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Thread: Arachnophobia

  1. #1
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    Hey, hey, hey! Some of you may remember this fic which was originally released a year ago before writer's block kicked it in the bum. I finished several new chapters and it is now ready for rerelease =D The prologue is essentially the same though you will see some prominent changes in Chapter 1.

    This is a Rated R horror story for disturbing images and violence. I appreciate constructive criticism. Post in your review or PM me if you want to be notified when this fic is updated. Without further ado...enjoy =)




    Arachnophobia



    Prologue: Legs

    "And so the Bug Master Kyle has ventured into the deep forests of Nagooshama where he expects to conquer the toughest baddest bugs in all the world!"

    Two small toddlers fashioning large straw hats and tiny shorts ambled along the thick grasses of the National Park in Goldenrod City. The bigger one named Kyle was in front and held a large bug catching net in one hand and a red and white pokeball in the other. He sneaked along the jade path with his eyes darting left and right, searching for bug pokemon to capture. The boy behind him, Kellan, looked exactly the same except considerably shorter. He trudged along sheepishly holding a shaking camcorder as they walked, hoping to make their little nighttime stroll into a famous movie. Kyle’s Metapod had recently evolved into a powerful insect pokemon known as Butterfree, and now the boy felt invincible; able to conquer any bug pokemon that came across his path.

    It was well into the night, and the two brothers were alone. They were inseparable, united by the lust for adventure and bug pokemon. They were young, eight and six respectively, but they were feared among the Goldenrod junior trainers as formidable opponents. They trained at the National Park. But the best pokemon only came out at night. Despite about fifty “But Mom!!!”s, the boys were strictly forbidden from going to the park at night. Even if they were allowed, the park was closed at night.

    However, no Mommy or silly rule was about to get in the way of Bug Master Kyle and his dorky sidekick Kellan! They had snuck out of their house after their mother took her night-night pills, and crawled through a hole in the park fence. Now awesome pokemon battles awaited.

    “Kyle, I’m tired! Can we do this tomorrow?” Kellan pleaded sheepishly, nearly dropping the camera as he stumbled.

    “No, Kellan! I keep telling you, the big baddies only come out at night, and it’s our job as Super Bug Masters to destroy them! Now as I was saying…after a hundred hours of searching, Bug Master Kyle has yet to find a big bug to swat. However, he has something up his sl-sleeeeve,” Kyle responded with a loud yawn at the end. Shaking his head to stay awake, he tossed his pokeball to the ground to summon Crushizard, his monstrous Butterfree.

    Free…

    The butterfly pokemon came out sprawled on the floor dead asleep. Its wings were crumpled up as a blanket and its antennas drooped as it softly snored. Kellan giggled while Kyle screamed, “Wake up, Crushizard!” Mumbling incoherently, Crushizard struggled up to his tiny blue feet and turned around to scowl at Kyle.

    “Thar we go! Now, Crushizard will bring the scary monsters to us! Sweet Scent!”

    Grumbling again, Crushizard half-heartedly flapped its partially crumpled wings. A delightfully syrupy aroma emitted into the air and hovered around them. The pokemon promptly returned to sleep.

    “No, Crushizard! The monster’s gonna come soon!”

    Kellan snickered again as Kyle nudged and kicked his obstinate pokemon into moving. He loved his silly brother. He focused the camera on the orange mist that was the sweet scent until he heard a rustling in the grass ahead. Crushizard woke with a snap and Kyle turned to face the rustling, quite pale. The Butterfree extended his wings out fully and fluttered in the air, ready to ram into whatever was coming at them. Kyle tried to mask his panic from his brother, but wasn’t too good at it.

    “A-and s-so B-b-ug Master Kyle a-awaits t-the c-coming…” he said in a rising high-pitched voice until it was nothing but a squeak. The rustling in the high grass grew steadily louder, and Kellan too found himself stepping backwards, the camera shaking a lot more than before. A small creature leaped out of the grass, and the two boys screamed like two girls while the nimble Butterfree promptly rammed the bug in mid-air. The boys cautiously stepped forward to see what the creature was; in the dim light of the moon, they noticed it was orange and had mushrooms on its back. It must have just been a puny Paras.

    Crushizard smirked smugly to himself and began to kick the Paras in its sides until it got up again groaning.

    “And so Bug Master Kyle has conquered the legendary Vesuvius, who may look small, but contains enough poison to destroy an entire…”

    “Oh be quiet Kyle, it was just a wittle Paras!” Kellan snapped, turning off the camera.

    “Kellan! I’m your big brother and I’m telling you to turn that camera back on! We’re doing good work here!”

    “No we’re not!”

    While the two brothers bickered, the Paras and the Butterfree spoke in their own dialect, the Paras covered in thick terror sweat and Crushizard growing increasingly concerned. Nodding, the Butterfree let the Paras continue running and began to fly away itself, to the shock of Kyle.

    “CRUSHIZARD! DON’T LEAVE ME!” Kyle sped off in his pokemon’s wake, leaving his own brother behind.

    “Kyle!!!”

    Kellan joined the chase, running haphazardly through the grass, and tripping on a rock. He fell straight on his nose and crushed the camcorder under the weight of his chest. He placed his pudgy hand over his nostrils and his mouth, both of which were bleeding. His brother was completely out of sight, he could no longer hear him chasing after Crushizard. The little boy looked down at the smashed camcorder in sorrow; Kyle was going to kill him. Tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes; he was bleeding and all their hard work in making a great movie had gone to waste. He sat alone sobbing in the dark, clutching his bleeding face and wiping his hand clean on the soil every minute or so. His brother would come back soon, he knew it.

    He never noticed how cold it was, even though his shorts didn’t even make it half-way down his thighs. The dark was nothing to him normally, but the shroud of night combined with loneliness and an eerie silence just had a way of striking fear into a young boy’s heart. Kellan wrapped his arms around his knees tightly, shivering and counting backwards from ten. His brother always told him that if he was scared, he should count backwards from ten.

    “F-four…th-three…tw-two…one…”

    The fear had not vanished, nor diminished. In fact, it was only growing. Kellan’s focus suddenly turned to his mouth where a thin line of blood encircled his front tooth that was a bit looser than before. His nose had reduced to a dull throbbing, though the flow of blood was only getting worse. He wiped his hand on the soil again, but it collected more than dirt.

    His hand felt oddly sticky. He lifted them up to the moonlight to see a thin film of white goo on his hands. Confusion struck him momentarily. He began to stop sobbing and listened carefully. There was a scurrying. He heard a faint scratching sound, moving through the soil around him.

    He tried to leap to his feet but he couldn’t budge a limb. The moonlight began to fade away into comforting embrace of the night and soon the twinkling stars grew dull until they were nothing more than black splotches in the dark sky. Kellan’s eyes then moved towards the only sources of light remaining—distant light poles. But their light abruptly disappeared without so much as a flicker.

    Then, he heard a squelch. Something thudded against his side; he looked down to see it. Kellan’s eyes grew wide; it was the white substance again. It looked ominously familiar; gulping, he scooped the thing from his side and held it up to his eyes desperately trying to survey it. In the blackness of the world it shined white like a mutated plasma. It was thicker than before and felt strangely warm.

    “K-kyle?”

    The boy’s blood grew cold as the darkness began to engulf him. He looked up into the sky where the moon had disappeared. He reassured himself that the moon was there; a cloud must have simply passed by. But even he knew that was a lie. The soil seemed to be lighter, the grass softer. It seemed that the totality of existence had been vanquished, except for his rhythmic shallow breathing. A million thoughts screamed at him from the depths of his mind “Run away!” “Stay very still!”, but they all clashed together and in the end, Kellan remained motionless, eyes wide open, quietly crying Kyle’s name.

    “Kyle…come back…”

    The scurrying returned once more, amplified ten times greater than before. He could feel the legs crawling on his eardrums. He could hear the thousand tiny hairs brushing against his skin. The squelching returned as well, complete with more globs of the sticky white goo plastering onto his chest. The tears fell harder now, he parted his lips to sob, but they wouldn’t move. He was totally paralyzed. Soon, hundreds of legs were scurrying across the soil, splashing him with their awful spit. Kellan was a mere statue as they molded him into perfection.

    Only the thought of his brother prevented him from slipping into insanity, as the stickiness began to crawl to his neck. Kyle is coming…he and Crushizard are going to stop the legs…he’ll take this icky stuff off…we’ll go home. He stared distantly into the darkness; he could have sworn there was a faint outline of one of the legs. Then, the goo struck his eyes. He was complete. Blinded and mummified in the awful stickiness.

    Finally, he could express fear. Hollow cries of help reverberated from his throat but struck a barrier at his mouth. More tears managed to well up in his eyes, but choked by the stickiness, they simply dissolved into nothing. Kyle was going to come…he had to! The legs began to crawl closer, shattering the unofficial wall that had stood between them. They had slithered under him and with the support of hundreds; they hoisted him up onto their backs. He could not feel them under his plaster, nor knew where they were going to take him.

    Then, a new thought dawned on Kellan. The legs could be good; they were taking him back to Kyle. Of course, it all made sense. A delightful hilarity tingled down his spine. He calmed himself down and was patient for his reunion with his brother. Kyle was going to laugh so hard…

    The legs walked for miles.

    The wait was indeed a very banal one. Abruptly, they stopped. The stickiness seemed to be looser than before, most likely from all the sweat that trickled through his skin in the march. The legs ran from underneath him and darted as far away from the boy as they could. Though they were hidden, he sensed their many eyes watching him. They wanted to make sure that Kyle came and Kellan would be safe.

    A soft wind began to howl in agony. It echoed throughout the land, like the dirge of a banshee. It progressively became louder until it was nothing more than a distant hum. The wind once erratic and chaotic then began to speed in front of the boy, taking its hands and gripping the edge of the sinister world, ripping it apart at its very seams. The world began to quake madly at this unsound disruption, yet Kellan was perfectly still. Now he could feel the cold as it plummeted to the point where his sweat turned to little icicles dotted along his body.

    He could hear the legs shuddering. Light began to pierce the Darkness. Two scarlet lights had struck Kellan, bathing him in gentle warmth through the chill. They scanned him carefully and then moved up to his eyes. He shut his eyes to avoid the brightness; the plaster was beginning to melt away until he could finally see once more. The scarlet lights vanished, and Kellan beheld “Kyle.”

    He could scream now. A great roar surged from his stomach, shattering the plaster on his mouth with sheer velocity as Kellan screamed for his mother. Burning in black flames, the supreme leg growled at him. Its scarlet eyes were locked onto Kellan’s blue. The legs began to scamper away, fleeing the Darkness. All the boy could see was the leg’s mouth. Overgrown with great manes of black hair, the mouth was wide open, dripping with putrid drool. Its golden fangs twitched, blood-red venom oozing from its sharp points.

    It lunged.
    A Championship Battle
    FINISHED: Johto's top psychic trainer and the granddaughter of an Elite Four member go head to head for the Silver Cup championship. Features underused pokemon including Tropius, Slowking, and my personal favorite, Jynx



    This story is too fleshed out and completed in my head for me not to finish it. I'm determined to finish my first real, fleshed out fiction. And I'll wait until it's done before posting it. Chapters 6/18.

  2. #2

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    Title-stealer! Hypocrite!

    naa, naa. Just kidding. Anyway, 'tis good to see this fic back. And I adore the butterfree's name: Crushizard. XD So incredibly awesome. And it was nice reading this 'fic again. The poor kids. : / Nobody deserves to get attacked and/or eaten by a monster arachnid.

  3. #3
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    I'm glad to see this up and running again. ^^ I love the mix of humor and horror in this, and I can't help but enjoy reading about dorky little "Bug Masters" and terrible things befalling them. X3 Plus, swarming spiders are just cool as frell. A frelling horde of the things crawling towards their prey--yeah, that's a pretty danged creepy image, and a cool one to boot.

        Spoiler:- Highlights:


    I'll keep on reading, just as I did the time before. ^^
    Looking for my fics? They're right here!

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    naa, naa. Just kidding. Anyway, 'tis good to see this fic back. And I adore the butterfree's name: Crushizard. XD So incredibly awesome. And it was nice reading this 'fic again. The poor kids. : / Nobody deserves to get attacked and/or eaten by a monster arachnid.
    I don't know, Saff. I had to watch 7 rowdy children who were constantly fighting each other and crying and battling over the N64 controller in addition to two babies who chased each other screaming as loud as they good.

    I'm glad to see this up and running again. ^^ I love the mix of humor and horror in this, and I can't help but enjoy reading about dorky little "Bug Masters" and terrible things befalling them. X3 Plus, swarming spiders are just cool as frell. A frelling horde of the things crawling towards their prey--yeah, that's a pretty danged creepy image, and a cool one to boot.
    Hah, you haven't seen the last of it

    I always love to see authentic little-kidisms in fiction, and the "But Mom!!!"s are a great example of such. ^^
    I was a fervid user of But-Mom back in the day

    Fwee for pill jokes! XD
    It's more than a joke, alas

    Crushizard = best Butterfree name ever. XD
    Twice as good as a Horsea named Eviscerator


    Also creepy. ^^ And fwee for oozing venom; it's both gross and cool at the same time.
    Its one creepy monster, eh?


    Thanks for the reviews guys, sorry for not updating, I've been meaning to get around to it. I'll update around tomorow night
    A Championship Battle
    FINISHED: Johto's top psychic trainer and the granddaughter of an Elite Four member go head to head for the Silver Cup championship. Features underused pokemon including Tropius, Slowking, and my personal favorite, Jynx



    This story is too fleshed out and completed in my head for me not to finish it. I'm determined to finish my first real, fleshed out fiction. And I'll wait until it's done before posting it. Chapters 6/18.

  5. #5
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    Here's the new chapter, folks! Man, looks like my days of fame are over ;_; Guess I have to build it back up


    Chapter 1: Experts

    Ophelia Hardwell was a very grumpy woman. Her uniform was not ironed, her shirt was not properly tucked in, and her eyes were ringed with dark circles. She had received a stat page to go to 250 Ozora Lane, and it was only five in the morning. The damn rookie officers couldn’t wipe their asses if Ophelia didn’t give them step-by-step instructions. Because of lack of applicants, the Goldenrod City Pokémon Control had to dumb down its standards, and this was reflected in the bloodshot eyes of the more skilled officers who did all the work. As the top elite officer and unofficial field commander, Ophelia found her eyes the most strained.

    There was once a time, back when she was a powerful senior officer, when she frightened the Control more than any bloodthirsty Gyarados could. According to fellow elite officer, Jack Weatherby, she had lost her dominance after giving birth to Shelby. Giving birth made her human, it stripped away her apotheosis. No one feared a mother until she bestowed her full wrath upon them. Ophelia scoffed, she was just as deadly as she was before; having a child who needed her only made her a greater force to be reckoned.

    Whatever the reason for their insolence, she was ready to kick some ass if whatever issue currently disrupting 250 Ozora Lane was yet another wild Rattata. As she drove into the road, she did not have to look far to see the house; there were three police cars parked across the lawn. Driving skills was also in painful deficiency. Ophelia’s interest perked up somewhat, if there were this many cars, it was bound to be interesting. Then again, there were four cars at the runaway Slugma incident last December. She kicked so many asses that day.

    She stepped out of her car, hurriedly attempting to straighten her uniform last. A very timid and pudgy trainee officer ran from the door to brief her.

    “Missus Hardwell! Come quick, there’s a rabid Growlithe that needs to be put down!” he yelled rather nervously. Ophelia could read in his darting eyes that he was scared to death of canine pokemon, obviously why he chose to wait outside to greet her. But she could also see the way he wouldn’t make eye contact that he was scared of her too. Guts were essential to be a PokeControl officer. She would mold him good.

    “What’s your name, Trainee?” Ophelia interrogated very calmly. The officer still flinched; Ophelia’s voice had a certain sharpness to it.

    “L-l-lawson, Ma’am.”

    “How long has it been since you graduated academy?”

    “Around t-three months, I think.”

    “Well, Lawson. Please tell me why you couldn’t wait until I was nice and awake before you paged me.”

    “I-i-i don’t know, Ma’am.”

    “You don’t know? I see. Trainee, when you brief an Elite officer, you better be aware of all of your facts. Am I clear?”

    “Y-y-yes.”

    “Now get out of the way.”

    He promptly moved aside, dabbing his sweaty face with a frilly pink handkerchief. Not bothering to comment, Ophelia continued on inside the rundown house where she could hear the cacophony of the officers chatting and laughing. They shut up as soon as she entered the living room where several couches were ripped apart, paintings and vases shattered, and a rather large Growlithe was shackled with specialty restraining rope on the stained coffee table. Ophelia scanned the pokemon carefully; it was growling and frothing at the mouth softly. Large tufts of orange and red hair were missing while the rest was brown with dirt. One of its ears was half-bitten off while its right foreleg seemed to be broken, most likely from the chase. Its yellow eyes were tinted red, the surefire sign of the Monster. Several pokémon were positioned around it, ready to strike, including a Quagsire, a Graveler, and a Medicham.

    “Who paged me?” Ophelia asked, breaking the long silence.

    The man in the cobalt uniform, a sign of a junior officer, stepped forward boldly. He was in his late thirties with a prominent black moustache. He dared to look her right in the eyes and explain himself, “You are the only licensed PokéVet we could contact at this time. We need you to put down this Growlithe so that we can end our shift.”

    Ophelia’s fury intensified. This Junior officer woke the top-most ranking officer in the force to put down a pokemon so that he could go to bed early. The disrespect was unforgivable, he would pay dearly. However, she was collected enough to mask her rage from the trainees who watched her laxly, not recognizing her authority. It was time to show them who was boss.

    “Listen up to me, officer. If you ever wake an elite officer to give your *** three hours of extra sleep again, I will beat your ass so raw that you’ll be walking around like a retarded Wobbuffet. Do I make myself clear?” Ophelia stated calmly, glaring up at the junior office who continued to stare smugly into space. The trainee officers began to chuckle until she flashed her deathly glare to them too.

    “Yes, Ma’am.”

    “I don’t understand what gave you the audacity to page me like this, but rest assured, you will be punished and regret the second when you chose to page me stat. Stat is for life and death emergencies. Your situation is just laziness. Now get out of my sight, do I make myself clear?”

    “Yes, Ma’am. Morison has the injection.” And with that, he walked out of the room, obeying Ophelia’s orders.

    The trainees began to fear her authority now; like the pudgy Lawson, they wouldn’t even dare to look at her. Her back towards them, Ophelia couldn’t help but crack a smile. She may have lost touch with the current generation of PokéControl, but the emerging one would grow to fear her. The trainee Morison approached her tentatively holding out the box that contained the injection. She took it from him and looked down at Growlithe. The red tint in his eyes glared at her neck, lusting to rip it out, but the yellow choked under the red pleaded for its life desperately. Ophelia gazed at the yellow tint apologetically, but as much as she wanted to save it, she knew it was gone forever. She held its neck and felt a nice vein.

    The Growlithe knew what was coming, but it did not fight. The needle punctured the vein, and the Growlithe began to tremor, restricted greatly by its bondage. The yellow began to whine and soon both red and yellow faded.

    A moment of silence followed, as the trainees hung their heads in solemness. The trainees were not yet numb to the death of a pokemon. Soon, it would be all that they would see. The sorrow of such a moment would never disappear, but after witnessing it so many times, a PokéControl officer becomes almost indifferent to it.

    The silence was broken by a very loud beeping from Ophelia’s pager. She removed it from her belt unenthusiastically, but her disposition changed as soon as she read it. It read “Ntl. Park” in flashing scarlet letters. Scarlet letters indicated a page from the head office itself.

    *****

    Squirt!

    Squirt!

    The best way to describe the feeling of a Miltank’s udders would be “rubbery.” They were great tough sacs rife with creamy milk. The thought of clutching them and squeezing the milk out like toothpaste from its tube would most likely put off most men from the sweet taste of a dairy product permanently, but not for Whitney McDonald. Vivacious leader of the Goldenrod City Gym, Whitney was also the proud heir to the successful McDonald Family Ranch.

    She started milking Miltank when she was barely four; it was all natural to her. Of course, because of modern technology she hadn’t laid a finger on an udder in years, but because of a technical malfunction, they had to temporarily revert to the old fashioned way. Because they normally sent out thousands gallons of milk daily, it was not an easy job. They had to hire many bozos from the city whom Whitney wouldn’t let so much look at her precious Miltank let alone milk them. Unfortunately, without the bozos, milk prices all throughout Johto threatened to skyrocket.

    “Done! Whoo! You had a lot in ya, Tiffany!” Whitney said with a bit of a pant affectionately to the Miltank, stroking her neck. She wiped a good deal of sweat from her brow; milking was much more physically straining then it looked. The particular Miltank was a bit of a weird pokemon, her eyes were very hazy and her lips lopsided. She responded to Whitney with a simple, “mner.”

    Picking up the bucket of lumpy, virgin milk, Whitney left the stable and felt the warm sun creep across her neck. It was dawn; she could hear the Dodrio caw in the distance. As she marched through the green fields of McDonald Family Ranch, she glanced every now and then at the stables where the temporary hands were milking the. Despite them being far away, she could still sense their crass, obnoxious hooting. Of course, she didn’t have to defend the Miltank; they had one helluva back kick. She couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of a heap of bruised men she came across the other day.

    “Whitney! WHITNEY! Come quick!”

    A teenage girl with cherry pigtails came running across field to greet Whitney, flailing her arms madly. Rolling her eyes and placing down the bucket, Whitney called back to her.

    “What is it, Norma?” she shouted back as her sister approached panting.

    “S-something bad happened. T-the news!” Norma huffed pointing at their house not far up the hill. Whitney raised her hand to stop any further words; she understood.

    “Take this milk to the barn,” Whitney quietly commanded before starting her own sprint across the field to her house. Many bad things happened in Goldenrod City: several people were shot a week, many more were robbed, and it’s terrible to think of all those poor girls getting preyed on by the filthy gamblers. Ever since the casino opened over fifteen years ago, her precious city had descended to nothing but an abyss of whores, gamblers, and organized crime.

    But what on Earth would be so bad that Norma would come running out to alert her?

    After several minutes of running, Whitney entered her small house where the small television in the living room was loud and blaring. She couldn’t help but gasping at the bold red headline at the bottom of the screen.

    “Child Mutilated in National Park”

    “Oh dear God, what the Hell is happening to this town,” Whitney muttered to herself as she sat on the leather couch, watching the news intently.

    It was a chaotic scene. Many people were crowded around a yellow police line barring the National Park Entry. One of the more popular field journalists, Eleanor Abercrombie, was on the scene dressed rather garishly as usual. Her blonde hair was perched up in a beehive of chemicals and toxins while her Botox-injected face was smothered with more makeup than usual. For such a grim subject, her bright magenta business suit seemed rather inappropriate.

    “As stated before, we have little details at this point. All that is known now is that while opening the National Park, park officers had come across a terrified young boy standing over the body of another child about an hour ago. The body was quoted to be ‘mutilated beyond belief’ by park officer Nathan Abraham. We have no further information on the body, but it is rumored that the head was severed clean off and the heart was missing…”

    Whitney scoffed. Any thing News Channel 2 claimed was rumored would simply become rumored after they stated it. At the same time, she could not help but feel queasy at the image of a young child killed, yet alone mutilated beyond belief. Not that the Channel 2 cared, all they wanted to do was paint scandalous details to get more viewers. Surely enough, they came.

    “The night shift guards reportedly left their post to go on a drinking binge according to eyewitnesses from the Miltank Pub. This explains why the body was found so late as well as why the children were able to enter the Park so late at night. National Park Commissioner Holden Hunter has remained silent on the lack of competence among his employees as well as this incident overall. Now this boy’s death obviously seems to be a result of a pokemon attack, however, some officials claim that such a mutilation could have only been a result of another human being…”

    Whitney scoffed again. The only official that would give such a statement was Miss Abercrombie’s shiny magenta bum. She waited for some actual information, such as what happened to the surviving boy and the fate of the National Park, but, of course, more scandalous details followed.

    “Viewers have sent in concerns about why two boys were out so late, and at this point, we have no information as the two children have yet to be identified, and the Police Department has not heard any reports of missing children yet. The parents could have very well been one of the many adults spending entire nights at the casino, perhaps still there. As for the surviving boy, he was reportedly in a state of shock with no visible injuries. He was taken to the Goldenrod City Hospital anyways, but the body of the deceased child was transported to the morgue about a half-hour ago. The autopsy cannot begin until parental approval.”

    Finally, a source of quality information came on the screen. Park Commissioner Holden Hunter appeared in his best suit behind the police line accompanied by several police officers and park officers. As expected, the ruckus exploded from the crowd and the reporters magnetically flew towards Mr. Hunter with an arsenal of demanding questions.

    “What happened here, Mr. Hunter?”

    “Was it man or pokemon?”

    “Isn’t it true the night guards were not at their posts?”

    The devious Abercrombie demanded, “Why is it that children can break into your park and get killed, Mr. Hunter?”

    Holden Hunter kept his head high and face calm as he firmly stated, “The National Park will be closed until further notice. No further comments.”

    The ruckus grew even more deafening as the reporters defiantly continued their stream of questions and the crowd jeered while Hunter repeatedly “No comment” indifferently. Whitney turned off the television; she had enough of the Media Circus. As town Gym Leader, she would receive all the true facts very soon anyway.

    Unsurprisingly, her phone rang as soon as Whitney turned off the television. Not bothering to let whoever was on the other line speak, Whitney simply picked up the phone, “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

    *****

    “Come on, Scyther, stay strong!”

    Some commands were much easier said than done. In this particular case, it was quite ludicrous to tell a pokemon to stay strong after being struck three times in the chest. But this particular Scyther did manage to muster up enough strength to remain standing and to keep going.

    Dawn battles were Bugsy’s favorite type of battles. As the sun rose, a pokemon’s reflexes were at its sharpest, they would always fight spectacularly. He was currently facing gym challenger Josh Perot, a trainer specializing in mountain pokemon. Type advantages never really mattered to Bugsy, he always managed to find some way to overcome them, but type advantages weren’t the only thing Josh Perot had going for him. He was a fierce competitor, always driving his pokemon to their maximum potential. Bugsy had never seen such grace in a rock pokemon before, but Perot’s Geodude maneuvered its rocky body like a feather around the field. Scyther, despite his speed, found himself struck painfully several times.

    “He’s just asking for it, Orca, Rock Tomb!” Perot shouted arrogantly directing the Geodude at Scyther’s head.

    The Geodude smirked, flexing its abnormally large muscles and punching the ground with earth-shaking results. Large chunks of rock blasted from the battlefield and bolted towards a panting Scyther. The Dawn sun shining through the window and into his bruised wings, the Scyther felt a surge of power as he leaped into the air brandishing his razor sharp scythes.

    “Steel Wing!” Bugsy ordered with his own rare air of arrogance.

    The bug pokemon’s wings spread out fully, a glorious five feet wide, and shined bright white until they hardened like freshly tempered steel. His eyes shining red, Scyther directed his scythes towards the Geodude and rocketed towards his opponent, his steel wings ready to slice him in half. Without an order, Orca crossed his arms and braced himself for the blow, his entire body glowing black as it hardened.

    “SCYTHER!”

    Despite his defense, Orca winced painfully as the bug pokemon’s wing had smashed through his defenses and sliced his rocky skin. Perot cringed in unison: to break through his precious Geodude’s Harden an attack had to be particularly powerful. Bugsy grinned to himself privately; he and Scyther had been perfecting that move for months to show those pathetic rock types who was boss. He waited a moment for the referee to decide whether to end the match or not.

    The referee did not have to look far, Geodude simply bounced back gritting his teeth through the pain, considerably more incensed than before. Not wanting to wait this precious moment, Bugsy ordered his pokemon to strike again.

    “One more ought to do it, Scyther!”

    Scyther who surveyed the Geodude closely from mid-air prepared to attack once more. His wing ached; he had struck with the bruised wing, but this time the blow would be with the other wing. Spreading his mighty wings out once more, they continued to glow with sheer energy as he plummeted down for the finishing move.

    But Orca wasn’t going to allow an easy victory. Furious with rage, he turned to face the Scyther and raised his clenched fist which blazed with white hot flames. Perot cried out a triumphant “Hah!” Bugsy wasn’t the only one who could teach his pokemon unusual moves.

    Bugsy realized his amateur mistake: underestimating his opponent. After so many battles with dumb Bug Catchers with Metapods that only knew Harden, he had forgotten what it was like to battle a true pokemon trainer.

    Scyther saw the flaming fist, but it was too late to pull out of his nosedive. He scrunched his eyes tightly preparing to brace the imminent pain. A split-second before his flaming fist made contact, the Geodude let out a magnificent roar.

    “GEODUUUDE!”

    “SCYTHER!”

    With his cry of anguish, the metallic wing crumpled immediately, bursting into flames and starting to melt. The wings returned to normal, but the fire continued to blaze as it began to spread to Scyther’s body. Despite his incredible agony, the Scyther dropped to the floor and began to roll around in order to stop the spread of the fire. When he finished and the flames disappeared, the Scyther fainted out of shock.

    “Scyther is unable to battle; Josh Perot of Cianwood City is the winner!”

    A crest-fallen Bugsy returned his fallen pokemon to his pokeball before looking up at his defeater with a grin. Even if he did lost, it was one of the more difficult, exhilarating battles he had in a long time.

    After congratulating his Geodude, Perot called him back and walked over to Bugsy with a bit of a smirk. Bugsy harbored no negative feelings; he lost a good battle and raised his hand to salute the winner. They shook hands firmly as Bugsy presented him with the Hive Badge.

    “Congratulations on your victory! I present you with the Hive Badge that proves your excellence here at the Azalea Town Gym. Good luck with the other six badges!” Bugsy announced in his semi-rehearsed voice. “Excellent use of Fire Punch, if I may add.”

    “Thank you, Mr. Bugsy,” Perot responded in a genuinely honest voice. “To be honest, I was expecting a lot less from a bug gym leader, but you were quite the pain.”

    They laughed as the sun shined fully through the windows. Dawn was over, it was now day. “If you think I’m a pain, just wait till you fight Whitney over in Goldenrod City. Trust me; she’s made the toughest men bawl like little girls.”

    As Perot left, Bugsy’s thoughts immediately returned to the rather serious injuries Scyther had acquired. There were no other challengers in line, he would go to the nearby PokeCenter and hopefully Scyther would come out good as ever. Once Scyther nearly lost his leg to a Kingler but managed to defeat it as well as the next challenger

    As he prepared to leave, his younger sister Honey (gym caretaker) entered the battlefield. She just hit the age of eighteen, but managed to keep the gym and gym grounds maintained and organized well despite Bugsy’s painful lack of organizational skills.

    “What’s going on, Sis?” Bugsy asked as his sister approached him looking rather tired.

    “There’s someone outside who wants to speak to you—”

    “If it’s a challenger, tell him to come back in a few hours,” Bugsy mumbled cutting her off.

    “What did I tell you about cutting me off? You have to LISTEN, Bugsy,” Honey snapped annoyed. She was rather high-maintenance. “Aye, aye, aye. Twenty eight years old and still…”

    “Acting like any old two year old bug catcher, I’ve heard this before, Sis. Anyway, who’s out there?”

    “Yes, if you let me finish my rant, you would have realized it was a member of the Goldenrod City PokéControl! It seems rather urgent,” Honey finished, directing him to the door.

    Bugsy groaned. He was always contacted at anything remotely bug related. Though he was more than happy to help people out, especially if it required his extensive knowledge of bug pokemon, he had to admit it did get a bit tiring. Particularly in very unnecessary cases such as the Caterpie swarm at Mahogany. (A little fire can do a lot more than you’d expect.)

    Keeping Scyther’s pokeball with him, he walked outside the gym where a bearded man wearing a brown uniform waited for him.

    “Hello, Mr. Bugsy. My name is Jack Weatherby, elite officer for the Goldenrod City PokéControl. I was sent because your help has been requested. I assume you heard about what happened over the news?” the man asked rather seriously, shaking Bugsy’s hand.

    “Can’t say I have, I had a gym battle first thing in the morning. What happened? Oh, and call me Bugsy,” Bugsy replied with a hint of concern. He could tell by Weatherby’s deep dimples that such a grave face was unusual for this man.

    “There was an attack in National Park in the middle of the night. A little boy was brutally attacked and killed.” Weatherby’s eyes began to flash in a weird way. It dawned upon Bugsy that he saw the body first hand. The PokeControl officer sighed and continued, “Look, this is one of the worst attacks I’ve ever seen. Half his torso was torn out…”


    Jack stopped sharing the details; he was still reliving the discovery in his head and wanted to free himself from the horror that still shook him. Bugsy couldn’t help but wince slightly. He was no stranger to pokemon attacks—even on children. Just the other month he investigated the decapitation of a poor young trainer named Jimmy Rocheemy who tried to capture a Scyther by befriending it. But an attack of this caliber…

    “The National Park you say? This is all very strange…bug pokemon rarely attack children because they dislike child pheromones. It could have always attacked out of self-defense, but an attack so vicious is well beyond defense…”

    “Some of our best experts had the same confusions. They only know what they read in books, you’re a much more valuable source to us. We need at the medical examination and in this investigation. You are, after all, ‘The Walking Bug Pokémon Encyclopedia’.” A faint smile finally appeared on Jack’s lips.

    “I guess I have no choice. When do you need me to come?” Bugsy asked. Underneath his disgust was a secret pride of being referred to by his self-proclaimed title.

    “We have a helicopter positioned not far away. We need you immediately.” Weatherby stated rather firmly. Bugsy was taken aback; he was told of a child being killed and not even a minute later demanded to go all the way to Goldenrod City. He really had no choice in the matter. When a child is murdered, one cannot be lax about it.

    “Well, I guess so. I have no battles scheduled for the rest of the day. I don’t need to bring anything now, do I?” Bugsy agreed relunctantly.

    “Nope, you should be able to return in a few hours. If not, we will send someone to get anything you need.”

    Bugsy nodded. He returned to the gym to instruct his sister, but she was already standing at the door looking rather pale. She had a bad habit of eavesdropping, but he would ignore it this time. “Honey, I need you to take Scyther to the PokeCenter, he was hurt in the last battle. Keep the gym in check!”

    “Yes, Brother,” Honey replied, taking Scyther’s pokeball.

    And so Bugsy accompanied the PokeControl officer to the helicopter. He was rather nervous at the impedending sight of a mutilated young child, but he also understood that it was his duty to make sure whatever killed the child would not strike again. He knew deep inside that it was not a bug pokemon, no bug pokemon could do what he just heard.
    Last edited by IceKing; 20th January 2008 at 1:34 AM.
    A Championship Battle
    FINISHED: Johto's top psychic trainer and the granddaughter of an Elite Four member go head to head for the Silver Cup championship. Features underused pokemon including Tropius, Slowking, and my personal favorite, Jynx



    This story is too fleshed out and completed in my head for me not to finish it. I'm determined to finish my first real, fleshed out fiction. And I'll wait until it's done before posting it. Chapters 6/18.

  6. #6
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    Just so you know, I am still suspicious of that Miltank's name. XPPPP

    I loved all the morbid stuff in this chapter. ^^ There was a nice amount of humor in that one, too, as well as a nice battle scene. And I still feel that you did an excellent job on the characters. ^^

    Highlights:

    The damn rookie officers couldn’t wipe their asses if Ophelia didn’t give them step-by-step instructions.
    That amuses me so... XD

    Whatever the reason for their insolence, she was ready to kick some *** if whatever issue currently disrupting 250 Ozora Lane was yet another wild Rattata.
    I think I'll always be amused by the thought of people calling to report, in the utmost fear, the presence of a LITTLE PURPLE RODENT. XDDDD

    Then again, there were four cars at the runaway Slugma incident last December. She kicked so many asses that day.
    That, too, will probably also always amuse me. XDDDD

    If you ever wake an elite officer to give your *** three hours of extra sleep again, I will beat your *** so raw that you’ll be walking around like a retarded Wobbuffet.
    XDDDD

    She took it from him and looked down at Growlithe. The red tint in his eyes glared at her neck, lusting to rip it out, but the yellow choked under the red pleaded for its life desperately. Ophelia gazed at the yellow tint apologetically, but as much as she wanted to save it, she knew it was gone forever. She held its neck and felt a nice vein.

    The Growlithe knew what was coming, but it did not fight. The needle punctured the vein, and the Growlithe began to tremor, restricted greatly by its bondage. The yellow began to whine and soon both red and yellow faded.
    The stuff about the red and the yellow was awesome. *_*

    Of course, she didn’t have to defend the Miltank; they had one helluva back kick. She couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of a heap of bruised men she came across the other day.
    Amusing image. X3

    Her blonde hair was perched up in a beehive of chemicals and toxins while her Botox-injected face was smothered with more makeup than usual.
    "Botox-injected face"... XD Awesome detail, that.

    The body was quoted to be ‘mutilated beyond belief’ by park officer Nathan Abraham. We have no further information on the body, but it is rumored that the head was severed clean off and the heart was missing…
    Fwee, how awesomely morbid. ^^ I especially love the use of the phrase "mutilated beyond belief". X3

    The night shift guards reportedly left their post to go on a drinking binge according to eyewitnesses from the Miltank Pub.
    Gee, what reliable guards they turned out to be. XP

    The only official that would give such a statement was Miss Abercrombie’s shiny magenta bum.
    XDDDD

    As expected, the ruckus exploded from the crowd and the reporters magnetically flew towards Mr. Hunter with an arsenal of demanding questions.
    I like the use of "magnetically" there.

    Without an order, Orca crossed his arms and braced himself for the blow, his entire body glowing black as it hardened.
    That's a cool image there. o.o

    Scyther saw the flaming fist, but it was too late to pull out of his nosedive. He scrunched his eyes tightly preparing to brace the imminent pain. A split-second before his flaming fist made contact, the Geodude let out a magnificent roar.

    “GEODUUUDE!”

    “SCYTHER!”

    With his cry of anguish, the metallic wing crumpled immediately, bursting into flames and starting to melt.
    Wow. o.o Very cool. ^^

    Particularly in very unnecessary cases such as the Caterpie swarm at Mahogany.
    I love the image that puts in my mind. XD

    Just the other month he investigated the decapitation of a poor young trainer named Jimmy Rocheemy who tried to capture a Scyther by befriending it.
    Wow. o.o Whatever made Jimmy think that was a good idea? XD
    Looking for my fics? They're right here!

  7. #7
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    I didn't jump onto this thread when it was originally posted, but now is as good a time as any. I'd like to be on the PM list.

    How long I haven't seen good grotesquery I hardly remember, and it was gross fun watching that superb handling of terror once again, the fun being compounded by a similar hatred of immaturity to yours--you never know how 'innocent', 'sweet' and 'pure' small children are until you see first-hand. I particularly liked how you emphasized on the last thoughts of this Kellan, rather than supplying only gore; horror is not properly disturbing until you have something like this:

    Then, a new thought dawned on Kellan. The legs could be good; they were taking him back to Kyle. Of course, it all made sense. A delightful hilarity tingled down his spine. He calmed himself down and was patient for his reunion with his brother. Kyle was going to laugh so hard…
    preceding the monster's attack. One must assault the reader both viscerally and morally, of course.

    And, to cap off this rather pointless review, I wonder whether the miltank called Tiffany was entirely a coincidence...
    Last edited by Praxiteles; 1st February 2008 at 3:40 PM. Reason: Pokemon =/= animals! Must remember!

  8. #8

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    If Tiffany the Miltank was a coincidental name, I'll still be forever amused by it. And, like before, I really liked Ophelia (I hope she's not suicidal, deep down o.o... were her parents murdered...? Is that why she's single?) And I really liked the scene with the Growlithe being put down, really effective, the poor thing. xD

    And Bugsy, I thought he was a s/he when I first played my Gold version way back when.

  9. #9
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    Muchos gracias for the reviews! I'll put up the next chapter on Saturday.

    And dang it that Miltank's name is a coincidence xD At least, at the time it was written


    I loved all the morbid stuff in this chapter. ^^ There was a nice amount of humor in that one, too, as well as a nice battle scene. And I still feel that you did an excellent job on the characters. ^^
    Good, I wanted to be solid in my intro of the charachters since the show is going to be all theirs now.

    I think I'll always be amused by the thought of people calling to report, in the utmost fear, the presence of a LITTLE PURPLE RODENT. XDDDD
    BUt it's teeth are so big!

    I like the use of "magnetically" there.
    You know that press!

    Wow. o.o Whatever made Jimmy think that was a good idea? XD
    oh jimmy xD I could not help but mention him and his tale of idiocy


    I didn't jump onto this thread when it was originally posted, but now is as good a time as any. I'd like to be on the PM list.
    rawr, better late than never I spose. Always good to have you around, I preferred your old name though!

    How long I haven't seen good grotesquery I hardly remember, and it was gross fun watching that superb handling of terror once again, the fun being compounded by a similar hatred of immaturity to yours--you never know how 'innocent', 'sweet' and 'pure' small children are until you see first-hand. I particularly liked how you emphasized on the last thoughts of this Kellan, rather than supplying only gore; horror is not properly disturbing until you have something like this:
    Yeah, i didn't want to just kill kids for shock value. I mean, if your gonna kill a kid, you have got to do it tastefully, its just a rule of thumb

    preceding the monster's attack. One must assault the reader both viscerally and morally, of course.
    I had to look viscerally up o_o I do agree with you, though

    And, like before, I really liked Ophelia (I hope she's not suicidal, deep down o.o... were her parents murdered...? Is that why she's single?)
    I have no idea where you pulled those thoughts out from. Or how having dead parents make you single xD

    And I really liked the scene with the Growlithe being put down, really effective, the poor thing. xD
    That Growlithe nearly tore Lawson's leg out in an off-screen scene xD
    A Championship Battle
    FINISHED: Johto's top psychic trainer and the granddaughter of an Elite Four member go head to head for the Silver Cup championship. Features underused pokemon including Tropius, Slowking, and my personal favorite, Jynx



    This story is too fleshed out and completed in my head for me not to finish it. I'm determined to finish my first real, fleshed out fiction. And I'll wait until it's done before posting it. Chapters 6/18.

  10. #10
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    Chapter 2: Stomachs

    It was the Park that killed him…

    There was nothing there.

    He just…died.


    Kyle was but a mere ragdoll to the awful men in the white suits. They tossed him around from machine to bigger machine, pierced his arms with thousands of poisons, and touched him everywhere with their gloved hands. He didn’t look at them, they didn’t look at him. He was too weak to protest, and was only half-aware of what was going on. His mind dwelled on that moment. The moment when Kellan…

    Kyle had come back, realizing Kellan was missing. He was exactly where he left him standing up straight. Blood was drying from his nose. His eyes…they were green as a Politoed as Kyle had always joked. But not this time; they were white. Not white like paper, but the white of purity. White like the light of God. But there was nothing Holy about his eyes. Kyle walked up to his brother, telling him to snap out of it.

    He saw something reflected in the pupils. Kellan’s eyes flashed back to green, and the brothers screamed simutaneously. Something had rushed through Kyle, he could barely feel it but he knew it was there. It was cold. He passed out immediately and when he woke up, Kellan…


    Kyle’s face was splattered in blood. But it was not his own blood.

    There was nothing else there that night.

    Kellan still died.


    Something deep within the pit of Bugsy’s stomach gurgled, trying to crawl up his esophagus and down his front.

    The pictures were horrifying. How could one of his precious bug pokemon do something like this to a child? He had considered the unusual behavior when Jack originally told the story, but the actual pictures slapped him with cold reality.

    When they were soaring ten thousand feet in the air comfortably, Jack pulled out the first one.

    It showed the little boy’s full body, left in mint condition. His white face was left untouched. How Bugsy wished he could say that for the rest of his body.

    The most prominent mutilation was right in his chest. Bugsy could not distinguish anything within the crimson monstrosity. A number of things could have happened, all he could see was an orange shirt shredded to pieces and a chest completely ripped apart. Or torn apart. Perhaps even speared. His left arm was carved with deep slashes, sides crusting in infection. The last of the major injuries was a crushed pelvis. Whatever attacked this kid was big in order to shatter a bone like that. Really big.

    The other ones showed the boy’s body from different angles, turned around, being carried away. There was really nothing new revealed in them, the true horror stemmed from the very first one.

    For a good ten minutes after Jack’s presentation, they didn’t talk. Instead, Bugsy rested his head against the comfortable helicopter chair, waiting for landing.


    One would think a gym leader got paid handsomely, but ever since Lance took over the Kanto-Johto Pokemon League ten years ago, salaries were slashed. His adminstration focused on spreading the versatility of pokemon beyond mere fighters by funding programs for higher usage of pokemon in law enforcement, medicine, and other things. Of course, the hypocrite increased his own salary to a handsome amount, but Whitney didn’t care.

    While the other leaders protested, Whitney continued doing her job. She preferred the simple farmgirl life as opposed to the glamorous life of an elite pokemon trainer. Most of her money before the cut went towards developing the McDonald Ranch. But at the same time, she sure could use a new car. O’Spud as she called him, for his rather dull, potatoey color, would stop igniting soon enough. It was an old Jeep her grandpa always drove her around in. It was a near miracle that it survived for nearly thirty years. With the money they spent fixing it, they could have bought at least two new cars.

    Alas, Whitney would drive O’Spud till it died its excruciating death. As she hobbled down the roads of Goldenrod City, enjoying the fresh Summer, she repeatedly struck the engine, humming gently over the dozens of honking cars behind her.

    She promised to meet Ophelia in fifteen minutes; it took her twenty. O’Spud still had some life in him. Whtiney pulled into the PokéControl headquarters. Unsurprisingly, the parking lot was near full and officers were buzzing about. Whitney didn’t even need to turn the key, O’Spud’s engine gave as soon as she parked. She stepped out and approached the building, acknowledging the few officers that waved to her. The position of gym leader lost much of its prestige in the past decade.

    Because of the corrupt government, the PokeControl Building was relatively simple, a five story brick building with an adjoined equipment and vehicle garage. It looked like a larger version of the dentist’s office down the road. Whitney stepped into the building; the reception hall was crowded with dozens of officers and several of their pokemon reporting for duty. She could tell by the large groups huddling together that many of them were just learning about the National Park attack.

    As the technical PokeLeague Official of Goldenrod City, Whitney often visited the PokeControl and it was usually a lively place rife with people excited about what they did. Today, a certain grave atmosphere was in the room. PokéControl officers dealt with worse situations before, but in an attack of such media craze and public fear, surely the pressure would move to their shoulders. The security guard let her in without identification.

    “Whitney! Over here!”

    Whitney turned to an opened elevator where Ophelia was calling from. Before she could respond, howver, an uproar came from the officers who ran towards Ophelia with a stream of garbled questions. Whitney waited patiently, they would disperse in three, two…

    “SHUT UP!”

    Ophelia’s shrill cry immediately silenced the throng of officers who stepped back. Several of them had eyed Whitney, some with looks of scorn. Whitney cut through them and entered the elevator with Ophelia, the doors immediately closing.

    “Ophelia! It’s been too long!” Whitney hugged Ophelia who returned the embrace.

    “By the love of Lugia, it’s been Hell for the past month, Whitney. You know I would love nothing better than to have dinner at your house. I know Shelby’s enjoying it,” Ophelia responded with a wry smile.

    The two were good friends since childhood. They went on their pokemon journey together, they fought in the Silver League, they were dorm mates in college, and Whitney was Ophelia’s maid of honor in her wedding. With the pressing demands of their careers, however, they saw each other less and began to drift apart. Despite this, their friendship remained strong.

    “And now you have this incident on your hands,” Whitney added as the elevator doors opened.

    “I can’t do this by myself, I need as much help as I can get. The National Park is owned by the Pokemon League, you know they’re going to get involved,” Ophelia sighed, pushing her fingers through her blue bangs.

    “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them,” Whitney reassured, rubbing Ophelia’s shoulder.

    “Let me explain more in the office.” Ophelia briskly broke free from Whitney’s hand and walked down the hallway to open the door to her office. A secretary was situated outside the room, talking angrily on the phone. It was no surprise Ophelia’s office was swamped with calls.

    “I have some important messages for your Ophelia!” the secretary cried from her phonecall, desperately seeking to ease her pressure.

    “Not now, Rhonda. Whitney and I need to talk,” Ophelia murmured before ushering Whitney in.

    The office was small and clean, there was a bookshelf on the right, several filing cabinets on the left, and a desk straight ahead. Ophelia took her place in her desk while Whitney pulled up a chair. The tired PokeControl Officer rested her eyes for a few moments before regaining her composure. Whitney couldn’t help but notice how hard stress had struck her. Despite only being thirty eight, Ophelia already had several bags under her eyes, was beginning to wrinkle, and began to grow gray hairs. She was a proud, beautiful woman, but the stress of leading an incompetent organization was getting to her.

    “Here, I brought you some Deluxe Milk. It’s not supposed to go on the market until June, but I can make an exception for you,” Whitney commented with a wink, handing Ophelia a bottle of sweet milk from her handbag.

    “Thanks, I could use some,” Ophelia laughed taking a large swig of the drink.

    “Being Field Commander is really getting to you, Ophelia,” Whitney said with concern. Ophelia smirked.

    “It’s nothing new to me, Whitney. I was pretty much doing everything back when McCain was in charge as well. That Keebler elf couldn’t squash a Caterpie.”

    “I guess it’ll pay off when you’re finally made chief,” Whitney suggested. Ophelia laughed heartily at this.

    “Please, the only reason Romney’s chief is because he’s nothing but a lacky to Mayor Franklin. I’m the true leader of this force, he just takes care of the politics,” Ophelia sighed. “As much I’d love to continue this treason, we really need to talk about this case.”

    “Right. I watched the news coverage…”

    “Hah! Who did you see? Mr. Ed, Chalinst the Balanced?” Ophelia barked, interrupting her.

    “Nah, the oversized Barbie doll, Eleanor Abercrombie. She claimed the head was cut off and there was no heart. I bet she said something about sexual abuse too.” Whitney smirked, taking a chug from her own milk bottle.

    “Well, she’s half-right. Let me tell you the full story. Now, this really isn’t that serious of a case when compared to other things—“

    “But the media craze, public fear, and the involvement of a government owned area incited Chief Romney to devote utmost attention to this case, right?” Whitney interrupted.

    “You’re a sharp one, Whitney. I’m sure you heard rumors about the night-shift officers leaving to drink?”

    Whitney nodded.

    “Those rumors were correct. The boys entered the Park through a hole in the fence. The older boy was apparently unscathed, and the hospital has yet to report any injuries. He’s not speaking though, the boy is really shocked. He’s the key to the case, but I have no idea when he’ll open his mouth.

    “One of the doctors identified the surviving boy as Kyle Bryan, knowing his mother. The doctor assumed the deceased boy was his brother, Kellan Bryan. We called the mother who confirmed the boys were missing. She identified Kellan Bryan as the boy attacked. He was only six.”

    “That poor, poor woman,” Whitney muttered.

    “My symphathy can only go so far. God forbid I would let Shelby would leave in the middle of the night...”

    “So what did happen to that poor boy?”

    Ophelia gulped down the remnants of her milk, and wiped off her moustache. Sighing, she began to explain.

    “Yeah, I knew I would have to come to this. The attack is rather brutal, his body was slashed and his entire torso was….torn apart. Kyle was drenched in blood when we found him. We’ll know better after the autopsy.” Ophelia was glad to stop speaking.

    “Good Mew! What could do this sort of thing?” Whitney mumbled in shock.

    Ophelia wiped a layer of sweat from her forehead and looked up at her friend pleadingly. Her brown eyes were begging for help, something they rarely did.

    “Whitney, Romney ordered me to be present during the examination. Will you come with me?” Ophelia asked.

    Whitney was slightly taken aback. Ophelia was a stonewall and rarely showed emotion except when around Shelby. Then, she realized why Ophelia was so scared. Kellan Bryan and Shelby were the same age, most likely in the same grade.

    “Of course, Ophelia.” Whitney smiled, taking her friend’s hands.

    Ophelia sighed, looking more relieved. “I’ve got ten officers on this. Three senior officers and a junior officer are in National Park examining the scene and looking for possible pokemon assailants. Two other juniors are driving around town talking to people who knew the boy. Another junior officer is at the hospital, and another at T.A.R.U. The boys had a camcorder on them; it was crushed, but they might have recorded something and T.A.R.U can retrieve it. Jack Weatherby has gone off to fetch Bugsy while Jessica Sudler is keeping the Control stable and on focus.”

    “Bugsy? The Azalea Town Gym Leader?” Whitney asked curiously.

    “Of course. I figured his knowledge in bug pokemon would come in handy. This attack is rather unusual. Don’t like Bugsy?”

    “No! He’s a lovely guy! A bit weird, but that runs in all us gym leaders,” Whitney added with a chortle.

    “Yeah, we need to be going soon. The autopsy is going to start as soon as Bugsy arrives which shouldn’t be too long now. We’ll talk more in the car.” Ophelia yawned, rising from her seat.

    “You sure you can do this?” Whitney questioning, placing her hand on Ophelia’s shoulder again.

    Ophelia scoffed. “Hell yeah.”


    As the helicopter descended into Goldenrod City, a chill went down Bugsy’s spine. Coming from an ancient, traditionalist town like Azalea, he never liked Goldenrod. Too many millionaires and criminals for his liking. Nevertheless, it still continued to be the virtual center of the pokemon league. Some of the best trainers gathered here, rare pokemon were always spotted in the nearby woods, and places like the mall and the radio tower brought pokemon training to a whole new level.

    Cutting through the thick layer of smog, the helicopter began to plunge towards the roof of the PokeControl Headquarters up ahead. From his birds eye view, he noticed how grafitti stained twice as many buildings as they did a year ago. By the looks of the deteroriating buildings, unpaved roads, and the stench of the poor sewer system, it appeared that the city was slowly rotting to death.

    “Alright, just hold on a few more minutes, we’re almost there.”

    “Who was that?” Bugsy asked Jack, who closed his cell phone.

    “Ophelia Hardwell, she’s the highest ranking elite officer. We’re going to accompany her and Whitney McDonald to the medical examiner’s office. Hopefully we won’t have too many interruptions on the way,” Jack responded, checking his watch.

    “Whitney’s involved in this too? And what do you mean by interruptions?” Bugsy asked curiously.

    “Oh yes, Whitney bears the responsibility of maintaining the stability of the Pokemon League in Goldenrod City. And it’s seven thirty now, the morning transit is beginning and the little children are going to school. I’m sure school counselors are stationed all around little Kellan Bryan’s school’s. Death is a nasty business, Bugsy.”

    Looking out the window, Goldenrod City began to explode as the buildings grew larger at an alarmingly fast speed until the wheels of the helicopter finally touched the roof of the PokeControl Building. In a series of banal events of security precautions and paperwork, the two were in the PokeControl parking lot in a matter of minutes where Ophelia and Whitney waited by Jack’s silver Prius.

    “I’m driving,” Ophelia smirked, snatching the keys from Jack’s hand and entering the car.

    “Bugsy!” Whitney exclaimed embracing her peer with rural delight. “Man, you’ve gotten taller than me ya little Caterpie!”

    “You’ve been telling me this since I turned thirteen Whitney,” Bugsy moaned.

    “Love the reunion but we gotta get going,” Jack cut curtly before slamming the front door shut.

    “Name’s Ophelia Hardwell, Chief Elite Officer of the Goldenrod City PokeControl,” Ophelia said proudly, shaking Bugsy’s hand from the driver’s seat of the Prius.

    Her firm voice triggered something in Bugsy’s mind. He looked at her more closely, particularly at her smooth blue ponytail.

    “Shadow Ball!” Ophelia bellowed with an intensity that frightened every single one of the fifty thousand people in the stadium that night.

    She was twenty years younger and there were no lines on this ferocious, youthful face. It was the finals of the Silver League cup, her and some nobody from Olivine City. Down to their last, most powerful pokemon, both trainers were raring to bring an end to the forty minute battle.

    “Defend, Xatu,” the nobody quietly ordered, a hint of boredom in his voice. At seventeen, his hair was already silver white and his face blank. Unlike Ophelia, he remained tranquil throughout the entire battle.

    Ophelia’s Ursaring roared with bloodlust greater than his trainer’s. Throwing his great paws above his head, he ululated madly as black and purple bolts of dark energy crackled between his hands. The sporadic unfettered release of shadow power began to harmonize into one glorious sphere that grew into an unstable, threatening size of a large boulder. The audience members were forced to squint their eyes as the sphere pulsated with incredibly bright purple lights. They awed at the sheer physical power of the Ursaring.

    “Ladies and gentlemen…in all my years of Silver League commentary, I have never, never seen an attack this impressive.”

    Ophelia smirked at the dumbfounded expressions of the thousands surrounding her. But all that mattered was the irrelevant pokemon standing in the way of victory. The Xatu was unfazed at neither the terrifying noises of its opponent or the fearsome attack it was facing. It simply floated still in midair, eyes closed, ornate wings spread out.

    “NOW!”

    The godly Shadow Ball escaped from its master’s grip and rocketed towards the bird pokemon charring the air in its path. Xatu’s red eyes snapped open and wings clapped each other with a deafening boom that overpowered the explosion of the shadow ball. A solid gold barrier immediately materialized in front of the bird pokemon, and the attack bounced off of it like a simple bouncy ball. A collective gasp was immediately hushed by an ear-splitting boom of fury from Ursaring. He reared his right paw back as far as it could go before shooting it back engulfed in the black flames of absolute strength. It met the reflected Shadow Ball and returned it to the unsuspecting Xatu.

    The Xatu stopped fluttering and its beak opened slightly. The quadrupled power of the double-reflected shadow ball soon saturated every single one of his emerald feathers…

    “Ladies I gentlemen, I present to you Ophelia Hardwell, the winner of the…”


    “…1988 Silver League Tournament! I knew I recognized you! You beat the guy who clobbered me in Round 4!” Bugsy exclaimed.

    “Why yes, yes I was,” Ophelia muttered, putting on her sunglasses and shifting the gears to drive. Oh how she missed those days.


    “Bugsy, meet Holden Hunter, National Park Commissioner,” Ophelia introduced, indicating a solemn suited man with a bushy white moustache.

    “We’ve met before, I conduct a lot of my bug pokemon research in the National Park,” Bugsy explained, eagerly shaking Hunter’s hand. Hunter unenthusiastically returned the shake.

    “And this is Sergeant Jenny Jennings, she has been assigned to this case by Goldenrod Police Department to investigate any possible human involvement,” Jack introduced indicating a considerably cheerier police officer with inappropriately bright blue hair and pink lip gloss.

    “Hey! I know you! Weren’t you the same Officer Jenny from Violet City not too many years ago?” Whitney asked shaking the woman’s hand respectfully.

    “Why yes I was!” Sergeant Jennings declared with a grin.

    The six stood outside the Goldenrod City Coroner’s building, waiting to be allowed entrance. The cheery farces of the introduction masked the incredible fear in each of the six’s stomachs of the sight that awaited them. Of them, only Holden Hunter appeared anxious and unwilling to be there.

    A ghastly pale young woman stepped outside to greet them, presenting them with a small container of what appeared to be chalky Vaseline. “Wipe it under your noses. The smell will never leave you if you don’t, trust me,” she warned with an eerie smile.

    She led them inside the building and to the door of an examination room where the coroner and Kellan Bryan awaited them. Each of them surveyed the door as if it was a gate to some awful beast’s lair. Holden was the first to cower, “I don’t feel it is necessary to see the boy’s body. I am not investigating this case; I just need to be kept updated during every step of its progression.”

    “Suit yourself Hunter, just remember that it’s your Park where this atrocity happened,” Ophelia commented scathingly.

    All eyes turned to Hunter who was undaunted. Then, the door creaked open. The necks snapped back to the doorway where a tall, handsome blonde doctor stood. Like Sergeant Jennings, he too seemed inappropriate for the moment, with deep dimples and a rather normal expression.

    “Come on down, folks,” he chuckled, beckoning the remaining five with a wave of his hand.

    Displayed prominently in the center of the room like a grand trophy was the body of Kellan Bryan hidden under a white sheet propped up by its grey table of a pedestal. A fancy, nine foot lamp stood over him shining a blinding light that illuminated the outline of the body. Nearby was a tray of sharp, pointed instruments, some red at their tips.

    They tried to avert their eyes but somehow the eyes always returned to that same spot. The coroner saw this and decided to stand in front of the table when addressing them. “As you know, my name is Gerald Gowitt and this is my tenth year as Goldenrod City’s coroner. Despite what the Eleanor Abercrombie, Chalinst the Balanced, and all of them will try and tell you, this attack is not the most brutal in all of Johto history. On numerous occasions have stupid trainers snuck into Ursaring territory during mating season only to be recovered as mere half-limbs hanging from trees, or swimmers who have wondered into Sharpedo waters and collected as nothing more than a fine pink mush…”

    “Get to the point,” growled Ophelia noting the shade of green in Whitney’s cheeks.

    “Anyways, I’m sure most of you have seen the photographs, correct?” Gowitt asked sharply.

    The five nodded. Whitney’s green flushed brighter. Jack showed her the photographs in the car ride, and she didn’t respond nearly as orderly as Bugsy did.

    “A vicious attack, yes. However, it still does not seem consistent with any creature that lives in National Park. Pinsir’s tend to decapitate…Sycther’s like that too…Beedrill go for the eyes…Heracross like to gore…Gligar also like to decapitate…”

    “We get the point,” Sergeant Jennings angrily interrupted. Her cheery disposition had faded entirely.

    “What about non-bug pokemon? This seems like it could have possibly been done by a wandering Tyranitar or Arcanine…” Bugsy suggested quietly as if Gowitt was the creature who killed Kellan.

    To everyone’s shock, Gowitt hooted with laughter, “Apart from the fact that both those pokemon are incredibly rare and wouldn’t just wander around the Johto country side unnoticed, the National Park guard is very meticulous about controlling the delicate ecosystem of the park and securing its borders.”

    “Securing them to the point where two young boys were able to enter in the middle of the night while the guards were out drinking?” Jack Weatherby demanded, looking flushed as well.

    “Well, I suppose Mr. Hunter will have to answer that for you. Wasn’t he supposed to come too…”

    “Did your autopsy produce any findings?” Whitney bravely sputtered, looking positively nauseous now.

    Gowitt stared at her curiously before smiling. “Indeed it did. Quite interesting ones as well…I suppose the time has come for you to see the body. Let me tell you, if you squirmed at the pictures of the body, the real thing…”

    Whitney stormed out of the room, and Ophelia’s rage rivaled her Ursaring’s twenty years ago. “Can you please maintain some professionalism, Doctor?”

    “Alright, Alright. Let me tell you something though, there is no way you can live through this job unless you have some sense of humor,” Gowitt responded quite simply before abruptly removing the sheet from the body.

    Despite the unexpected move, none of the remaining four twitched. The coroner was right, it was much worse than in the photographs. They stood, transfixed by the scarlet horror in front of them. Some of the mess, the brutality, was cleaned up, but the nauseating wounds on the pure body amplified the sickness in the party’s stomachs when presented a mere five feet away. What was even more horrifying was the way Gowitt casually ran his gloved fingers through the missing chunks of flesh, the crushed bones, the slashes.

    “This boy was lucky. He died of shock before any of this happened,” Gowitt revealed looking at each of the investigators as if daring them to challenge his authority. “But I told you I had a surprise. I examined every nook and cranny of this body—I even furthered my investigation by personally going to the park and corroborating with PokeControl investigators. Our conclusions are the same. There is no evidence that there was a pokemon—or any other party—present during this attack. No fibers, no hairs, no saliva, no bite marks, nothing. Apart from this half-devoured meal, of course.”
    A Championship Battle
    FINISHED: Johto's top psychic trainer and the granddaughter of an Elite Four member go head to head for the Silver Cup championship. Features underused pokemon including Tropius, Slowking, and my personal favorite, Jynx



    This story is too fleshed out and completed in my head for me not to finish it. I'm determined to finish my first real, fleshed out fiction. And I'll wait until it's done before posting it. Chapters 6/18.

  11. #11
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    Ah, nice level of gruesome detail there, especially with regards to what was left of Kellan.

    Nice work as usual on the characters. Gowitt in particular was effing great--I love morbid humor, and that guy certainly brought it. Also, I liked the glimpse given into Ophelia's background with that battle flashback. ^^

    And I was quite amused to see the names "McCain" and "Romney" appear in the text. XD

    Highlights:

    It showed the little boy’s full body, left in mint condition. His white face was left untouched. How Bugsy wished he could say that for the rest of his body.

    The most prominent mutilation was right in his chest. Bugsy could not distinguish anything within the crimson monstrosity. A number of things could have happened, all he could see was an orange shirt shredded to pieces and a chest completely ripped apart. Or torn apart. Perhaps even speared. His left arm was carved with deep slashes, sides crusting in infection. The last of the major injuries was a crushed pelvis. Whatever attacked this kid was big in order to shatter a bone like that. Really big.
    There's some of that nice, gruesome detail I mentioned earlier.

    But at the same time, she sure could use a new car. O’Spud as she called him, for his rather dull, potatoey color, would stop igniting soon enough.
    "Potatoey"... I love that. XD That officially goes on my list of favorite adjectives. Or would, if I were to actually bother to make such a list.

    “It’s nothing new to me, Whitney. I was pretty much doing everything back when McCain was in charge as well. That Keebler elf couldn’t squash a Caterpie.”
    Someone being referred to as a "Keebler elf" always amuses me. XD

    The godly Shadow Ball escaped from its master’s grip and rocketed towards the bird pokemon charring the air in its path. Xatu’s red eyes snapped open and wings clapped each other with a deafening boom that overpowered the explosion of the shadow ball. A solid gold barrier immediately materialized in front of the bird pokemon, and the attack bounced off of it like a simple bouncy ball. A collective gasp was immediately hushed by an ear-splitting boom of fury from Ursaring. He reared his right paw back as far as it could go before shooting it back engulfed in the black flames of absolute strength. It met the reflected Shadow Ball and returned it to the unsuspecting Xatu.

    The Xatu stopped fluttering and its beak opened slightly. The quadrupled power of the double-reflected shadow ball soon saturated every single one of his emerald feathers…
    My favorite moment in the battle scene. ^^

    A ghastly pale young woman stepped outside to greet them, presenting them with a small container of what appeared to be chalky Vaseline. “Wipe it under your noses. The smell will never leave you if you don’t, trust me,” she warned with an eerie smile.
    *shudders* There's another great, nasty detail. I don't think I could ever truly imagine the smell to which she's referring without actually experiencing it myself (which I hope I never do), but my brain certainly tried to imagine it after reading that, and the result was... not pretty. At all. X~x;

    On numerous occasions have stupid trainers snuck into Ursaring territory during mating season only to be recovered as mere half-limbs hanging from trees, or swimmers who have wondered into Sharpedo waters and collected as nothing more than a fine pink mush…
    And there's yet another lovely example of gruesome detail, as well as an example of why I think Gowitt is awesome. XD

    To everyone’s shock, Gowitt hooted with laughter, “Apart from the fact that both those pokemon are incredibly rare and wouldn’t just wander around the Johto country side unnoticed, the National Park guard is very meticulous about controlling the delicate ecosystem of the park and securing its borders.”

    “Securing them to the point where two young boys were able to enter in the middle of the night while the guards were out drinking?” Jack Weatherby demanded, looking flushed as well.
    Oh, snap... XD

    Gowitt stared at her curiously before smiling. “Indeed it did. Quite interesting ones as well…I suppose the time has come for you to see the body. Let me tell you, if you squirmed at the pictures of the body, the real thing…”
    Again, Gowitt is awesome. XD

    There is no evidence that there was a pokemon—or any other party—present during this attack. No fibers, no hairs, no saliva, no bite marks, nothing. Apart from this half-devoured meal, of course.
    More Gowitt awesomeness. His referring to the corpse of Kellan as a "half-devoured meal" is something at which I can't help but chuckle. XD
    Looking for my fics? They're right here!

  12. #12
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    Oh yum. A gruesome mystery story. Something new to these forums...at least from what I have seen. IF there is a pm list................ADD ME! I LOVE THIS STORY!!
    Pokemon Black team:

  13. #13
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    Nice work as usual on the characters. Gowitt in particular was effing great--I love morbid humor, and that guy certainly brought it. Also, I liked the glimpse given into Ophelia's background with that battle flashback. ^^
    I do love planning out Ophelia's background carefully and knowing a lot about her history. Problem is my imagination often runs me of course when I think about how she went to this university and then I start thinking about all the possible majors and minors...

    And I was quite amused to see the names "McCain" and "Romney" appear in the text. XD
    Interestingly enough this was all written when Romney was still pretty obscure like back in 2006

    "Potatoey"... I love that. XD That officially goes on my list of favorite adjectives. Or would, if I were to actually bother to make such a list.
    I took the opportunity to say that word out loud and....wow

    Someone being referred to as a "Keebler elf" always amuses me. XD
    That phrase came from your last review back in the old thread when you called Perot a dusty old keebler elf. I like using politician names

    And there's yet another lovely example of gruesome detail, as well as an example of why I think Gowitt is awesome. XD
    I absolutely loved writing Gowitt! He was so delightfully creepy



    Blah, sorry about the massive delays. I'm dealing with a very boring filler chapter that I just can't bring myself to write. Maybe I should make it more exciting--like have Ophelia randomly take her top off
    A Championship Battle
    FINISHED: Johto's top psychic trainer and the granddaughter of an Elite Four member go head to head for the Silver Cup championship. Features underused pokemon including Tropius, Slowking, and my personal favorite, Jynx



    This story is too fleshed out and completed in my head for me not to finish it. I'm determined to finish my first real, fleshed out fiction. And I'll wait until it's done before posting it. Chapters 6/18.

  14. #14
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    hey im back to the forums, but I ahvent read the new chapters yet. I'll get right on it and I hope the temporary hiatus will soon be over
    ._.

  15. #15
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    I'd be repeating what these people have said if I were to comment (except of course, ten times better...).

    I tend to not read long-chaptered fics, but meh. I've got nothing else better to do.

    Please add me to the PM List, I might also review if I have enough time and energy.

    Oh, and those Spinarak smilies you actually used pretty effectively to establish the scene and bring a bit of insane morbidity to it....



  16. #16
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    I have not got much time to write a really long comment right now but i did enjoy this fic alot and will definitely keep reading in the future.

    I would also like to be added to the pm list.

    Good luck with the next chapter!

  17. #17
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    Oh good, this is back. Good luck with this! ^^

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