Hey guys, this your Captain speaking and giving the announcement of a new chapter for 'Rise of the Hybrids'. Thanks a bunch for the reviews and hits for the story so far. It gives me more motivation to write even better chapters for you guys and I really hope this chapter here stands the test of time and goes above and beyond for all of you. We get to see another submitted OC who happens to be the first villain outside of mine that has yet to come into the story. I've got more information on the OCs below so be sure to check that out once you finish the chapter.

Bold- TV/Radio/PA Systems/Megaphones etc.

Italics-Thoughts/Letters/Flashbacks

Michka's hair was flailing wildly as her motorcycle soared down the interstate. She had been riding down the road for hours and had made excellent time. She was now in Indiana and beginning to grow tired. Making the decision to pull off and take a rest in a motel, Michka turned on the exit and started to drive to the nearest stop about a mile away. As she drove, her mind drifted to the coordinates on the paper she stole off. If she was going to Nevada, chances are that the base would be in a remote location to keep classified projects hidden. Looking at the bright side, Nevada was practically all desert terrain and that gave her the advantage should she be compromised.

Pulling into the parking lot of the motel, she killed the engine and slung her bag over her shoulder. She pulled her goggles up and rested them on her forehead and waltzed to the entrance. As she walked to the door, her eyes caught sight of some men ogling her. Shaking her head, she continued her stride into the building. Michka strolled over to the counter and rang the bell for assistance. A man with glasses appeared and stood in front of her.

"How can I help you today?" The man asked.

"I've been traveling for hours and I need to take a rest. Can I rent out a room for a day?" Michka requested.

"I'm terribly sorry, but we're booked."

Michka bit her lip and contemplated what she should do next.

"Sex appeal it is." Michka thought.

Michka pulled off her hoodie and tied it around her waist, revealing her tank top. Sweat had built around her neck from wearing the hoodie in the hot sun. With her curves now visible, she saw the man's eyes linger for a moment and smirked.

"Hook, line and sinker." Michka thought, doing her inner victory dance.

"Are you sure there isn't anything available?" Michka asked, leaning forward on the counter.

"Well hang on dear, we may have something," the man replied, typing away at the computer.

Michka nodded and smiled as she gave a stretch. It would be good to get some sleep after the long hectic night she had. The man finished typing on the computer and pulled out a key. Michka took the key and picked up the pen to sign her name. Once it was signed, Michka handed the pen back and waited for the man to give the okay to leave.

"Alright, that should do it, Ms. Morré." The man nodded.

"Thanks hon, have a good day now." Michka replied.

Michka left the reception area and down the hall to her room. She entered her room, closed the door and dropped her stuff by the side of her bed. Her finger flipped a switch on the wall and the ceiling fan came to life and started to ventilate the room. Michka gave a sigh as she felt the comfortable breeze cool her off and she plopped down on the bed. She picked up the remote and turned on the TV and turned it to CNN. Best keep her ears open for any information on the A-Gene. It was being reported on more and more each day, so if she kept up on the intelligence of the A-Gene, the better she could send a detailed report to her boss.

Michka folded her arms behind her head and began to relax as she observed the TV. Her eyes started to droop in exhaustion and she succumbed to sleep.

"Master, are you there?" The voice asked.

"What is it with you and calling me master? I at least deserve to know your name." Dameon replied.

"I don't have a name per se. I'm more of a species. However, if you want to call me a nickname then I'm more than willing to respond to that."

"Can you be a little more specific with that answer? There are a ton of species in this world and with that you just opened a door of possibilities."

"I suppose I could help by saying that I'm a Pokémon."

"Yeah, that really narrows it down."

"I'm sensing some sarcasm in your tone master."

"Really? No shit, Sherlock."

"So you will address me as Sherlock then?"

"Okay, now you're just screwing with me."

"I can tell you're becoming aggravated, so I shall take my leave and try talking to you later."

Dameon's head snapped up and his eyes opened. He was sitting in the waiting area of the therapist's office. Everyone around him was either reading some magazine or doing some sort of method to preoccupy themselves as they sat patiently waiting their turn. As he sat there, Dameon rubbed his eyes. His hangover had lessoned over the past couple hours and was now tolerable. He thought back to the conversation he had while he was napping. The voice was definitely beginning to add to his stress. Now he was starting to wonder if he was going insane with the little voices in his head.

"You really suck at goodbyes whoever you are." Dameon thought.

A door opened and a middle-aged man with grey hair and glasses came into view. He was holding a clipboard and scrolling through the names as he tried to determine who was next. Dameon was praying that it was his turn so he could get in and get out. He was not comfortable about this decision, but if it brought Chelsea some peace of mind, then he would go through with it. The man looked up and his eyes searched his patients.

"Dameon Blackburn?" The man called.

"That's me, doc," Dameon replied, standing up.

"Ah, there you are. Let's get started then."

Dameon followed the man into the room and took a seat in front of the desk. The therapist took a seat as well and pulled out a fresh file along with some paper from his clipboard. As he was doing that, Dameon began tapping his fingers on the armrest.

"Alright, Mr. Blackburn, I'm Doctor Grant Schroeder. I understand you came here under request from your girlfriend Chelsea, correct?" Grant asked.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm pretty sure you know the reason why I'm here?" Dameon replied.

"Yes, I know your past medical record and your diagnosis of PTSD. I want you to tell me everything that you're experiencing."

"Why bother? You know the symptoms, just give me some pills and I'll be fine."

"I can't just give you the pills, Mr. Blackburn. I need to get a feel for how badly this is affecting you."

Dameon felt his anger rising as he heard that answer. This guy was going to make him spill the problems he's been facing for God knows how long. He clenched his fists and his knuckles cracked from the stress. Taking a deep breath, he began to tell him of the troubles he had and how he dealt with it. Dameon told Grant about the constant nightmares, the average amount of sleep he got in a week, the fact he was growing distant from his friends and family. He also told him about the alcohol consumption he resulted to for his coping method. After each statement, Grant would write down everything on the paper and continue to do so before telling him to continue.

"I can tell this has really affected your life, Dameon." Grant nodded.

"What was your first clue, doc? I need some pills to help me deal with this. I'm slowly losing it here and I don't know how much more of this I can take!" Dameon snapped.

"Dameon, the pills only help with your depression and stress, they don't help you deal with the disorder entirely."

"I don't give a shit! As long as it gives me some peace, that's fine with me!"

"Dameon, I need you to take a deep breath. I would give you pills right now, but what I see before me is drug seeking behavior. The last thing I want is for you to start having an addiction to this medicine. So I'm going to ask you this. What else can you tell me to convince me otherwise?"

Dameon's face was almost red with anger. He was a man of integrity and he always told the truth, no matter how bad the situation. Grant wasn't giving him the pills unless he really convinced him that he wasn't going to develop an addiction. He sighed and decided to pull out his last card. Reaching into his pocket, he found the item he was looking for and set it on the desk. Grant's eyes narrowed as he looked at the item. It was a lone 9mm round and this quickly became a red flag.

"What's that?" Grant asked.

"That's the round I've been contemplating on putting into my skull," Dameon replied, crossing his arms. "I look at it every day and think that maybe this'll be the day I blow my brains out. I don't do it though, that would be cowardly and selfish. It's very tempting though with all the crap that I've endured these past two years."

"So you carry that around with you everywhere you go?"

"No, I keep it beside my gun that's in my dresser. In a way it kind of gives me serenity knowing there's an easy way out. I don't do it because I made a promise to myself and to Chelsea that no matter how bad this became for me, I would never do it."

"I see."

Grant pulled out two temporary pills of Zoloft and placed them in front of Dameon. Dameon slumped back in his chair as he looked at the pills. He gripped the chair tightly and then glared at Grant.

"This is it? You know what, why don't you just give me a gun and a bottle of whiskey and leave the room right now?" Dameon sneered.

"Now I won't do that because I have no gun on me and I wouldn't even consider doing something that foolish." Grant replied.

"Do you still need more convincing, doc? Last night I woke up from that same dream I've had for the past two years. I went downstairs with the same routine to drink myself to sleep. On the way down there, I saw a shape take the form of a Garchomp. You know what happens when you see the thing that was a part in traumatizing you?"

"I can't say that I do, but that's why I need you to tell me."

"Look, I was a guy that knew little fear before that incident. Last night when I saw the Garchomp with my eyes, my heart rate became so jacked that it felt as though I would have a heart attack right there, yet my hand was steady as it clutched the wall and my legs felt as though they were tied to anchors. On my way over here this morning, somebody outside the office here accidently bumped into the side where I was shot. I had a fucking panic attack and threw up in the garbage bin. I can't take this anymore, doc. I just want a life of peace and to raise a family with Chelsea. My will is strong, but it can only take so much more. I'm not sure how much longer I can last."

Grant folded his hands as he absorbed Dameon's words. The man before him was definitely in terrible shape and needed treatment as soon as possible. Although he was hesitant at first, Grant was now convinced. He pulled himself to his desk and pulled out a form to write a prescription. Once he was finished he pushed it over to Dameon and leaned back in his chair. Dameon took the prescription and pocketed it. He looked at Grant with a calmer attitude and a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, doc." Dameon said.

"I apologize for not giving this to you earlier, Dameon. You have to understand that I take my job seriously and I didn't want to make a possible mistake of supplying you with something unless you truly were sincere about it." Grant answered.

"So you were testing me?"

"In a way, yes, I was testing you. Now, that paper there will give you a month's worth of pills. Follow the directions and do not stray from it. I want you to come back here two times a week this month and we can get to work at giving you sessions of treatment to help you cope with this instead of you turning to alcohol."

"Alright, Grant, I'll take you up on that."

Dameon and Grant stood up and walked over to the door. Dameon stopped and turned around to hold out his hand. Grant shook his hand and gave him a pat on the shoulder. With that, Dameon walked down the hall and out the door. He needed to get to the nearest pharmacy to start his road to recovery.

Meanwhile, back in Indiana, Michka was up after gaining a couple hours of sleep. She was sitting on her bed with a protractor, a pencil, a map and a tray that she used for room service earlier. After taking a shower she was refreshed and ready to get back to work. Looking at the grid coordinates, she found the grid square she was looking for and lined up her protractor to pinpoint the exact location of the testing lab. The coordinates lined up to a spot far north-northwest of Las Vegas. She wasn't sure what base would be out there, but her hunch was right on it being in a remote location where nothing would be. Michka looked at Terran who was leaning against the wall and staying alert for any possible disturbances. She smiled at him and packed away her supplies.

"Alright, Terran, it's time to go. We need to get a move on if we want to get to Nevada." Michka said.

"Michka, I have had some concerns regarding this base." Terran replied.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Well, my main concern is the security. You know as well as I do that we're pushing our luck with a highly classified military zone. I respect your courage, but I have to say that I'm not feeling too confident on this."

Michka zipped up her bag and walked over to Terran. She put a wrapped her arms around her oldest friend and gave him a hug.

"Terran, I know what you're saying. But we have an obligation to fulfill and we are the only ones who actually have the skill and chance to complete this mission. You know just as well as I do what happens if we fail." Michka said.

"Very well, Michka. I'll follow you wherever you go, but promise me you won't do anything too reckless when we attempt this mission." Terran nodded.

"Don't worry, I won't."

Michka pulled out her Pokeball and recalled Terran to it. He disappeared from sight as he vanished into the ball. Michka pocketed Terran's Pokeball and clipped it to her waist. She turned off the TV, picked up her bag and shut off the lights. Closing the door behind her, Michka walked back up to the reception desk. She placed the key and a wad of cash on the desk and exited the motel. The night air felt nice and cool compared to the earlier hot and humid weather. As Michka walked to her bike, she stopped dead. She had the feeling that she was being watched and she did not like it one bit. Her eyes scanned the area like a bird searching for prey and she couldn't see anything in the dark. Taking a deep breath, she kneeled down and pressed her palm to the ground. One of the advantages she had with being a Ground Type was that she could sense vibrations through the ground and identify the source it comes from.

Closing her eyes, Michka started to try and find any possible threat. Finding none, she stood up and continued her trek back to her motorcycle. She started the motorcycle and brought the kickstand up and gave one last look around the area. Once again, she found nothing in sight. She revved the bike and sped out of the parking lot and back up the road to the turnpike to the interstate.

As time went by, Michka began to grow more paranoid. She would occasionally glance back to try and spot somebody that may be following her, only to find nothing time and time again.

"Get a grip, Michka. You would've noticed something earlier." Michka told herself.

Michka glanced at the meters of her bike and saw that her fuel was running low. She cursed to herself and knew she had to lose some valuable time to refuel her transportation. The next exit was coming up and she saw that there was a gas station ahead. Wanting to make this pit stop as quick as she could, she floored it down the ramp and soared to the BP Gas Station. Coming to a stop at the pump a minute later, Michka quickly started to fill up the tank.

Michka crossed her arms as she the paranoia started to fill her mind again. It felt as though there was someone watching her, but she couldn't see anybody around, nor sense anyone. Not being able to take it anymore, Michka slowly pulled out her Glock 19 and attached a suppressor to it. She flipped the safety off and kneeled down behind her bike to try to find any form of movement again. This time, she sensed something coming from the building. She bolted up and aimed her gun in the direction she saw the movement. There was a lone Zoroark standing there glaring at her. Michka lowered her weapon in an attempt to show she meant no harm.

"I'm sorry, little guy. I'm not going to hurt you," Michka informed, relaxing her stance.

Zoroark began to run at her and leapt into the air. Michka ducked just in time to avoid the sharp claws. She raised her weapon and was about to squeeze off a shot, but felt a sharp stab in her neck. Her hand went up to her neck and she pulled out a dart. She fell to her knees and then to the ground as the sedative worked through her system. The Zoroark towered over her and looked back to the building. Michka managed to shift her head and look at the shadow of the building. A man materialized from the darkness and inserted a new clip into his pistol.

The man stood a little over six feet tall. He had messy shoulder length black hair that had a reddish tint to it. His eyes were red with slits for pupils and his skin was lightly tanned. To top it off, he had a muscular physique. He was wearing a white shirt with a high neck guard under a dark blue trench coat with the letters s and t stitched on the sleeves, black leather gloves, blue pants and light brown boots. He pulled out a stick of gum as he looked down at her and began chewing it, all the while pointing his gun at her.

"I've been looking for you, you little pest." The man said.

"Who in blue hell are you?" Michka grunted out.

"The name's Seishiro Tokugawa and you're coming with me," Seishiro replied. "Zoroark, grab her bag and bring it over to the car."

Zoroark nodded and picked up Michka's bag. He hurried over to the car just in time to see Seishiro finish binding Michka with rope. By this time, Michka was rendered unconscious from the tranquilizer and could not defend herself. Seishiro placed Michka in the trunk and shut it. He returned Zoroark to his Pokeball and climbed into the car, setting Michka's gear in the passenger seat. The car roared to life and he started to depart the gas station. Before he entered the road, he raised his gun and fired the rest of the clip at the pumps. There was a thunderous explosion as the gas station was turned into a blazing inferno. Seishiro sped off to the interstate and began his journey back to the base he was told to report to.

"Have you calmed down, master?" The voice asked.

"In a way I guess I have, but please stop calling me master. I don't even know you." Dameon replied

"And as I said earlier, you do know me. Think back, master."

"How is this going to help?"

"Just focus and let me try something."

Dameon began to empty his mind of all thought and emotion as he tried to relax. It was just like before. The voice felt as though he had known it for a long while, but he had no clue whose it was. Then this is where it got weird for Dameon. The dark nothingness was suddenly filled with multiple projections. Dameon felt as though he was watching a movie, the only difference is that his memories were the movie. The stream of memories suddenly stopped on the one memory that haunted him for the past two years. It was the memory of him being blasted off of his feet and onto the floor of the freighter. The projection continued until the Pokeball opened and revealed the Garchomp.

Garchomp turned to look at Dameon from the image and then it froze. Dameon's heart stopped dead as he fell back in shock and terror. The person he had been talking to was none other than the Garchomp that attacked him two years back. Dameon's throat was dry and he couldn't speak.

"Now do you remember me?" Garchomp asked.

"What do you want from me?" Dameon barked.

"I need your help and I'm also trying to warn you."

"What are you trying to warn me about? And what the hell makes you think I'll help you? You almost killed me!"

"Look, I have no excuse for what happened. I was summoned in a chaotic circumstance and the first instinct I had was to defend myself."

"Whatever, but what exactly is it you're trying to warn me about?"

"They're coming for you, master. They're coming… damn-it, get the hell away from me! Argh!"

Garchomp gave a cry of pain and it echoed around the area. Dameon suddenly bolted upright and the scar on his chest throbbed in pain. He clutched his torso and tried to suppress the pain that was coursing through his body. As soon as it came, the searing pain vanished. Dameon lifted his shirt up and could see the scar was more red and defined. He couldn't understand what happened, but all he knew is that whatever Garchomp got hurt with, he felt it as well.

"Son of a bitch." Dameon muttered.

He fell back on the bed and dragged his hands down his face. It had been two hours since he returned from his appointment with Dr. Schroeder and the pharmacy and he took the first pill as the bottle instructed. Dameon ended up falling asleep on the bed watching the Pokémon Battle Network and was relieved not to have the nightmare and gain some hours of sleep. A knock came from the door and Dameon looked up to see Chelsea leaning against it with a brown envelope. She gave a sweet smile to him and waltzed over to the bed.

Chelsea climbed in and rested on top of him. Dameon wrapped his arms around her back and kissed her. Chelsea broke the kiss and rested her head on his shoulder. She rested her hand on his scar and began to rub it gently.

"So how did your appointment go?" Chelsea asked.

"It was alright, I guess. I opened up to him and he gave me a prescription medication. He wants me to start visiting him two times a week while taking the depressants to try and get my treatment underway." Dameon replied.

"Well I'm glad to see that you look less gloomy and I'm glad you're going through with the treatment."

"Me too, thanks for giving me that push to go and see Dr. Schroeder."

"That's my job. I don't like watching you suffer, Dameon. I miss the old you."

"I know and that's why I'm determined to follow through with this."

Chelsea smiled and kissed him again. Her hand came into contact with the brown package that was beside them and she suddenly remembered what she wanted to show him.

"Do you remember that surprise I told you about this morning?" Chelsea asked, holding the envelope.

"Yeah, I've been waiting all day to see what it was." Dameon replied.

"Well, it's in here."

Chelsea sat up and opened the envelope and pulled out a single photo. Dameon noticed a glint in her eye and was wondering what had her so happy. He figured the answer was the photo she was holding. She handed him the photo and Dameon took it, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to focus. His eyes fell on a black and white picture of an ultrasound and his mind went blank. Chelsea was smiling broadly and some tears were welling up in her eyes.

"This is my ultrasound that I went in for today and they say that little spec right there is the penis." Chelsea informed.

"That's our kid?" Dameon asked.

"Yeah, that's our son. That's your son, Dameon."

"I'm gonna' be a daddy?"

"Yes, you're going to be a father."

A lone tear trickled down Dameon's face and for the first time in a long time, a true smile spread across his face. He looked up at Chelsea and hugged her tightly and she returned it. The two of them fell back to the bed and Dameon rested his hand on Chelsea's stomach. He lifted her shirt up just above her navel and brought his face down to it. Chelsea smiled down at Dameon and ran her hands through his hair. Dameon kissed her stomach before hugging her again. Maybe, just maybe things would start looking up for him.

Alright guys, that's the chapter, I hope you all enjoyed it. I believe this chapter was the most interesting one to write so far and I hope I did an excellent job with it. Well, on to the reason you're here, for the OCs. I'm still taking OCs and there are still a lot of types open that don't even have one yet. For those of you that have an OC in the story, please keep me informed on whether or not I'm staying in character. I've got the list below and I also have notes beside them to give updated information on whether or not it's available. So, till next time guys. Later.-CaptainPrice

OCs: In the story so far from submitters

Michka Morre- FiammaJoule (Ground type/Pokemon: Rhyperior (AKA: Terran)

Seishiro Tokugawa-Tendou Souji (Dark Type/Pokemon: Zoroark)

Story shoutouts:

"Time of Courage" by my good friend FiammaJoule: This story is becomming one of the new stories that contain people with Pokemon powers/souls. It's extremely interesting and the first chapter alone was enough to get my attention and I'm sure it will be of interest to a lot of you readers as well. The story revolves around a group of people known as S-Types that have the abilities of Pokemon and are being hunted down by the government. Michka Morre is the protagonist and it'll be great to watch her progress and grow to help lead the resistance against the government. Just updated on 8/3/2012.

Types that have been applied for that aren't my characters. I haven't made any decisions yet on who's in or not. I still need some more evil sons a bitches, so send them in.

Grass-

Fire-1

Water-

Electric-2

Flying-

Dark-6 (No more dark types are being accepted. There are too many. I'm only going to take two more of these guys from the submitted ones I received.)

Poison-

Dragon-

Bug-1

Fighting-1

Rock-

Ground-2

Steel-1

Ghost-1

Ice-1

Psychic-1

Normal-1