CWCollateral: A Tale of the Resistance

by Manajerkop

Chapter 3: Downward Spiral

Outgoing Message Intercept (Jerk class) – File PVCC6709, dated 10/21/2003
True and original content has been altered to comply with Mayor Chandler's request.

Dear Tanya,

It's gone to hell. Everything's gone to hell. First that son of a bitch Chandler gets re-elected (big surprise there), then these Combo freaks show up, and now we're being evicted out of the suburbs to make way for a whole new bunch of chus that literally just showed up out of nowhere overnight. This is the last email I'm going to be able to send for a while…I don't know how long it'll be before I can get to another computer without being tracked. They know I was part of the recall campaign against Chandler…can't go anywhere without some damn chus watching my house or going through my mail. Don't reply to this, by the way. You're safe where you are – I don't want them using you as leverage. DO NOT TRY TO CONTACT ME.

Damn, I must sound like some crazy homeless guy now. I'm sorry for rambling on like this. Let me start from the beginning. After these two Electric Hedgehog Pokémon showed up in the 1998 Shopping Center attack, Chandler went nuts. He started claiming that he invented Sonichu and Rosechu, and anyone who tried to tell him otherwise got labeled as an enemy of CWCville. I know he's got an enemies list, and I'm probably on it right now.

Problem was, he'd fired all the security staff responsible for maintaining order in the Shopping Center. One cop, - some poor kid straight out of high school - was badly injured after the attack, and the moron still fired him. No medical, no severance, nothing. Out on the street with all of his mall cop buddies. Makes me want to strangle that fat fuck with razor wire. I couldn't even protest at the riots – he sent in that yellow bastard Sonichu to break up the crowd…probably at least ten people dead before they scattered. The city's crying for blood, but there's no one left to see justice carried out. Then, of course, there are the rumors of "straight camps" on the city outskirts…I've never seen one, but judging by the things I've heard, I don't think I want to.

Once all the cops were fired, Chandler started replacing them with more and more generic Electric Hedgehog Pokémon (we call them "chus" for short) that he apparently manufactured for his own private army. Top that off with the five thousand or so mercenaries he hired to replace the CWCville police department, and we're looking at a full-scale military takeover. Outsiders can enter, but no citizens can leave…once you decide to live here, you're trapped for life. I've been communicating with some sympathetic organizations…there just might be a way for me to leave this place. Tell everyone that I'm okay, and above all, don't worry. I promised I'd get out. I just don't know when that'll be. Take care of Mom and Dad.

I love you, sis.

- Steve

January 12, 2004, CWCville slums, Soup Hotel #4

The city of CWCville, a vibrant community with happy people, cool chicks, business, and a frustrated male…

CRASH!

"Watch where yer goin, ya moron!" growled Frank as an intoxicated hobo burst through the cafeteria door and staggered into the soup line with all the grace of Christian Weston Chandler trying to dance Swan Lake. "Goddamn inebriates'r gonna kill us all 'fore too long. Move it up! Move it up! Keep 'er goin', we're dyin' back here!"

"You'll get your turn as always, Mr. Douglas," one of the nearby volunteers assured him patiently. "Now please, stop yelling and wait your turn like everyone else."

Frank let out a frustrated sigh. "Always takin' too long, them old folks in the front. Least they get firs' dibs every day. Won't be long 'fore I'm up there holdin' up the line for the likes of you, kid." He turned to the young homeless man behind him and cracked a near-toothless grin. "No 'ard feelins, but a man's gotta eat. I ain't gonna pass it up."

Kevin Shaw nodded silently. He could hardly hear the old hobo over the loud chatter and din of the cafeteria, and anyway, all he wanted at the moment was a bowl of clam chowder and a few hours rest. After a whole day of listening to Frank's various stories while they sorted through dumpsters for salvage, he was more than ready to just go to sleep and try to forget he had ever had a life outside of CWCville's fourth soup hotel.

Six years had passed since that hot summer day in August 1998, and in that period, Kevin's life had fallen on hard times. The drive to CWCville General Hospital and the first few days of recovery hadn't been so bad – it was the aftermath that had wrecked him. At first, Matt and Billy and Laurie had stopped in every day to let him know how the protests were going. Kel came by as often as she could, and brought him all kinds of gifts: flowers, candy, Brunswick stew…

What a sweet kid, he thought, licking his lips at the memory. Just the thought of a hot steaming bowl of her delicious homemade soup brought a flood of saliva to his mouth. There was never any Brunswick stew in the cafeteria…only clam chowder, cheddar and broccoli, beef stew, chicken and dumpling, tomato…but never his coveted Brunswick.

The next few days had been far more disappointing in terms of hospital visits, and Kevin began to feel the first bitter claws of loneliness tightening around his chest. The glass had cut deep into his palms, dealing a sizeable amount of nerve and muscle damage. The doctors and surgeons said it would take a good three weeks for the hands to heal, and two more after that for a full recovery. As the days crawled by, Kevin had slowly descended into a stir-crazed state, often staring at the clock for hours, waiting for visitors who might not come at all.

Finally, ten days in, Laurie arrived. Her face was worn and haggard, with bruises scattered all across the right side as if she had been a victim of some serious domestic abuse. Without a word, the former mall cop collapsed into the chair beside his bed and looked at him for nearly five minutes before speaking the words that ended his life then and there.

"We lost, Kevin. I'm sorry. We all fought for you…for us…but we lost." Her voice was choked with sobs. "Billy…they took Billy away after the last protest three days ago. We…we still haven't heard from him. It's all over, Kevin. I'm so…I'm so sorry." She stood up and left in a hurry, wiping her eyes on her jacket sleeve.

Kevin never saw her again.

Two days later, he'd received a very unexpected visitor. The girl from the Burger King, Allie, showed up while he was sleeping. She'd left him a get well card and a bag of delicious hot cheeseburgers…with pickles! Courtesy, your old pal Mitch, read a second card inside the bag. P.S. Our plan worked – Mayor ate one! Should've seen his face! Laughed my ass off for hours.

Allie's card was somewhat longer, but no less encouraging.

Kevin, I'm so sorry about your hands. I hope they get better soon, and that everything works out with your job. My manager gave me the day off, so I decided to visit you and see how you were doing. There aren't any mall cops at the Shopping Center anymore, and I'm getting scared. Stores are being looted at night, but the Mayor says we need to stop bothering him and take care of our own merchandise. See, this is why we need people like you! Your friend Matt keeps telling me they're trying to pool some money to pay your hospital bill, so I put in my whole salary from last week. Hope it's enough! Anyway, once you get out, let's go celebrate! Dinner's on me.

Get well soon!

-Allie

It hadn't been enough. It hadn't even been close. Due to the mayor's new financial policies after Sonichu had taken the position of his second-in-command, medical costs shot through the roof. Many patients were turned away before they could even finish recovering. Three days before Kevin was scheduled to leave the hospital, they came to throw him out. They didn't even cut the bandages off his arms or give him back his belongings. When Matt picked him up in front of the hospital, he had nothing more than a paper gown, the bandages, and a pair of boxers he'd fished out of a laundry basket. Matt drove him home, let him pick out a new set of clothes that fit, and tried to help Kevin find a new occupation.

In CWCville's sad economic state, finding a job was about as easy as trying to thread a sewing needle with two-inch-thick steel cable. Yet somehow, Mayor Chandler persisted in his belief that it was all because of "all tha lazy people an' tha homos" that the city's economy was failing. Within months, he'd instituted a new passive-aggressive reeducation program that portrayed homosexuals (mostly men) as lazy, parasitic slobs who lived off of the blood and sweat (mostly sweat) of hard-working, HONEST people, like himself (mostly himself). Kevin was legitimately surprised when Matt confessed to him that he knew Laurie was a closet lesbian, and that he had a pretty good idea where she'd disappeared to. Kevin hadn't slept at all that night, and later suffered repeat nightmares of Laurie being tortured in some faraway prison camp.

Years passed. Kevin spent the first few working in various fast food restaurants and stores, interspersed with some truly unpleasant temp jobs. Most of the regular businesses he managed to apply for would keep laying off employees every couple of weeks to avoid the ridiculous new taxes Chandler had imposed on them to fund his new obsession. In fact, if the mayor's financial records were ever analyzed in depth, it would show that by 2004, almost ninety percent of the city expenditures could be traced back to Sonichu and Rosechu-related matters.

At first, the Electric Hedgehog Pokémon had been a mere curiosity of the mayor's, but after five new creatures showed up one day, his interest had spiked to near-obsessive levels. The Chaotic Combo was forged from the telekinetic Magi-Chan Sonichu, the survivalist Wild Sonichu, the devout Angelica Rosechu, the pugilistic Punchy Sonichu, and the completely useless Bubbles Rosechu. This powerful and almost omnipotent team was quickly converted into Chandler's personal advisory council, and soon his anti-homosexual efforts had doubled, thanks largely to Magi-Chan and his ability to read minds at a distance.

Furthermore, rumors kept flying of new Electric Hedgehog Pokémon appearing everywhere. There seemed to be no end to the creatures, wherever they were coming from. So far, Kevin had never seen a baby or egg version of one, but he was almost certain Chandler was trying to find a way to make them reproduce. The true and original Sonichu and Rosechu had been set up in a nice two-story house in the suburban district between downtown CWCville and the Shopping Center. Being Chandler's ultimate pride and joy, the couple, of course, lived tax-free - all their expenses were paid for out of the city coffers.

It wasn't long before dozens, then hundreds of the "chus" as they came to be called, surfaced from out of nowhere to further plague the human population of CWCville. An intensive study published by Professor Oak classified them as two entirely new Pokémon species formerly unknown to science – one all-male (Navitaricius sonichu) and one all-female (Navitaricius rosechu), both of which were perfectly adapted to breed with each other. The mayor immediately granted his creatures additional rights, legal protection, and even top priority at restaurants, bars, and public facilities. Many long-standing small businesses had to close to make way for chu-only housing and other amenities built specifically for the new master race. Soon, another large group of human families in the suburbs would be relocated to the inner city to allow a fresh wave of chus all the comforts of home.

If anyone wished to complain, they were more than welcome to take matters up with Mayor Chandler or leave a message with his receptionist Allison Amber, a former Hollywood actress turned glorified secretary. Of course, they would first have to get through the mayor's newly-rebuilt security network. Below Chandler was Sonichu, below Sonichu was the Chaotic Combo, below the Chaotic Combo were the EHPF (Electric Hedgehog Police Force, nicknamed "Sparkers" by the humans), below the EHPF was a whole army of Chandler's hired mercenaries, and below all of these were the oppressed and helpless masses of people who wished for nothing more than an end to the madness that had gripped their lives for six years.

Well, three years, actually. Around mid-2000, a small unexplained anomaly had appeared in the fabric of time and reality, causing everyone's aging process to grind to a halt. Babies could still be born, but never developed or started maturing until three years later, when the time rift finally dissipated. In the end, the anomaly was never explained or even researched. Chandler would keep avoiding the fairly logical questions concerning it, perhaps hoping no one would notice if he ignored them long enough.

Kevin had witnessed it all. He was caught in a landslide with no escape from Chandler's reality…trapped inside a rapidly degenerating hellhole of a city…dragged down with all the other innocents who had been forced to sacrifice their freedoms to feed their mayor's egomaniacal dream. A year ago, he had quit looking for new jobs and checked into one of the ten rapidly-filling soup hotels. He had now completed his journey…from potential Pokémon trainer to mall cop to temp worker to hobo salvager. What a life. What an adventure. What a way to end it all. Six years in CWCville, and he'd been reduced to scrounging in garbage bins and dumpsters with the likes of Frank, George, Carl, Missy June, and many other colorful characters who called Soup Hotel #4 their home.

And Kevin still hadn't heard a word from Allie since she'd left him that card.

"…an' then I told that sumbitch, I told 'im, 'No, I ain't got your damn burrito,' so 'e just up and socked me right in the eye…" Frank stopped and glanced back at him. "Hey. You all right, kid?"

Kevin noticed that he'd somehow reached the front of the line in the span of his flashback.

"Yeah…just tired," he grunted, and held out his hand for a bowl of soup.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Shaw!" The volunteer working behind the counter – a pretty girl with reddish-brown hair - flashed him a smile. "How's your day going so far?"

"Fine, Kacey," replied Kevin. "Any clam chowder left?"

Kacey's face turned sympathetic. "Ooh, sorry, we just ran out about two minutes ago. You gotta get here fast these days, otherwise…" She shrugged. "Chicken and dumpling, maybe?"

"Yeah, that's good." Kevin took a deep breath, savoring the rich aromas of meat and garlic as Kacey filled up a bowl and passed it to him. "How'd your date go yesterday?"

"Oh my God, Chris was fantastic! We went to see Return of the King again and he took me out to this Indian restaurant afterward, and then…" Kacey giggled. "Well, you can probably guess what happened then, but it was fuckin' awesome!"

"And awesome fuggin' too, I bet," wheezed Frank. "Let's disappear, kid. Yer 'oldin' up the line."

Kevin hurried after his friend, much to the relief of every hobo behind him. The two men left through a side door to the alleyway outside. Frank was adamant about eating where "the Sparkies" couldn't smell his thoughts. From the many, many stories he'd told, Kevin had managed to piece together bits and pieces of Frank's previous life as a factory worker for CWC Orange Soda, a cheap localized knock-off of the popular Fanta orange drink. Apparently he'd been fired because he'd dared to ask why Mayor Chandler was buying up vast quantities of the drink faster than any normal human being could drink them. Kevin didn't really believe all of it, though. It sounded like Frank had just been laid off and couldn't find a dignified excuse.

Up the alley near the street, a few bums were busy panhandling. One in particular, a man with scraggly black hair and a striped wool hat, seemed more eager than the others.

"CHANGE! YA GOT CHANGE? Aw, come on, help a guy out, will ya? Come on, change!"

"Give it up Chester, ya moron!" Frank yelled to the capering bum. "Hey kid, y'ever wonder what that there purply chu…Maggie-Chan…what's 'e do all day? Just sit 'round 'n play his little Spot the Faggot game?"

"I don't know…frankly, I don't care." Kevin took a sip from his bowl. The soup was still far too hot to eat. He blew across the surface, hoping to cool it more quickly.

Frank chuckled. "Ya sound like the Mayor. This whole fuggin' city's gone to 'ell 'cause of 'im, an' we're the ones who 'ave ta pay the bills. Well, not us, we 'ad our turn, we did. Those poor souls…they're just clingin' on to a sinkin' boat."

"Yeah, I get it. Life fucking sucks."

The two hobos sat down to eat with their backs to the alley wall. Nearby, another homeless man sat with a worn-out guitar, singing some old folk song as he plucked a few chords. Kevin and Frank ate in silence, enjoying the soft, sad melody. It was a welcome relief after so many days of being subjected to so many of Chandler's Top 10 Favorites on KCWC…as well as the voice of that purple-blue fuckpump Jamsta Sonichu. All of the hobos in every single soup hotel were pretty much forced to listen to the chu DJ's half-intelligible ramblings as some sort of nightmarish wake-up call. Nearly half the homeless population of CWCville wanted him dead, and the other half wanted to burn down his studio, rip out his vocal cords, and then kill him.

The soup was pretty damn tasty, but one bowl barely qualified as a meal. Nevertheless, Kevin inhaled his entire bowl before Frank had even finished a third of his.

"Ya gotta learn ta savor it," the old man scolded, dealing him a sharp tap on the hand with his spoon. "Enjoy it now…way things're goin', those damn Sparkies are gonna be takin' over these hotels 'fore too long. Then where'll ya get yer soup?"

"Don't tell me how to eat," chuckled Kevin. He waited until Frank had finished, then rose and helped him to his feet. "I'm gonna get a little nap in before we go salvaging tonight. You talk to Carl and Missy June…see if they want to come too."

"Aye," Frank grunted, and handed him his soup bowl. "Take that in fer me, will ya kid?"

Kevin shouldered his way back inside through the smelly crowd of hobos, dropped off the bowls and spoons in the cafeteria, and made it all the way to the elevator without being yelled at by too many sweaty old men simply for the crime of him being younger than they were. He pushed the call button and stepped in when the elevator finally stopped on the ground level.

It took a good three minutes to reach the ninth floor, and by then, he was almost asleep on his feet. Swimming in a zombielike state of tiredness, he somehow found his way over to room 928. It took a few tries to get the keycard to go in the right way, but the lock eventually popped open.

Grateful he at least had a nice bed to sleep on, Kevin stumbled into his room, closed the door, kicked off his boots, lay down on the mattress, and crashed into slumber. Oblivious to the decaying city that surrounded him, he soon lost himself in a dream about some crazy game show with a giant spinning wheel full of Magikarps and Goldeens.

Soup Hotel #4, three hours later

The city of CWCville, a vibrant community with happy people, cool chicks, business, and a frustrated male…

CRASH!

Kevin was rudely wrenched right out of his nap by the thunderous blast of a colossal explosion somewhere nearby. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he instinctively rolled away and accidentally ended up toppling over the side of the bed onto the floor. The carpet softened the impact somewhat, but not completely.

"Ah, shit." Pushing himself upright, Kevin shook his aching head to clear it and rose to his feet. What had just happened, and more importantly, where was it happening?

CRASH! A second explosion - a bit closer this time - rocked the soup hotel. Kevin yelled in surprise as the window shattered abruptly, covering his bed with bits of glass. Wind whipped the curtain back to reveal the skyline and horizon beyond, but from his room he couldn't see any sign of a bomb or other significant damage to CWCville.

More impacts sounded outside, each one sending a fresh shockwave through the nearby buildings. If indeed this was an earthquake as he suspected, Kevin had no desire to stick around a place located nine floors above the ground. He grabbed his keycard, threw on his boots and a faded grey jacket, and ran for the exit.

The hotel room door swung open to reveal a scene of utter chaos. Dozens of hobos were clustered around the elevator, frantically jabbing the call button as if that had any impact on how fast it would get to them. A fire must have started somewhere in the building, because the sprinkler systems were up and running full-blast. The hall carpet, the walls, and everyone inside were drenched with water. The blaring shriek of fire alarms mingled with the wailing of infants and a chorus of panicked yells and screams from the frightened residents of Soup Hotel #4.

Kevin didn't have time to take any of these details in. He was already out the door and sprinting for the closest emergency stairwell with a few other hobos whose common sense still hadn't deserted them.

"What's happening?" he shouted to no one in particular.

"Earthquake!" a scrawny-looking hobo yelled back. "Get to the lobby! Run fer it!"

The stairwell was packed with filthy homeless men, women, and children, all of whom seemed to be doing their best to push past those in front of them. They'd turned the entire line into a human sardine can, moving at what looked like a speed of 0.5 miles per hour. Kevin glanced over his shoulder. The stairs at the other end of the hall looked somewhat less occupied than the closer option, but that would put him right in the middle of the…

Kevin shoved the beginnings of doubt out of his mind and whirled around. Water splashed beneath his boots as he plunged forward and sprinted down the hall as fast as he could. A room door swung open and a middle-aged woman hurried out, right in his path. Kevin bowled her over without a second thought and shouted a hasty apology over his shoulder. He knew he was being selfish, but then again, he was well past the point where he gave a shit anymore.

There was a small utility door between the hall and the stairs. Praying that it accepted resident cards, Kevin slid his through the scanner and was rewarded by a green light and a click. He burst right through the now-unlocked door and found himself in the almost completely deserted maintenance stairwell. Wasting no time, Kevin dashed down the stairs and nearly collided with another hobo on his way past the sixth floor.

"Watch it, you clumsy son of a-" the man shouted. Kevin couldn't hear the rest of the insult because he was already another floor down. Soaked, terrified, and unsure what to do once he made it to the lobby, he focused instead on keeping himself moving downstairs one step at a time. Right now, he was simply making things up as he went along.

Finally, he reached the familiar LOBBY sign. Kevin nearly dislocated a shoulder in his rush to get through the door, but at least he was safe on the ground…

The lobby had been flooded with hobos.

"MOTHER…FUCKER," gasped Kevin, and hurled himself into the fray like a complete idiot.

Downtown CWCville, above the city

Slaweel Ryam sat cross-legged on her hovering jetboard, her silky blonde hair whipping back and forth in the wind as she patiently watched Graduon's titanic stone golem flattening another of the repulsive Sonichu creatures beneath its foot. Bullets and electric shocks were ineffective against the automaton - it simply did not give a fuck how many of Chandler's goons were in the way. As far as she could tell, civilian casualties were minimal to zero, but the golem's frenzied stomping might possibly knock some buildings down. That was the last thing she wanted right now.

At least I'm getting their attention. We'll just see how much longer Chandler can ignore this.

"You're absolutely sure this is the best way?" she shouted at the purple staff in her hand. "If we cause too much collateral damage, we might as well just give up now!"

"My golem is well-disciplined, Ryam," Count Graduon's sinister voice hummed inside her head. "Do not fear for your innocents, but do not weep for the ones who lack the sense to flee."

Slaweel gazed down and adjusted the jetboard's altitude so it brought her right to the level of the golem's shoulder. A firing line had been set up in the nearby plaza…the one the golem was heading for right now. Looking through her monocular, she noticed a few of the chus carrying long black tubes over their shoulders. Bazookas.

"They've got heavy infantry setting up in the plaza," she muttered to Graduon. "How well can your monster hold out against anti-tank missiles?"

The ancient spirit chuckled evilly. "You still doubt my powers, do you not? Very well." A flash of purple light exploded out of the purple sphere on the tip of the staff. The golem straightened its enormous body upright and stepped carefully down the street into the plaza, crushing another police barricade underfoot.

From where she was, Slaweel could hardly hear a thing above the howling wind, but actions definitely spoke louder than words in this situation. The teams of human mercenaries and EHPF officers opened fire as one, sending a fresh wave of bullets and several tiny grey smoke trails directly at the great legs of the stone colossus. A good three missiles exploded against the solid granite surface, but when the smoke cleared, she saw they had done no more damage than the assault rifle rounds.

"My mistake," she admitted, and wheeled her jetboard into a rapid descent. Effective or not, the other missiles were flying all over the place, impacting against the surrounding buildings, blasting cars into blazing piles of scrap, and blasting chunks of asphalt and concrete out of the street. She needed them out of the equation. "Hold on, Count. Ever heard of a strafing run?"

"The term is unfamiliar to me," replied the staff.

"Then you'd better hope I don't drop you." Slaweel slid Graduon into the strap across her shoulder, flipped her battle helm down over her face, and readied her trident. With a fiery roar, the jetboard's engines flared blue as she sent it hurtling through the air, straight for the Chandler loyalists' firing line.

In the plaza below, the unfortunate chus and human mercs were continuing their pathetic stand against the approaching golem. By the time they heard the shriek that heralded their doom, it was already too late.

Slaweel tore the jetboard out of its dive with an expert flip and stabbed her trident directly at the closest missile team. A white spear of energy erupted from the weapon's central prong and flashed down into the midst of the soldiers, vaporizing several and creating an explosion roughly the strength of an average C4 block. Three more aerial strikes decimated the loyalists' defenses, blasting mercenaries and Electric Hedgehog Pokémon alike to ribbons and completely annihilating their ground-to-air missile capabilities.

A burst of rifle fire zipped past her cheek, half a foot away from tearing her face off. Cursing at the top of her lungs, Slaweel whirled and unleashed a storm of blazing fireballs toward the offending merc below. The man never even had enough time to scream before the inferno turned him to ash where he stood. Any other survivors were now falling back, tending to their wounded, or else cowering in fear.

"Impressive," commented Graduon in her head. "I look forward to working with you, Ryam."

"I'M HERE FOR CHANDLER!" Slaweel shouted an ultimatum down to the loyalists, her voice radiating pure fury and defiance. She crossed her fingers and prayed they wouldn't call her bluff. "YOU'RE OUTGUNNED AND OUTMATCHED! GIVE ME THE MAYOR OR YOU'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"

And…here we go, she thought with a grim smile as three tiny shapes – blue, yellow, and orange - appeared on the horizon, flying towards the golem at supersonic speed. Gripping her trident with one hand and drawing Graduon with the other, Slaweel turned her jetboard to face these new foes. "Let them come. We'll shatter their hearts."

"And we'll take over the world," added the staff.

"You bet, ancient spirit." The woman rolled her eyes. Graduon was useful, to be sure, but whatever supreme authority was locked in that staff was definitely suffering some serious power delusions. Even now it was muttering something about being locked up for centuries by a couple of lame-sounding ancient clans…blah blah blah. All Slaweel Ryam wanted at this point was to strike Christian Weston Chandler and all his recolored abominations off the face of the earth…for good. And so far, she and Graduon were doing a pretty damn fine job.

Then Chris-Chan Sonichu, Saramah Rosechu, and Wes-Li Sonichu were upon them.

CWCville slums, outside Soup Hotel #4

Kevin burst out of the crowded lobby and into the street, nearly slamming into a car as he ran. The driver honked his horn and yelled out some unintelligible gibberish that might have been a profanity, but his intended target was already disappearing in between the tightly-packed traffic lining the streets of CWCville. Kevin weaved in between the cars with surprising agility, moving as if he were practicing parkour instead of running for his…

Clunk. Kevin winced in pain as his knee collided with the back of a taxi. Not so agile after all, are you? He hobbled forward a few feet, then continued running after the crowd. He had no idea where to go or where these other people were headed, but anywhere was better than trapped in a fucking soup hotel in the inner city. How he'd managed to escape was still a mystery…must have just been deus ex machina or some unbelievable measure of luck.

Unfortunately, Kevin hadn't seen any of his friends in the pandemonium. Wherever Frank was, he hoped the old man had enough sense to stay under cover and out of the way, not that it would do anything to help him against…

…the skyscraper-sized rock golem that was now towering over downtown CWCville.

Kevin's mouth dropped open and remained that way for a good ten seconds. Suddenly, his feet no longer obeyed the messages that his brain was screaming at them. Rooted to the ground with fear, he could only stand there, staring up at the colossal automaton with the kind of expression one would normally display if they'd just been found out that their mother was both a prostitute and formerly a man.

"Attention. Attention. Mandatory evacuation in progress," a city PA system blared somewhere far away. "Please proceed to the nearest designated safe zone. Do not attempt to communicate with or otherwise interact with…"

Ablaze and out of control, an EHPF cruiser shot through the intersection ahead and smashed headlong into the side of an apartment, throwing up a large plume of smoke and a spray of oily flames. Miraculously, no bystanders had been hit, but Kevin could tell – even at this distance – that both of the chus inside the vehicle were now very, very dead. Around them, hundreds of people were abandoning their cars right in the middle of the road, heading for the nearest subway station or any other safe places they could think of.

With a thunderous creak of stone on stone, the golem turned and slowly raised its arms in a defensive stance. It had spotted something in the distance.

Up in the sky above CWCville, three airborne dots materialized and quickly reformed into a stack formation. Kevin had no idea what the UFOs were, where they came from, or what they were doing, but at this point, he no longer cared since…well…the city was in the middle of a fucking golem attack.

Suddenly lights were flashing between the dot trio and the stone giant…three separate streams of what looked like yellow lightning bolts, a pure white energy beam, and a red-orange blaze. Each projectile struck a separate part of the golem's body - respectively, its eyes, its chest, and its knees.

The golem was reeling backward now, stumbling haphazardly across the plaza like a drunk. Through the chaos, Kevin noticed a fourth figure high in the sky - a purple and grey attack craft of some sort – speeding toward the three attackers almost as fast as a fighter jet.

Before the newcomer could reach them, the trio shot forward through the air and slammed into the golem's chest.

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

Again and again the line of colored spheres hurtled through the air, dealing massive damage to the giant enemy's weak points until…

GRRRRRRNNNNNNNNN…

In the back of his mind, somewhere buried in the deep recesses of his subconscious, Kevin could almost swear he heard someone screaming "NO!"

The golem groaned again, for the final time. Decapitated, kneecapped, and sporting grievous wounds all across its torso, it shuddered once and began to disintegrate. The massive stone construct collapsed with an explosion of clashing rocks and a single purple blaze of energy. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, it fell.

Directly towards Kevin Shaw.

"Run, you idiot!" a fleeing woman yelled as she noticed him standing there in shock. Her words fell on deaf ears.

The world exploded around Kevin as the golem crashed down upon him like the giant from "Jack and the Beanstalk," slamming into the plaza and an adjacent apartment building with enough force to gouge a massive misshapen crater in the asphalt and brickwork.

Something snapped back into place inside his head. Kevin turned to run, but it was too late. The golem's remnants instantly crushed the helpless man to death beneath an avalanche of solid granite.

Well, that was what would have happened, had a seven-foot sphere of bright purple energy not suddenly enveloped him. Kevin yelled in surprise as he slammed face first into the crackling barrier, but somehow suffered no major injuries. Outside, rocks crumbled to dust as they struck the shield wall, but not even a single shard of granite entered his protective bubble.

Finally, mercifully, the rockslide stopped.

When Kevin uncovered his eyes, the shield was gone. Hovering before him like the world's most badass surfer was a lone woman standing on what looked like Jim Hawkins' hoverboard from that Disney movie two years back…Treasure Planet…minus the solar sail. Her short purple dress fluttered in the breeze beneath a neatly-cut shock of blonde hair, a bronze helm that covered most of her face, and something that resembled a metal hairband with a pair of red-painted devil horns on top. She carried a red trident-like weapon in a sheath across her back, and was currently pointing a strange purple staff towards him.

Staring down from her jetboard, the woman raised her free hand and flipped the mask of her helm up to reveal her face.

"I know you," she breathed, almost too softly to hear. "The mall…you poor boy. You had no idea…"

Kevin's mouth dropped open so fast he nearly broke his jaw.

"YOU!" he shouted. "Mary Lee Walsh?"

"Another life, another time. You're not safe here." Walsh glanced skyward. A sudden look of fear spread across her face. "Get out of here! Get out of here now! Find us! Find the PVCC…"

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Kevin cursed loudly and stumbled backward as three Electric Hedgehog Pokémon - a yellow Rosechu, an orange Sonichu, and a dark blue Sonichu with a medallion around its neck – slammed into the road between him and Walsh.

"Are you all right? Are you all right?" yelled the Rosechu over her shoulder.

"Get out of here!" The orange Sonichu motioned for Kevin to stay back. "We'll handle this! Go! Go!"

The blue one hadn't even noticed who they were talking to.

A high-pitched screech blasted through Kevin's head. Gasping in pain, he clutched at his forehead, desperately seeking the source of this mental anguish.

"Another pawn for our little game, Ryam?" a sinister voice echoed around his skull. "You are most diligent, it appears."

Through a fiery red haze, Kevin could see the staff in Walsh's hand flashing purple, enunciating the words in his brain with every burst of purple light. The staff…it's the staff…the staff is talking…

"You three," continued the disembodied spirit, this time speaking to the chu trio, "may have thwarted our plans, but we will meet again…for I am Count Graduon."

The name made no sense to Kevin. Maybe it did to the Electric Hedgehog Pokémon, but for now, he wanted no further part in these matters. Scrambling hastily over the pile of rubble that had once been the colossal golem, he began climbing out of the crater as fast as he could.

"Until another day, hedgehogs!" Graduon chuckled evilly. With a burst of exhaust and a roar of firing engines, Walsh whirled her jetboard around and shot away down the street, leaving a faint smoke trail in her wake.

Atop the edge of the crater, Kevin collapsed to his knees, panting from exertion and coughing from the dust cloud that had enveloped the city after the golem's fall. He dragged himself to a good-sized chunk of rock and sat down to survey the damage.

Apart from the two buildings the golem had crushed on its way down, the city's collateral damage looked minimal, at the very worst. The only dead bodies he could see were of chu police and Chandler mercenaries…no downside there, he thought. Sure, the mercs might have had families, but they had sold their services to a madman nonetheless. It was a cruel rationalization, but then again, Kevin wasn't exactly feeling like sunshine and lollipops at the moment.

Down in the crater, the three chus were now talking amongst themselves.

"No use in chase…uh, chasing dhem now," muttered the blue one in a very Christian Weston Chandler-esque voice. "…since we will meet ahgain."

"Father!" a familiar voice called out from the street.

A yellow and pink blur sped down the crater and stopped in front of the other Electric Hedgehog Pokémon. Kevin's mouth would have dropped open in shock again, but by now he was too worn out to even care how much crazier things in CWCville got.

"I got here as fast as I could," Sonichu explained as he set Rosechu down on the ground beside him, "but it looks like I'm late."

Wait. Kevin could almost feel a fuse blow inside his head. Father? What the fuck does he…

"Don'…don' wowry about it, Sawnichu," droned the blue chu disinterestedly. "We three saved tha day!"

In a flash of white light, the three Electric Hedgehog Pokémon transformed. The yellow Rosechu became a young woman with blonde hair, a pink shirt, and purple gauntlets with bolt markings. To her left, the orange Sonichu had turned into an angry-looking man with brown hair and a grey shirt.

And directly in the center, the blue Sonichu pulsed with energy. Its tail retracted, its ears folded back and melted together to form flesh, and slowly, the form of an overweight, extremely unattractive man in his mid-20s emerged.

Apathetic as he was at the time, Kevin could hardly believe what he was seeing. Through some arcane means - dark magic, a deal with Satan, or a badly-written plot device - Christian Weston Chandler could now transform into a Sonichu.

"So Chris, how do we get back to Ruckersville from here?" asked the girl.

The hell with it all, Kevin thought with a fresh sense of determination, and set off down the street to find Frank. Things had gone too far now. He wanted answers, and if Walsh's PVCC could provide them, that's exactly where he was going to head next.