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~ I do not own pokèmon. If I did, my friends would all laugh at me.
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CHAPTER 1: THE REVIEW
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"God. Is he dead?"
The rough orange jacket was scraped against the carpet, black blood still and thick.
"He's always been dead."
His square jaw was cracked open, dangling uselessly--another thread of blood had crusted over his lips.
"Someone really roughed him up."
The body was crumpled--delicate in a sort of holy horror. The arm was torn out of its socket, knee bent backwards.
She threw up, spewing a hot, watery mix of food and stomach. The stuff bounced forward, mingling with the blood, which was everywhere--the walls, his desk, the door.
"Sorry," she managed weakly.
Grant put a hand between her shoulders, and she lurched again. And again. She wiped her mouth, the smell still fresh.
Giovanni was dead.
===========
Giovanni squinted, resisting the urge to put up an arm and block the flood of white light. His suit itched--he hated suits. He'd gone through this routine every two years since he could walk. He was fourteen now, beyond the wailing and sniveling stage. Now he was in the thoroughly annoyed stage. He could make out blurred figures. Huge--blown out of proportion by the lights. They sat in a circle around him--trapping him on all sides.
"Who are you?"
"The son of my mother." It was a programmed response. He was familiar with the routine. They always asked the same questions.
"Whom do you belong to?"
"The people."
"Who serves the people?"
"You do."
"Who provides for the people? Who keeps order?"
"You do."
"What do you want?" It was a different voice, a little reedy with an accent Giovanni couldn't place. But he was prepared for it. Every year, they asked a new question at the end. He never answered it correctly. There was always a pregnant silence, and he was escorted out. The answers they wanted escaped him. Giovanni searched himself, and the answers fell like bricks, each bashing against his tongue--each worse then the last. What you want. What my mother wants. That wasn't the question. I want out of this suit. I want to go somewhere. I want for you to shut the lights down. I don't want anything. I want--Giovanni trembled a little.
"Power."
"You have power." They'd answered him. He'd said something right. --Or something wrong. Something very, very wrong.
"Not enough."
"What would be enough?"
Giovanni whispered his response, feeling it sting strong. "There will never be enough."
There was a familiar, painful silence. It dragged on, raking over his chest. Forever passed. Someone grabbed him roughly by the arm and led him outside.
===========
"Idiot." Mother adjusted her layered red hair, off-white sundress purer in the summer heat. Her legs were neatly folded, cool green eyes focused in the distance. She refused to meet her son's eyes.
"I tried, mum. I just--don't know what they want from me--" Giovanni smoothed his hair back nervously, then loosened his necktie.
"Leave it on."
Giovanni left the tie alone, shoving his hands in his pockets. He straightened his shoulders, eyes already taking on his grandfather's serious, steely tint. "I'm tired of them. We're always doing everything to make them happy--what about Team Rocket? --What about?"
"You're getting married."
Giovanni's fists tightened into balls, gritting his teeth. "What?" Maybe she'd change the answer.
"Married. She's a nice girl. Her parents are well-off--I already secured everything."
"How DARE.Why are you bringing this up now? Just to shut me up? I'm not a kid--How DARE you--"
Smack.
"Yes, m'am."
The day was settled.
===========
"Tell me about The World, Daddy."
Giovanni wriggled in his one-piece pajamas, toes curling.the blanket was snug against his chin.
"Before the wars--"
"Waaaaaaaars?"
"When two or more groups of people fight over something."
"Like with pokemon?"
"No--no. Like with guns. Before the wars, people lived in relative freedom.the freedom of each place was dictated by its rulers. They hurt themselves and held nasty battles. People died."
"It's not like that now."
"No. Humans aren't in charge any more."
"Who's in charge? Who, who?"
"--If you don't stop interrupting me--"
Giovanni pulled the covers up to his nose, mumbling an apology. There was a silence between the two, a sort of tension.
"People died. But one day--" Tension broken. Everything was good.
"The greater animals got together. These animals were bigger and smarter and better then all the other animals. They could talk, too--just like us. Humanity was broken. Things were bad. So the animals got together and united the world--"
"Mommy tells the story differently."
Daddy froze. "--How does mommy tell the story?"
Something was wrong. Giovanni squirmed. "She--"
Daddy used his angry quiet voice. "How does mommy--"
Giovanni began to cry.
===========
The leader of Team Rocket woke up cold. He was sweating, body slick and stuck almost grossly to the covers--he groped for his wife. For that thick knot of hair, that cool shoulder. He found her wrist, and was comforted. "Samantha," he murmured, voice strange.
"What?" There wasn't much sympathy. Giovanni didn't expect it.
"Nothing." What had he been doing? He'd had a dream. It was slipping fast. Familiar, and wrong.
"Your hand is sweaty."
"Yeah." It was. What was it? The specifics. The harder he tried to hold them, the faster they just--slipped. Slipped away. Was it a dream? Had he been dreaming? And then there was that feeling of--bad. Of wrong.
"Where's Faust?"
"You and that cat."
"Me and Faust," He reaffirmed. The wrong was worse.
Giovanni tossed the covers off--too thin and wet--stumbling into the bathroom. He clicked the light on--there was a moan from the bed. Giovanni shut the door, cutting off all but a sliver of yellow. He felt something warm brush his leg and yelled--Faust. The Persian looked at him coldly-- analytically. "Just you." The cat knew. The cat knew what he was forgetting.
"You've got that board meeting tomorrow." The voice was muffled--from outside the bathroom door.
The board meeting. Giovanni turned on the faucet, rushing water to his face. He looked in the mirror wearily. That must be it. His analysis--his meeting with The League. And all the dreams were gone, washed away, leaving only that lingering feeling.
Something was wrong.
"Is it the baby?" Giovanni asked the Persian softly. "Is that it?" No. That baby--his baby--was inside Sam's tummy, somehow safe. She was round with the baby--his baby--fat.
Faust only examined, ever cold, with those knowing, slitted eyes.
Giovanni pushed his face into a towel, disoriented and disturbed. He clicked off the light, finding his way to the bed. The sheets were just linen. The sweat wasn't as overpowering. His hand rolled over Samantha's belly, reassuringly. She cradled his hand, pitch half-asleep.
"You alright?"
"Nerves."
Giovanni's hand drifted away. Samantha was fully asleep in a minute or so-- Giovanni followed her. Sleep came too easy.
=========== =========== ===========
~Well, there's my first story's first installment. Most of the chapters won't be that long, but no promises. Also, if you fail to review, my self- esteem will plummet and I'll throw rocks at myself. Or crush my fingers, making me unable to type--because I'm an attention-mongering pig. And, since I'm obviously the best writer ON this site, the world will be at a loss and collapse into a self-loathing heap.
No lie.
Also, after many attempts at uploading, I realized that this blasted place registers ellipses (that's dot dot dot to those of you that don't pay attention in English) as periods. I'm overly fond of the things, and my work is RIDDLED with them. I'm all over this problem like a Nazi on a Jew in a wheelchair. Until it's resolved, though, I'm working hard for ALL you unnamed readers, and editing them into dashes. Just realize that they're meant to be read as ellipses.
**PS: If you want to read some great fanfiction, flip on over to AyumiH. She's a bad person. (And she has a mysterious rash)
***PPS: Kid her about it. Seriously.
****PPPS: I have nothing against wheelchairs, or the Jews that inhabit them.
~ I do not own pokèmon. If I did, my friends would all laugh at me.
=========== ===========
CHAPTER 1: THE REVIEW
=========== ===========
"God. Is he dead?"
The rough orange jacket was scraped against the carpet, black blood still and thick.
"He's always been dead."
His square jaw was cracked open, dangling uselessly--another thread of blood had crusted over his lips.
"Someone really roughed him up."
The body was crumpled--delicate in a sort of holy horror. The arm was torn out of its socket, knee bent backwards.
She threw up, spewing a hot, watery mix of food and stomach. The stuff bounced forward, mingling with the blood, which was everywhere--the walls, his desk, the door.
"Sorry," she managed weakly.
Grant put a hand between her shoulders, and she lurched again. And again. She wiped her mouth, the smell still fresh.
Giovanni was dead.
===========
Giovanni squinted, resisting the urge to put up an arm and block the flood of white light. His suit itched--he hated suits. He'd gone through this routine every two years since he could walk. He was fourteen now, beyond the wailing and sniveling stage. Now he was in the thoroughly annoyed stage. He could make out blurred figures. Huge--blown out of proportion by the lights. They sat in a circle around him--trapping him on all sides.
"Who are you?"
"The son of my mother." It was a programmed response. He was familiar with the routine. They always asked the same questions.
"Whom do you belong to?"
"The people."
"Who serves the people?"
"You do."
"Who provides for the people? Who keeps order?"
"You do."
"What do you want?" It was a different voice, a little reedy with an accent Giovanni couldn't place. But he was prepared for it. Every year, they asked a new question at the end. He never answered it correctly. There was always a pregnant silence, and he was escorted out. The answers they wanted escaped him. Giovanni searched himself, and the answers fell like bricks, each bashing against his tongue--each worse then the last. What you want. What my mother wants. That wasn't the question. I want out of this suit. I want to go somewhere. I want for you to shut the lights down. I don't want anything. I want--Giovanni trembled a little.
"Power."
"You have power." They'd answered him. He'd said something right. --Or something wrong. Something very, very wrong.
"Not enough."
"What would be enough?"
Giovanni whispered his response, feeling it sting strong. "There will never be enough."
There was a familiar, painful silence. It dragged on, raking over his chest. Forever passed. Someone grabbed him roughly by the arm and led him outside.
===========
"Idiot." Mother adjusted her layered red hair, off-white sundress purer in the summer heat. Her legs were neatly folded, cool green eyes focused in the distance. She refused to meet her son's eyes.
"I tried, mum. I just--don't know what they want from me--" Giovanni smoothed his hair back nervously, then loosened his necktie.
"Leave it on."
Giovanni left the tie alone, shoving his hands in his pockets. He straightened his shoulders, eyes already taking on his grandfather's serious, steely tint. "I'm tired of them. We're always doing everything to make them happy--what about Team Rocket? --What about?"
"You're getting married."
Giovanni's fists tightened into balls, gritting his teeth. "What?" Maybe she'd change the answer.
"Married. She's a nice girl. Her parents are well-off--I already secured everything."
"How DARE.Why are you bringing this up now? Just to shut me up? I'm not a kid--How DARE you--"
Smack.
"Yes, m'am."
The day was settled.
===========
"Tell me about The World, Daddy."
Giovanni wriggled in his one-piece pajamas, toes curling.the blanket was snug against his chin.
"Before the wars--"
"Waaaaaaaars?"
"When two or more groups of people fight over something."
"Like with pokemon?"
"No--no. Like with guns. Before the wars, people lived in relative freedom.the freedom of each place was dictated by its rulers. They hurt themselves and held nasty battles. People died."
"It's not like that now."
"No. Humans aren't in charge any more."
"Who's in charge? Who, who?"
"--If you don't stop interrupting me--"
Giovanni pulled the covers up to his nose, mumbling an apology. There was a silence between the two, a sort of tension.
"People died. But one day--" Tension broken. Everything was good.
"The greater animals got together. These animals were bigger and smarter and better then all the other animals. They could talk, too--just like us. Humanity was broken. Things were bad. So the animals got together and united the world--"
"Mommy tells the story differently."
Daddy froze. "--How does mommy tell the story?"
Something was wrong. Giovanni squirmed. "She--"
Daddy used his angry quiet voice. "How does mommy--"
Giovanni began to cry.
===========
The leader of Team Rocket woke up cold. He was sweating, body slick and stuck almost grossly to the covers--he groped for his wife. For that thick knot of hair, that cool shoulder. He found her wrist, and was comforted. "Samantha," he murmured, voice strange.
"What?" There wasn't much sympathy. Giovanni didn't expect it.
"Nothing." What had he been doing? He'd had a dream. It was slipping fast. Familiar, and wrong.
"Your hand is sweaty."
"Yeah." It was. What was it? The specifics. The harder he tried to hold them, the faster they just--slipped. Slipped away. Was it a dream? Had he been dreaming? And then there was that feeling of--bad. Of wrong.
"Where's Faust?"
"You and that cat."
"Me and Faust," He reaffirmed. The wrong was worse.
Giovanni tossed the covers off--too thin and wet--stumbling into the bathroom. He clicked the light on--there was a moan from the bed. Giovanni shut the door, cutting off all but a sliver of yellow. He felt something warm brush his leg and yelled--Faust. The Persian looked at him coldly-- analytically. "Just you." The cat knew. The cat knew what he was forgetting.
"You've got that board meeting tomorrow." The voice was muffled--from outside the bathroom door.
The board meeting. Giovanni turned on the faucet, rushing water to his face. He looked in the mirror wearily. That must be it. His analysis--his meeting with The League. And all the dreams were gone, washed away, leaving only that lingering feeling.
Something was wrong.
"Is it the baby?" Giovanni asked the Persian softly. "Is that it?" No. That baby--his baby--was inside Sam's tummy, somehow safe. She was round with the baby--his baby--fat.
Faust only examined, ever cold, with those knowing, slitted eyes.
Giovanni pushed his face into a towel, disoriented and disturbed. He clicked off the light, finding his way to the bed. The sheets were just linen. The sweat wasn't as overpowering. His hand rolled over Samantha's belly, reassuringly. She cradled his hand, pitch half-asleep.
"You alright?"
"Nerves."
Giovanni's hand drifted away. Samantha was fully asleep in a minute or so-- Giovanni followed her. Sleep came too easy.
=========== =========== ===========
~Well, there's my first story's first installment. Most of the chapters won't be that long, but no promises. Also, if you fail to review, my self- esteem will plummet and I'll throw rocks at myself. Or crush my fingers, making me unable to type--because I'm an attention-mongering pig. And, since I'm obviously the best writer ON this site, the world will be at a loss and collapse into a self-loathing heap.
No lie.
Also, after many attempts at uploading, I realized that this blasted place registers ellipses (that's dot dot dot to those of you that don't pay attention in English) as periods. I'm overly fond of the things, and my work is RIDDLED with them. I'm all over this problem like a Nazi on a Jew in a wheelchair. Until it's resolved, though, I'm working hard for ALL you unnamed readers, and editing them into dashes. Just realize that they're meant to be read as ellipses.
**PS: If you want to read some great fanfiction, flip on over to AyumiH. She's a bad person. (And she has a mysterious rash)
***PPS: Kid her about it. Seriously.
****PPPS: I have nothing against wheelchairs, or the Jews that inhabit them.