the moment. :D :D
Mrs. Janua looked to the doorway and was surprised at what she saw. There stood Joseph Maros, looking as glum as a prisoner waiting to be executed. "First Mark, now Joseph too.." She thought. "Something is definitely not right at the moment." Indeed, Mark, who usually enjoyed being the centre of attention, and the class clown, was sitting alone in a corner, perhaps looking sadder than even Joseph. If the stony faces continued, she might have to talk to one of them. As events transpired, she never got the chance.
Meanwhile, another teacher, Mr. Sae, was putting up a poster with the order of battles, his long black hair flying around as a result of the wind as he was doing so. The PTS in New Bark Town was quite large as it had a lot of open space, without the many industrial buildings other cities have. Both boys went to look at the poster at the same time, which showed that Mark was to battle first on arena two, and then last on arena 1 after lunch. Also, Joseph was to battle second on arena five, and then first on arena three after lunch. Just as the two boys were about to leave to begin preparations, they noticed each other.
"I.. Well..." they both said quietly, then stopped when they realised the other was saying the same thing. An awkward silence ensued. "Not now, later" they both agreed, again in unison. It was ironic in that this was the only time they had agreed to something as equals, when they were no longer friends. And, temporarily satisfied with that, they left to prepare for their battles.
Two minutes later, in the locker room, Mark had turned back into his old self again. "Alright!" he yelled to nobody in particular. "I will win this. I will crush them! They will see how great I have become! Raichu, Charizard, Fearow. You'll battle first," he said, looking at the pokeballs, "so you'd better not mess up! Gyarados, Victreebell, Dragonite, the same goes for you. Don't let me down!" he warned, and with that, he left for his first fight.
He arrived at arena two, walking slowly and confidently. The arena, or rather all of the arenas to be more precise, was the same. They all had the basic white outline of a normal pokemon arena, with dust, no more, no less as the sole feature of the natural environment. The referee was already there with a clipboard in hand, ready to introduce both competitors.
At that time, unbeknownst to Mark, a figure perched in the trees was watching him. This figure was none other than Joseph. He still did not feel comfortable watching the battle from the sidelines as many students were, and he was not keen on doing so anytime soon, especially since him and Mark's awkward confrontation. But the result of that meeting did not fix the problem, only delayed it, and Joseph knew that well. If anything, that made it worse for Joseph, and though he didn't know it at the time, Mark too. He frowned, and decided to concentrate instead on watching the battle for the time being.
"This is a three on three pokemon battle, between Mark Witsinski and Mr. Meenic, with no time limit," announced the referee, who now had two flags, one green and the other red, with one in each hand and the clipboard now lying on the ground.
Mark looked over at Mr. Meenic's thin, tall form. Mr. Meenic had charming blond hair, much like Mark's hair, and hazelnut eyes shining with confidence, determination and an invincible flame. Mark smiled. "Ready to lose?" he asked, breathing hard in anticipation. He reached for the first pokeball on his belt, with Fearow in it, and prepared to battle.
On the other side of the arena, Mr. Meenic was smiling too. "I don't think so. I'm not here to lose, nor is it time for the young to pull me down yet! You've got a hard battle ahead of you, boy! Prepare yourself!" he replied.
"Begin!" shouted the referee, and so began the last exams.
Amidst the yelling and cheering of the crowd gathered around the arena, Mark threw his first pokeball. "Go, Raichu!" yelled Mark. From the pokeball burst bright red energy, which revealed the petite form of Raichu. Although small, everyone knew this pokemon contained a powerful electric charge, and was a formidable opponent. It let loose a cracking array of sparks from its electric sacks on its cheeks, impressing everyone, including the opponent. As well as its obvious punch, it was, compared to the average Raichu, physically impressive too.
"Ah, a Raichu hey? Well, at any rate, it looks well trained. Heh, looks like I won't beat you as easily as I thought!" he said cheerfully. "Let's rock and roll! Goooo Machoke! Show him the real meaning of strength!" he said, as he released his own pokeball. Machoke flexed its muscles as a warm- up, and roared loudly towards the heavens. Although slightly smaller than Mark, this pokemon obviously had a lot of brute strength. "I'll let you make the first move" he continued quietly. "Don't go easy on me. Now show me what you've got!" he challenged.
Mark just laughed. "Go easy on you?!" he scoffed. "When I'm done with you, you'll wish I'd gone easier! Ha! Well, as you wish. Raichu! Fill the arena with Zap Cannon attack!" he ordered. But Raichu shook its head, clearly meaning that it didn't know zap cannon. "What?! You mean Gramps never taught you zap cannon? But that's the strongest electric move! Alright then, thunder!" he cried. But again, Raichu shook its head. "You're JOKING!" shouted Mark angrily. "Gramps didn't teach you that either? Gees! Did he teach you thunderbolt then?" he asked half angrily, half cautiously, as he did not want to be embarrassed like that again. Around him, the crowd was laughing its head off, pointing and mocking him. At the affirmative nod, he yelled "Shut them up with a thunderbolt attack!" Raichu charged up the electrical energy, jumped high in the air, and filled the entire arena with a powerful electrical surge. So experienced was it from may years of battling and training, however, that not one spark ventured outside the arena, but flooded the entire arena, before Raichu ceasing the onslaught and safely landing on the ground.
The whole crowd stopped its jeering and leering, and stared. When the last of the sparks had died away, Machoke was still in the exact same position as it was at the start. Then, slowly, its body, paralyzed by the magnitude of the currents, started to sway, and sway, and sway until it toppled over. For Mr. Meenic, it seemed such a long time, as if the world had been put into slow motion. Then, for him, normal time resumed and he ran to his fainted Machoke, fighting off tears. Everyone was still silent, and the ruffling of Mr. Meenic's cloak and his blond hair flying in the wind could be heard easily as he returned Machoke to its pokeball, stood up, and quietly returned to the edge of the arena. It was a while before he felt confident enough in his voice to speak.
"Well, you've beaten my Machoke. But this battle is far from over." He said quietly. Then, remembering he was a teacher and was meant to instruct pupils, he spoke again, his voice still soft. "You really should know your pokemon's moves, Mark. That is one of the basic principles to pokemon training-know your pokemon. I would have attacked, except that I gave you my word that you would have the advantage of attacking first. Next time..." he stopped, leaving students to formulate their own ideas on what would have happened. He also remembered something which sounded peculiar to him, but, as he was caught in the moment, could not be certain of what he said. So, he decided to wait and see.
About fifty metres away, in a tree separated from the main body of trees, sat a boy, who was watching these proceedings very carefully. "So," thought Joseph sadly, "the massacre has begun." With that, he sighed, rested his head, and continued to watch that which had already begun to unfold.
"Now! Let's go, Baltoy!" he cried, throwing the pokeball. From it emerged Baltoy, who was a levitating pokemon. Baltoy was one of the newer pokemon in terms of time of discovery. It had a face like that of a home-made doll, and two arches attached to the centre of the body, which could have been imitating arms, although it only had one leg. This pokemon moved while spinning on its single leg. It's origins are unknown, although there have been various rumours, suggestions, depictions and theories of different sorts.
"I withdraw Raichu," said Mark, as the red beam of energy engulfed Raichu. "I choose Charizard!" he cried as he threw this new pokeball viscously. The gigantic, intimidating shape of Charizard began to form in front of Baltoy, and compared to it, was ridiculously large. At once it let loose a huge roar and a powerful stream of fire, which was felt by all, even those at the sidelines.
But Baltoy did not back down, or cower, or flinch. "Good job, Baltoy. Now, attack before it does. Earthquake attack!" he ordered. Baltoy stopped temporarily, gathering energy, and then suddenly rammed the ground with astonishing force, creating shockwaves that not only rocked the arena considerably and sent people flying; they were also felt all throughout New Bark Town, a magnificent effort on the part of Baltoy, especially considering its small status.
Mark had to think on his feet. "Charizard! Fly up high to avoid the shockwaves, and then release a Fire Blast!" he cried, grinning in anticipation. Charizard roared an affirmative reply and lost no time in following its master's orders. Opening its wings, it soared to great heights before starting the dive downwards. Then, when it judged it was at an appropriate distance, it charged up and then released the full fury of Charizard's fire as it released beautiful, swirling red hot flames.
Baltoy, though reasonably strong, never stood a chance. For Mr. Meenic, it was déjà vu as Baltoy stood there, stunned, before falling down. Again, he ran to the centre to help his friend. This time however, Baltoy was still hot, and the touch of its skin burned him. Baltoy also managed to open its eyes and utter a pitiful drone, before it was sucked up in the vortex of red energy which took it back to its pokeball. Again, silence, as Mr. Meenic once again started preaching, talking, for him, anyway to avoid the sorrow of losing another pokemon, while another part of him comforted him and assured him that the pokemon centre could heal his beloved pokemon.
"Well, Mark, you realise that by withdrawing your Raichu, you left yourself open to attack. Although Baltoy wasn't strong enough, other people will," he taught dully, as he himself was somewhere else, with his pokemon. With reluctance, he pulled his mind back to the present battle, for he had one more card to play. "Let's just get on with it," he said quickly. "Go Snorlax," he said, but even this was not said with any enthusiasm.
From his pokeball burst a giant figure, even larger than Charizard. It was big, fat, and sleeping! "Snorlax!" yelled Mr. Meenic. "Perhaps it was the power of that voice, or maybe it recognised it's trainer's voice, but in any case, it woke up immediately, stretched, and looked around.
"Yeah, yeah," replied Mark. "Return, Charizard! Go, Fearow!" And Fearow appeared, already flapping its great wings. It let out its cry, which only that morning had annoyed Mark immensely. But now, rather than be annoyed by it, he was happy, for now it only mad the opponent more scared.
Once again, Mr. Meenic started off the proceedings, yelling "Snorlax! Hurry! Yawn, now! And so Snorlax let loose a HUGE yawn which also, like its earlier counterpart, created shockwaves, knocking many off their feet. Mark was not one of those. At once, everyone began to feel drowsy, including Fearow. It' wings drooped a little, and its flight became more erratic.
"Fearow! Finish it quickly! Tri-attack!" He ordered. Fearow opened its long beak, and at the tip, the colours red, blue and yellow flashed briefly, red for fire, blue for ice and yellow for electricity, before combining into one magnificent colour. Exactly what colour it was, no-one could say, but it looked rather like a beautiful aurora sometimes seen near the poles. Then, that multicoloured beam, containing the powers of fire, ice and electricity, flew towards Snorlax, and making it groan, before it too succumbed to the might of the opponents like its predecessors.
"Alright!" yelled Mark happily. "Gramps.. Gramps, well, Gramps would be.. Proud," and with that comment, he returned Fearow to its pokeball. Then, clipping the pokeball to his belt, he turned and strutted back to his locker; knowing that everyone was looking at him.
"Wait!" gasped Mr. Meenic, for he was kneeling down next to where Snorlax was, breathing hard, and generally looking a mess, apparently from the sheer shock. "These. are.. Your grandfather's Pokemon?" he asked. When he saw the barely perceptible nod, he sighed, and said "No wonder... Level 60 plus pokemon.. You know that it's not honourable to this school?" he continued. At the sight of yet another nod, he whispered "You have great potential and an invincible fire in you. What you do with it. is the key," and with that, he collapsed, unconscious, probably from the shock. With one last look at poor Mr. Meenic, now helped by dozens of adults and children alike, he resumed his walk back to the lockers.
Meanwhile, the figure in the tree finally descended slowly, greatly perturbed at this last scene. Wondering what had just transpired, Joseph Maros left for his locker to begin preparations for his match.
Author's Note-The chapter that will be 'The Massacre Part II will not be the next chapter, but will be one of the next few chapters.