Third person p.o.v.
Carl the truck driver was quite pleased with himself.
Just an hour earlier, he had managed to repair a Rennichaus Dc-12! Wait until the other drivers at Al's truck stop and bar heard about this!
The current record (according to the Al's truck stop unoffical record archives) for completely fixing a Dc-12 (and not having it break down again for a week), infamous for it's tendency to explode constantly and a status symbol for truck drivers, was 36 hours, and that was by a team of engine experts in a well-stocked mechanic's shop, and he just fixed his in under 3 minutes!
Of course, the true story was that he was staring cluelessly at the smoking remains of his engine, perplexed and fustrated, when it magically roared back to live with a hiss. Just now, as he drove down this desolate streach of road, it was humming cheerfully, functioning like a... like a... Carl struggled to find the perfect adjective, racking his brain with possiblities.
Like a giant atom bomb.
Just then, there was a loud boom as the Rennichaus exploded once again, skyrocketing volumes of smoke, oil, and some wierd purple fluid high into the stratosphere.
"NOOOOOOO!" Carl cried in anguish as the truck screeched to a halt. Just his luck this happens on the most desolate, abandoned streach of road within a 200-mile radius! He called for a tow truck on his cell phone for about 3 minutes before the line went dead from lack of reception.
Good news: a tow truck was on it's way.
Bad news: It'll take about 5 hours to get to where he was.
Just then, the truck driver had a stupendous idea! "Hmm,,," he thought to himself, rubbing his chin, " While I wait, I may as well snuggle up in one of those luxury blankets sitting in the back! Corporate won't mind! (probably because they won't find out)
Eager to carry on with this brand-new idea, he dashed to the rear of the truck with a new spurt of energy and yanked open the door. He was not expecting what he found inside, though.
"What the?!"
one of the boxes was open! Peering inside the box, Carl could make out dozens of packing peanuts, precisely 10 plushatron relaxiblanket 3000s, and a tiny Zoura curled up on top of them, peacefully dozing.
Now, most people would have found this overwhelmingly adorable. Carl, however, had a particular dislike of pokemon in general, and the fact it was getting fur all over $3000 dollar blankets wasn't helping matters. After thinking things through, the driver decided to release the Zoura into the wild and hope like heck it would be lucky.
In a manner not reccommended by most pokemon wildlife specialists, Carl lifted the slumbering pokemon off of the now hairy blankets and threw him into the forest. The pokemon tumbled down the slope bordering the road, branches breaking and twigs snapping as he fell, finally rolling off a small rock-lined ravine and into a soft pile of leaves.
Back on the road, Carl peered down the hill with a twinge of guilt and concern. Ok, maybe that wasn't the best way to dispose of a stowaway pokemon...
To his surprise, however, he could glimpse the pokemon STILL sleeping on, almost completely unharmed (at least from what he could tell), a loud snore erupting from his lips as he slept, so cute...
The small animal rights activist in him satisfied for the day, Carl settled down in the cabin with one of the blankets. He looked at his watch: 10:37 am . He groaned quietly, slouching a little. This was going to be one long wait...
William's P. O. V.
What a rotten dream I had...
I pried my eyes open a little bit... and was instantly greeted by the blinding glare of the sun beaming down directly on my face.
"GAAAAAAA!" I yelped, rapidly looking away from the death rays of the sun lest I fall blind.
It took five minutes of rapid blinking to get my eyes accoustomed to this unnatural light. I really need to tell the butler to tone down the artifical sunlight in the bedroom.
I felt really woozy, like I had just been walloped unconscious with a sledgehammer, then thrown out of a truck, then run over by said truck. My body parts didn't seem to want to work the way they should, and every part of my body ached, from my head to my...
Uh oh.
why did I feel my butt was not the furthermost point away from my body?
Why would I consider my butt to be the futhermost point in my body?
I slowly glanced around behind me, fear gnawing at my brain like a parasite.
Either their was a giant leech-like creature attached to my behind, or I've got a tail.
neither option seemed like a good one at the moment.
Finally, I had managed to convince my head to turn around to the point where I could see my rear.
There was a big, black fluffy thing protruding from it.
Umm, maybe a big, black fluffy leech?
Desperately clinging to this hope, I tried shaking it off, then pawing at it with my hands.
Except I no longer had hands.
"Yeeeaaaggghhhh!" I cried as I was suddenly looking from a dirt particle's perspective, tilted off balance by the sudden lack of support on my body. From the ground, I could now also see my arms, awkardly sprawled out in front of me.
Well, I saw two black stick-like appendages with a red splotch at the end where my arms were supposed to be. I tried moving the limb that I felt attached to me. The appendage moved too. It didn't feel natural, though, like I was using it the wrong way...
A deep sense of dread was welling up from deep inside. Shakily, I tried standing up. Just get a better view of things and work from there...
First I planned on using my arms to push myself up onto my hands and knees, then use my legs to finish the job, resulting in me standing. All that happened, though, was that the appendages splayed out in front of me flopped about pathetically.
Sighing, I finally assumed that these appendages had (somehow) become attached to me in some way, and began examining them closer to try to figure out a way to lift myself off of the pile of leaves I was resting on.
"No fingers... just ends in a wierd red-colored point... what sort of creature has-wait a minute!"
Uh oh.
My mind was sent racing with a flurry of dread and anxiety. OhnoOhnoOhnoOhno... Maybe... just maybe... that weird dream I had... wasn't a dream?
No...it's impossible! It can't be! NO!
I dashed off in a wild panic, desperate to find probably a reflective pond, stream, or anything at all, not noticing by body instinctively leaping onto all fours.
It took ten minutes of searching, but I finally found a small, bubbling stream with a tiny break in the currents smooth enough for me to glimpse myself. I immeadiately looked down, terrified at what I would see:
No. NoNoNo. NoNoNoNoNoNo!
Looking at myself in the water confirmed my worst fears. I could see a furry, black face staring back at me, characteristic red markings on the eyelids and forehead, rather embarassing tuft of red and black fur on top of my head. No. It can't be! but it was! Even I couldn't now deny the evidence:
I was a Zorua.
Also, I happened to be standing on a particularly steep and precarious riverbank.
And it just occured to me that I hadn't the slightest idea how to use my legs whatsoever.
"WAAAAAAGGGGGUUUHHH" I cried as my legs gave out, causing me to tumble into the stream with a rather embarrassing sploosh. Fortunately, it happened to be a very shallow part of a already small stream, and suddenly plunging into ice-cold water does wonders to stimulate one's instinctual knowledge of using appendages that can help one get out of this particular situation. Unfourtunately, I lost that instinct as soon as I was no longer in immeadiate danger, and collapsed once again on the pebbly soil on the smoother bank on the other side.
This time, however, I was perfectly content to just lie there and try to comprehend my current sad state.
The dream was true. I was a pokemon, Somehow. I was alone, lost somewhere in the woods, which now that I looked around, looked a whole lot bigger and spookier with the sunlight, glowing orange with the sunset, shimmered hauntingly through the dark, sinister trees.
My now cartooningly big ears could detect a pokemon scurrying off somewhere in the distance, and multiple crys of pokemon in various places, along with about 2000 other things.
Fish swimming in the creek, making the slightest rippling when they break the surface of the water.
Millions of leaves blowing in the wind.
The gurgling and bubbling of the stream as it continues on it's path to who knows where.
My ears hurt...
It was the same things with my eyes and nose. So much info pouring overwhelmingly into my brain... So much scents, sights... too much!
I shut my eyes tightly and pawed at my ears with my nub-leg-thingys, drying to drown out the waves of sounds hitting my eardrums.
"I'm going to wake up, this will all end and I can just get on with my life... this is a dream, or maybe just a very realistic video game?
"This isn't fun anymore!"
"Help me!"
Isaac's P.O.V.
"Stupid plants!"
Max crashed through the congested foilage, tearing through plant after plants, burning down with flamethrower whatever he couldn't barge through with his brute strength or outmaneuver. The yelps of Razor echoed off in the distance, growing louder as Max barreled through the forest with speed that never failed to astound me.
"I guess Razor's found the spot," I said to myself as the mightyena's cries kept growing louder and louder, indicating he was now staying put. Seconds later, Max lept out of the clustered trees into a massive clearing. I could see Razor sitting obediently, now quiet now that his master had come into view behind him. In front of him was ... oh no.
The old Huntingdale mansion.
If William had gone in there... I could kill him if he ever made it out alive.
I was on strict orders not to travel anywhere near that place... let alone let William near it. Dairus never told me why. Dairus himself used to live there until 20 years ago something happened... I don't know the details, Dairus never spoke a word about it, and I knew if I asked or inquired about it I would likely have an "accident" a few days later. All I know is he abandoned it suddenly and never returned.
If something could force Dairus himself to abandon a house that had been in the Huntingdale family for countless generations... either it was because of personal reasons or something had actually been powerful and dangerous enough to make him leave. Dairus is not usually a man who gives up easily.
I slowly walked up to the massive front doors, analyzing the situation from outside, determining whether it was safe to go in. Razor and Max were both sitting behind me, obediently waiting for orders.
"Razor, come with me. Max, wait outside," I commanded, drawing out my automatic from my holster.
Sure, the situation was obviously unsafe, the doors look like they had been blasted clean off by some unknown force, and taking in a few cautious steps, I entered what seemed like a war zone. Debris was scattered everywhere, the stairs had a giant gaping hole in them, and giant blast marks covered the walls, like somebody rapid-fired a bazooka in here, then set off a bomb.
I surveyed the blast marks on the walls, searching for clues. Razor was tentaively sniffing around, trying to pick up William's scent. There were a few that were decades old, but quite a bit of these...
I collected some of the ashes and shifted my fingers through them, the fine pitch-black sediment running through the gaps.
Yep. Just a few hours old, at most. That can't be good.
I took my phone out of my pocket, flipped it on, and set it to walkie-talkie mode.
Isaac here. Need a full DNA squad down here to scan for dna residue. Quite a bit of fine ash done here recently...
I was suddenly inturrupted by Razor's loud barking. Whipping around, I could see the mightyena in the middle of the massive foyer, poking it's head under a chunk of what appeared to be celing material before barking excitedly, wagging his tail, causing me to grin a little.
Just a little.
I walked up to the waiting pokemon and crouched down where he had been sniffing. "Didja find him, boy? Whatcha find?"
"Mighty!" he ducked back down into the crevice where he had been sniffing and pulled out a tiny piece of cloth.
Designer cloth.
Unique, special, only-one-in-the-world cloth.
Either something very bad had had happened to William, or that famous designer had been mass-producing these shirts.
Then something shiny caught my eye. A tiny metal device embedded deep into the fabric, almost invisible to the human eye. I could swear I could hear it beeping.
beep...beep...beep...
I checked my phone. Yep, this is definitely the last known location of William Huntingdale. Then, what happened?
Just as I was about to radio back to base, I could hear a voice, echoing deep within my mind.
Another one?
"What the..."
I immeadiately recognized the voice as a psychic pokemon's. But what psychic pokemon had the capability of speech...
several possiblities popped into my mind.
...likely caused the blasts on the wall, judging by their composition, size, and scope...
the possibilities narrowed.
...and can defeat a battle-trained mightyena with a type advantage?
I decided It would probably be in my favor to wait for backup.
I grabbed my phone. "I'm heading outside and waiting for backup. Send B-team. Gear up for psychic pokemon."
"Roger that, Isaac! But B-team? It's that serious?! You know B-team is reserved for top cases only-"
"Think about it. His SON is missing in a spooky, mysterious old house with almost no trace of his disappearance. You think this isn't top priority?
"Good point. Are you sure it's wise to wait, though? You know what Dairus will do if he- "
"I'm not prepared to engage in a full-type combat with a pokemon, especially if that pokemon beat William's. A pokemon of that magnitude, yes, I'd fear that over Dairus."
"Don't let Dairus hear that, you know. He'd kill you just for saying that."
I chuckled a little, walking hurridly towards the enterance. "Anyways, send that B-tea-"
I never finished my sentence, because in the next millisecond my phone was nothing more than a pile of sputtering wires held together by melted gold, an ominus purple glow surrounding it.
Yes, waiting for backup certainly would have been the better choice.
"Wha-Who-what are you? Show yourself?" I whirled around, trying to get a glimpse of my aggressor. Razor stood on edge, growling furiously. I slowly backed towards the door, then spun around and sprinted for it, only to slam into a wall of metal.
very hard metal.
"Ow..." I rubbed my head as I struggled to comprehend what happened to me. My head throbbed like heck...
Looking up, I managed to make out a large, oranate door that looked like it was teleported in from the 1900s, the same strange purple glow emenating from it. I could see a large dent in it, caused by my head imitating a rydhorn charging at full speed. Or was there two of them... I couldn't tell... I was kinda woozy...
That was... rather disappointing, actually.
Looking to the left, I could see Razor sprawled out to the side of me, completely unconscious from making the same mistake as I had, a his face imprint joining mine on the door. The two dents on the door looked like they had come out of a corny cartoon.
"That hurt..."
Feeling the lump on my head, that's probably a good-sized concussion. And Razor would definitely need to be checked into the pokemon center...
Don't worry, You won't have to feel that pain anymore... just relax...
Strange... why was that wooziness getting thicker?! Isn't it supposed to clear up?! Wait...
Relax...
A strange fog began to cloud up my vision. This isn't caused by the concussion... this is a psychic attack!
Struggling against the effects, I opened my eyes to see through a growing purple haze, a floating, bipedial catlike pokemon with an evil grin on it's face, forming something in it's forepaws, a wierd disc-shaped object...
Groggy against the mental cloudiness clogging my brain, I reached into my pocket, hoping to grab my psychic destabilizer. It can disable psychic pokemon's mental capabilities, which may give me a ...
looking for this, human? One step ahead.
"No..." The strange psychic pokemon held the psychic destabilizer in it's grip, clutching it just long enough for me to get a feeble view of it, then crushing it into a million tiny pieces with a psychic burst of energy, letting the pieces scatter onto the floor and join the already clustered mess below.
My arms and legs felt numb, although I couldn't tell if it was from injury or the pokemon's relentless mind assault on my person. Everything felt numb...
Spots swam before my eyes. Vision growing dimmer... I could just barely glimpse the pokemon finish what it was creating and float over to me... My barely functioning mind could just slightly comprehend what was in it's grasp... a round circular thingy? Like... a collar of some kind? A collar... I must be hallucinating...
There was no mistaking that evil grin on its face, though. And as my vision grew cloudier and I struggled to stay conscious, the pokemon levitated closer to me, wielding the collar in its hand - paw - thing, the collar wrapping open evilly, greedily inviting me into it's clutches. As my vision faded and I slumped to the ground, the last thing I felt was that collar wrapping itself tightly around my neck, at the same moment I felt a cold shiver down my spine and then lost all bodily feeling altogether.
Just before my mind joined my body in unconsciousness, though, one final thought rang out in my mind:
That pokemon was right.
That was extremely dissappointing.
For the first time in my life, I had failed.