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February 20th, 2013 (07:50 PM).
War is Over... If You Want It.
Join Date: Dec 2008
Location: Are you sure you want to know?
Shaun stared hard at the pokeball in his hand. It was nearly dark, and though it had only been a single day, both Riolu and Sableye had grown far more than Shaun had ever thought for a pokemon. These beasts were truly remarkable, but there was still the one beast in particular that he was having a problem with.
Sabley was hunched over at Shaun's side, watching with an eerie stillness that only the dead could replicate. Riolu stood on Shaun's other side, watching solemnly and prepared to deal with whatever was to happen.
With a deep breath, Shaun released the captured beast within.
The bulky figure materialized slowly, and when at last the caged rhyhorn formed completely she fixed angry eyes on the darkly dressed teen. She growled low, a deep baritone rumble that reminded Shaun of earthquakes and rockslides. He was slow in his actions, not wanting to startle the pokemon before him back into the monstrous force he knew her to be.
A heavy tin of pokemon food was slowly poured over, forming a tiny pile. The surprised grunt escaping the beast almost startled Shaun into jumping away though he stayed his ground with an audible gulp. Still, with the same agonizing slowness, Shaun held out his hand, palm up and flat. His arm nearly shook in case there was a sudden lunge to snap off his hand.
Rhyhorn continued to stare suspiciously, blunt toes scratching at the grass and breathing in with snorts and huffs. It had been a while since it had been properly fed. Aside from the one time when Shaun had been unconscious and his pokemon cared for, she hadn't eaten.
Even so, Rhyhorn snapped at the offending appendage, missing by a good distance as Shaun snapped his arms to his chest. Before she had even closed her mouth completely the fighting being and dark creature were upon her, force and spiritual energy doing a great deal more damage than before. Riolu slammed his palms against her side and a devastating Night Shade tore at her mind.
"Ryyy," she moaned, stamping her feet and looking murderous.
"Not this time," Shaun spat, fist still shaking. He could have lost an actual arm in nothing more than a split second. The life of a trainer, Shaun realized, could end within a second, and no one would care because there would just be another trainer to take their place. "These two are a lot stronger than before." Shaun leveled the pokemon a look, expression forming dark sincerity. "You belong to me now," he continued with a growl, "and I can keep you in this ball for a long time. You learn to listen to me and I can grant you freedom, such as food." He nodded at the food by his feet before actually wondering if the rock type understood what he was saying. Weren't these pokemon meant to be a bit on the dim side?
She appeared to understand, strangely, because she was staring at him with a dark look that certainly spoke of retribution as dirt brown eyes glanced between the food and Shaun. With just as much caution as the teen was showing, Rhyhorn took a tentative step forward, nose toward the food.
Once again Shaun held the food up, eyes never leaving Rhyhorn's as the two were within a foot of each other. A large, wet tongue swept out, taking all the food in Shaun's palm and leaving it dripping with saliva. The dark teen grimaced but looked triumphant, stupidly allowing anything but pure blankness to show on his face.
It was in that moment of foolishness that she struck.
It was like a slow motion feature. Shaun could see the intent in her eyes before she even struck. Her eyes narrowed, and in that split second he all but threw himself back. The thick horn easily pierced his skin; a sensation like sandpaper and diamonds rubbing against his skin. If he hadn't had that moment of awareness the simple gash on his side could have easily meant his end. Riolu and Sableye flew into action with fists and claws, outraged the moment it even shifted into position. The beast soon found itself to be on the receiving end of pain, a very different scenario from their past meeting where it was she who had them running or their very lives. Now, her body slumping almost immediately from the onslaught given that she hadn't truly had enough time to get her bearings since he cave, went down.
Shaun moaned, hands pressing hard against his side. The horn had easily pierced his jacket and shirt, leaving a massive bleeding gash that was thankfully shallow. His eyes watered as the pain hit him and he could barely make out a whirlwind of purple dust settled upon the rock beast until a very human voice was coaxing him to return the untamed pokemon to its pokeball.
The city was a place of people; privacy was not something you were going to get, especially if you were in tourist trap areas such as the park. Several trainers who had seen what had happened rushed over, one with a giant purple moth already out of its pokeball putting Rhyhorn to sleep with powder that seemed to come from its massive wings. A few others had called out their pokemon and were seeing if there was anything they could do but seeing as how the trouble was already knocked out and Shaun's wound wasn't life threatening some were already edging away from the scene.
Shaun let out a hallow laugh that ended in a choked moan that he would deny was a cry. Well, that was it for training, he thought dully, and that was it for whatever money he had made because that would surely be gone by the time he was out of the doctors.
ch," he moaned, earning a few chuckles from two of the trainers that were nice enough to escort him a nearby clinic.
Seriously, could there be one day in his journey where he did not get hurt?
The air was filled with intense heaviness of sweating bodies dancing away their broken dreams in the tightly enclosed underground club. The room was dark save the rotating neon lights and the occasional flash of white giving view to the shadowed club goers. Drinks passed from hand to hand, never reaching the same lips more than once and people just sharing in this false moment of unity. When the last bit of alcohol was gone, the music had slowed and the lights had dimmed would the broken trainers that made up this particular crowd go back into their lonely worlds.
High above the dancers, however, were the watchers. Private rooms held the higher class, the better trainers and the richer liquid poison that was never in danger of running out. Drinks were poured just as quickly as the lower level though it didn't linger with forbidden danger or the touch of another set of lips.
One in particular that sat high above the cloudy minds of the lost sipped almost casually at his iced bourbon. The cool liquid left an odd burn at the back of his throat and trailed downwards where it settled with a comforting warmth in his stomach. Ice blue eyes were watching the actions of those down below.
The others company, however, was not so relaxed. A finger tapped agitatedly at the glass drink, alcohol only half gone thought it had been obvious by the melting ice he'd had it for a while. He peered about with an impatience that spoke of just exactly how he felt about this particular settlement.
"I will never know how you find such pleasure in watching those that have already wasted away." Brown hair was swept back only for it to fall back into place of layered locks parted to the side.
That cold look of valuation never once glanced over. "As usual it seems that you have eyes and yet you choose not see."
The young man sneered in return. "And pray tell, what do you see?" He gestured towards the first level of dancers lost within the haze of smoke and their own minds. "Broken beings that do nothing but crawl within their own filth, never looking for more than what they see in front of them?" He then gestured to the upper level where the money and liquor flowed. "Or those that were destined to be among their own, above the stepping stones?"
The other shook his head and downed the rest of his drink in one go. Still as useless and blind as ever. "Considering that your uncle is looking for any person he deemed gifted with talent, regardless of class, and wanted you specifically to be on the look, I'd thought you would be more open minded, Andrew."
Andrew Broderick gave the other a bored glance. "Let's just get down to business. Who was it that you saw that peaked your interest?"
"My interest is in this ever growing war, and those that can be used against it," Eric Stone remarked idly. "Really, your lack of foreplanning is getting both ridiculous and boring. So far your actions lead me to think you will simply use this time given to us to be nothing more than a trainer."
Andrew's face was pure stone, stiff in his anger. "Name, now."
"You know who," Eric said with a careless shrug, arm out and shaking his glass. It was filled instantly and he took a brief sip. He eyed Andrew for only a moment, already bored with the other. "Your uncle wanted names of those to be the mindless drones that fight out of control pokemon, even those on legendary status. You know the rehab reject showed pure talent, and even if he dies early and doesn't make it is simply because there is no one to make sure his talent excels. If he does I guarantee you that he will be a deadly enemy. There aren't many can use the full strength of the title pokemon trainer despite there being tens of thousands. Most mindless followers or simple beings that will never take the next level. Your uncle wants a good weapon? Then take Shaun Tess."
"You can't honestly expect Tess to become any sort of threat." He was incredulous. "He survived off nothing but luck, and it's only one week in. What about the months to come?"
"Some say luck is a skill as well," Eric mused, leaning fully against the black leather couches. "Take him, don't take him, I don't really care." Eric leveled Andrew with a solid look. "Either way, I truly believe he will become a major player in this war. Everyone will be making their move in no more than a year – and oh yea look at that, the boy only has one year to live." Ice blue eyes narrowed. "Even the lowest will do what they have to to survive."
With that he stood, fixing the dress suit cuffs as he did so. "If you believe so," Eric commented, following the others actions. He had been ready to leave the minute he walked in.
"No, I say so." The tone was ice cold to match the look leveled at him. "You may be correct in saying that it is only the first week, but within this first week I already have a better understanding of what is truly needed to be done. Are you going to play trainer, or are you actually going to become an actual player and not a mindless drone?"
Andrew's gaze held a cruel glint in his eyes as he stared Eric down, lip turning upward into a sneer. They didn't say anything for a long moment, the silence challenging. Finally, "You should get rid of that phanpy," Eric said. "It won't keep you or itself alive for even a month on the next route." He turned swiftly and walked out, and if he planned on telling his uncle who to watch out for Eric honestly didn't know.
When he was at last alone Eric pulled out a smooth, silver cell phone. It flipped open in one smooth motion and was already dialing. Eric held it against his ear and breathed in the musky smell of the club. "Hello, Lance."
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