Fanfiction of the Month (November):Dust to Deceit

[Dilasc]

Dust to Deceit

Chapter 1: Food for Hate

?**** it! **** it all!? snarled a voice of rage and anger. The fury seethed in every word as they left the lips of the boy who enunciated them. ?Why, **** it?! Why?!? he cried again as he stamped his foot for the ninth time in two minutes towards the warm grass below him, leaving little noise in his temper tantrum

This boy was Phil Molson, fourteen years old, and filled with a rage he?s never had before. The scowl marred his otherwise decent looking face as in its current state. After all, teeth grinded together, and twisting the very skin into the most angered state possible, while getting redder than a tomato, really isn?t very attractive. Wavy brown hair streaked down towards the top of his neck, and his green eyes deepened to a dark and angry shade, or so it?d seem worthy of belief. By his foot stood short and confused, a sky-blue little creature. Crocodilian in stood its ground on its two legs, and a frown covered its long gator snout, filled with sharp intimidating croc teeth. On its back, small red frill shaped spines stood on edge in fear. It tapped, (bravely) upon the leg of the boy before him, fearful of knowing there would be consequences.

It took but not even a split of a split second to get the response as the boy spun around and exploded like dynamite. ?I HATE YOU!? he shouted as he glared down the Pokemon during the calm before the scorn. ?I HATE YOU SO MUCH!? he repeated, emphasizing heavily upon the word much, as if to leave a brutal truth be known. It ended not there though, as he lifted the creature by the nape of the neck with a forced and tight grasp. ?You?re a worthless piece of trash!? he continued as he proceeded to toss it to the ground like a crumpled up piece of paper.

The pain the small crocodilian beast felt was indeed harsh, but it wouldn?t dare fight back. After all, it knew the cause of the boy?s anger? and thus felt guilty.

Phillip?s anger was indeed understandable to a point. It all started three days ago. He found his sister? dead! Her bloodied, injured corpse attracting flies, and carrion left and right. Where was this all? Right by a cave of many of these blue reptilians and seemingly bigger versions. His eyes caught their glances, and tears of anger began to well in the boy?s eyes. The sight was too much! He could not bear to watch them feast upon his three years younger sister?s remains, which is no doubt what they?d intend to do.

It was extremely saddening news, the death of his sister, heartbreaking in every way, and a river of tears flowed at the funeral that was held back in town the next day. To make matters worse, new trainers would be able to receive starting Pokemon in two days, and Phil?s sister was to be a new trainer. Though his father suggested against it, he sighed and replied, ?Why not? it may take my mind off of it. Maybe I can live her dream for her. Not like I have any dreams of my own.? It was a reasonable logic. You can never live your dreams if you were dead. In his mind though, he knew one fact. ?I just hope I don?t get a stupid, *******ly slime ball creature.?

The day came fast enough however, and trainers went to take their choices. There were three choices in stock for trainers that day. There was the bluish-green quadruped, Bulbasaur. The tinted green, leafy seed upon its back seemed to indicate some verdant power within it.

Next to it, a red-orange, baby chicken stood with beady black eyes and a lithe form shaped like the flame of a lit candle wafting calmly in the wind. Its wings, stubbly and hidden from reality as they were, were too small to enable this creature the gravity defying power of flight. It was no doubt to the sad boy that this was a frying chicken. It looked kind of weak and innocent, but then again, it looked way better than option three.

The last option was? oh goodie! It was a Totodile, the accursed reptilian species of sister murderer! ?I?ll be ****ed if my hands are forced to touch that *******!? he thought, ?Unless I?m ringing its neck?? Realization however struck fast! This Totodile was there! It was there in the cave where they butchered his sister into a snack for their cave! He knew not how he knew, but he did. More than likely, it was the slight widening of the beast?s eyes as it caught glimpse of the enraged boy.

He pulled out of the possibility of a staring contest as quickly as possible. The more he looked, the more he felt inclined to ring his hands around its dastardly neck, ruining his likely chance of pursuing his sister?s dream. ?But Professor Brenetmos knows what happened! Maybe he?d let a violent act slide this once?? he thought with an odd sense of hope. Yes, sweet vengeance would so sing like a soothing melody through his ears.

With a shrug, he decided that he may as well see who else was here with him. The first person his eyes came across seemed to be female, and one with a certain familiarity at that. With her rather pale complexion, she looked about twelve years of age. Her long, lithe green hair cascaded down the back of her neck like an endless field of grass. At the bridge of her small nose were deep pools of mud brown for eyes. For attire was a simple red t-shirt that hid not her slowly growing feminine body, and below, she seemed to wear a knee length skirt. It all appeared itself in a rather short package that vaguely past five feet in height, though she was sitting down, so it was hard to tell.

Yes? she was very familiar. It was Gina Meshing, a friend of his sister. Though he himself had seen her a few times, he had only once seen the girl actually with his sister. That however, was a few years back. Now however, he?d almost be ****ed, but he had to admit, she looked rather attractive, or would be in due time. Yes, quite appealing indeed.

He had once heard, from his sister a few years back that some of her friends liked him. Why anyone would like a slightly overweight, introverted loner was beyond his comprehension. Besides, what the heck should nine or ten year old girls be doing by falling in love anyway.

As she noticed his stare, she smiled, turning away quickly. Yet again, sometimes he wondered just how faux words could be. Seeing after all, was indeed believing.

The other person to be there today looked? quiet. His dark blue eyes seemed to stare with a most unfocused concentration of the absolution of nothingness. To further the strangeness of the situation, his skin was very dark toned. As far as he knew, few dark skinned people ever had blue eyes. Regardless, he was very awkward, and probably someone who?d best be left as an introvert for the entirety of his life.

A sigh escaped Phillip?s lips as he awaited the fate that was to come. ?Well, its either the Bulbasaur or Torchic for me, it is.? The choice between them however, felt tough to make, but thoughts were interrupted as Mr. Wilbur Hamilar Brenetmos walked into the room.

?Ah? well you?re all here.? he smiled. This was a man of intrigue, for most all of Kertonmel?s Pokemon research was dealt with by this very man. Though said to be in his fifties, one could say he were thirty-five, if he simply dyed the whitening spots on his black, curled hair. His mustache was a thick black too, though whitening and age has also given it a grayness about it. His green eyes blinked as he stared over the three youngster who would be receiving startering Pokemon today. ?Ah, where have the years gone?? he smiled as he looked them over. ?Ah, well then. I take it I know why you are all here.? he asked, as all 3 youths nodded, even the one who seemed to stare into space. It was as though that boy?s mind was one tracked, and nothing else even existed at all. ?Ah, Gina. Good to see you.? he smiled to the girl, giving her a firm handshake. And man oh man, this guy had a helluva handshake! The firm grasp, the shake in perfect formation. Wow! If anyone were to be an expert on handshakes, then this man would be it. Of course, he studied Pokemon instead. Still, the intensity of the skill in that formal greeting was obviously too good for the girl.

?Hi.? she smiled. Her voice seemed calm as if she knew him well. He smiled and turned then to the introvert.

?And you I presume are Mitchell Parson.? he smiled, ?It is good to meet you.? he paused ?Uh, hello?? he repeated again, vying for the boy?s attention.

The boy stared up at the man and nodded, ?Eh? Oh, yea, hi.? he spoke quickly, and in rather reclusive manner, as though he thought less is more, and people were meant to be avoided.

He finally turned his attention to the boy. ?Ah, Phillip Molson. I heard the bad news.? he said with a frown. ?Sara was truly a good person, if not sometimes a klutz.? he chuckled, for half a second, before snapping back to reality. ?Oh, I?m sorry.?

?Eh,? Phillip said, falsely enthusiastic. ?Don?t worry yourself with it.?

The professorial man simply let it drop, no use bringing up more sad endings on a day of supposedly new beginnings. ?Well, since your choice to take this up was very recent, I?m afraid that you?ll have to go last.? he said.

With a shrug for a response, the professor continued. ?Well then,? he smiled as he went on to explanations of sorts. Descriptions about each Pokemon were brief and hardly enlightening. All the while the odd, and zoned out Mitchell seemed to be picking at his fingernails with? well, other fingernails. Especially interesting were the positive things he had to say about Totodile. Well, it was interesting in a what the hell is this guy thinking sort of way.

?Yea, wonderful choice! I love murder cases!? blurted Phil in sheer spite, deep venom spewed from each and ever lingering syllable. This of course, caught him the stares of all 3 people in the room. He himself had been shocked by the fact that he had dared to interrupt, and a slight flustering discomfort formed in a deep red shade upon his face and cheeks. ?Uh, never mind.?

?That boy really believes that?? the Professor pushed back these sad thoughts as he proceeded. ?Anyway, Gina. You?re up first.?

?Yup, as I thought?? he shrugged. The two people?s turns seemed to come and go, Gina taking Bulbasaur, that weird introvert taking the Torchic. Wait a second! That didn?t sound good. ?Oh god no! Please, oh please don?t tell me! God let me die right here, so long as I?m not murdered by black hearted crocodiles! Please, PLEASE don?t let it be so!?

?Well, Phil, it seems that, uh, elimination has made selection easier for you.? the professor smiled. He stood up and brought towards the boy a blue colored Pokemon. ?Congratulations to you all!? the professor smiled.

Phil however, nearly snapped. His mind?s eye saw his sisters dream dissolve as though it were cotton candy in a pool of water, shattering like a great vase of very high value. He had failed his beloved, dearly departed sibling. He could not fulfill her dream with the use of a murderer!

 

[Banov]

This is a pretty cool beginning! A boy is stuck using a pokemon that murdered his sister....this has a lot of potential!

Bravo! :D

 

[Charlie]

Interesting...
*sits on the couch and waits for more*

 

[Dilasc]

Thank you all. I am glad this is well liked here. More chapters will come in due time, but a break in the action first to introduce a faction that may confuse and baffle you. The Orbital Occult! What does this have to do with the rest of the story? You'll see, you'll see.

Dust to Deceit

Interlude 1: A Copernican Complex

Dressed in a hooded green robe, a man stood by an altar in the middle of a dimly lit room. The source of this light was a holographic projection of the solar system, with planets, asteroids, and satellites of scaled, yet accurate sizes, with the earth the size of a fist, and the sun as large as a door. White mist swirled about this man as a look of deep meditative concentration filled his eyes, and protected his mind from any disturbances.

All in all, this was a common practice for a member of the Orbital Occult. Considered a shunned religion of sorts, due to its strange pathos and even more peculiar ethos, it is considered on par with the like of satanic cults. Rather than relying on an all knowing deity, or leaving their fate in the hands of mythical beasts, the Occult has followed a path far greater, far larger than the simplicities of Earth.

The power of the Occult came from the sun, lunar satellites, and the planets. All in their most brutal, and scientific truths. As such, Venus is no land of love, for the harnessed power from Venus is that of the greenhouse and the noxious cloud. For Neptune, there is no water. For Neptune, the power of immense, speedy wind was the calling.

Most members and followers feel a need for answers, of the universe, life, themselves, and a greater purpose far beyond the control of a monotheistic deity, and definitely beyond the power of actual Pokemon themselves. What better power than some of the largest entities in the known universe.

The man looked upwards, gazing directly into the holographic sun that was straight above him. He raised his hands, and with clenching and unclenching of his fists, he began to speak rites of solar summoning. Calling upon the Great Orbital Defensive, the only GOD the Occult truly had to worship.

?Great nuclear reactor in the sky,? he began, ?bringer of daylight, heat, life, and skin cancer!? He took a pause as his left hand touched the hologram, making it losing its holographic intangibility, causing it to be solid and whole. ?Ultraviolet, and Infrared combine! I beseech the Sun!?

As he spoke the words, the sun disappeared from the holographic placement, causing the room to dim slightly, before it appeared, smaller, but still just as bright, rotating around the man?s hooded head. The wrinkles of his face could be seen, as could his fading hair, that was just far too yellow to be considered blonde, his eyes empty of all but their whiteness, and a few red lines as he sat in trance and deep concentration.

The mist at his feet calmed, as the man?s breathing picked up for a few seconds to catch a pause. Then, a few seconds later, he resumed, ?Next I seek our sister planet,? the man yelled to the empty air, ?I call upon the volcanic bed, and noxious swirl of our closest neighbor!? His hand reached out and grasped the holographic image of a swirling brown, almost the exact same size as the Earthly hologram. ?Morning Star, Evening Star, lend me the essence of Venus!?

With that, the Venus hologram disappeared, and without any noticeable dimming, joined the sun in revolving his head at a shrunken size, though far less to scale compared to the Sun.

?Now!? he yelled, not taking a breather, ?I seek the great gas giant!? he yelled, ?Keeper of the red, and stormy trademark, thrice our planetary size!? his hands reached up for a very colorful hologram that seemed as big as a large beach ball. Save for a single red spot at the bottom edge, which spun every so often, the planet was a spectacle of peach, orange, pink and white. Around it ?I summon the keeper of the Galileans, the tumultuous sulfur, the watery core, and the two giants!? At this, smaller spheres became visible around the colorful sphere. The one closest to the ball of red was the most colorful of all. It was mixed with yellows, and reds, and whites, and was perhaps no bigger than a pinky. Slightly further away were three more spheres, their color was a simple dark brown. ?Puller of asteroids, I desire Jupiter and it?s Jovian satellites! Io, Ganymede, Europa, Callisto.?

At this, the giant beach ball and its four satellites swiftly disappeared, and began to revolve around his head, of course, at a much smaller size, the four Galilean satellites revolving around the small Jupiter at about the size of a few grains of sand.

With that, the man broke his focus, and in his eyes, the natural brown faded back into existence, surrounding a black pupil. ?Now, show me the way to Gretkan.? he said, ?I beseech the power of some of our mighty planets to bring us a path to the giant planet of life! Open the worm hole of space and time, and let me scry the future!?

At that, a vortex in front of his face appeared, and illuminated the room with bright, mystical light appeared in front of him in a swirling, sky blue vortex. Within, a vision of a creature was seen. The creature had the shape of a gas pump, with four gas pumping ?arms? freakishly enough, and had a swirling vortex of purple and green swirl about in every which way, and atop that central gas dome, a singular, yellowish-green eye sat, on an eye socket attached by a simple cord.

?Vortexaco!? the man gasped in realization, ?The gas master who can rip a big one to break the bounds of time and space. Of course!? He smirked, ?With this godly creature?s help, I can build a portal to Gretkan, and build a new civilization on an inhabitable, and humongous planet, nearly the size of Jupiter!?

With that, he laughed a laugh that sounded a mix between ecstatic and maniacal. This was his chance, his fate, and destiny! It was written in the stars of the Occult?s future, to escape earth and eke a new life on this colossal planet.

 

[Dilasc]

From the Dust of Deceit

Chapter 2: Dile M for Murder!

?Now, before you go, you might wish to pick up some essentials right here and now.? it was Mr. Brenetmos. ?As for you Mitchell,? he looked to the dazed out, dark skinned boy ?I think you?d best be going.?

The boy nodded, and with nay a word strode slowly towards, then out the door. A certain sense of creepiness seemed to disperse from the air as he left, for his lack of contact with the seemingly real world seemed all but disturbing.

?So? what was with that kid?? Phil wondered. Despite the vengeance that weighted down on his mind like five tons of finely mason crafted bricks, he simply had to know what gave.

?Mitchell, well, the boy has ADD.? Brenetmos sighed. It was a sad fact of life. Pokemon and humans alike could oh so suddenly come down or be born with a mental or physical debility.

?Advanced Dungeons and Dragonites?? he asked, ?That hardly sounds bad. I mean I?m not a fan but if?? he was cut off, as the mustached man began again.

?Attention Deficit Disorder.? he said, and Phil oh so suddenly nodded in understanding. He knew what that meant.


?Uh, Mr. Brenetmos,? went Gina in confusion, ?Would he really be, uh,? she paused, a word like sane or stable would just sound wrong, ?Would he be, uh, ?ok? enough to go out on his own.?

?He isn?t.? the man replied calmly, yet in the least bit happy. ?His mother suggested he have himself one in order to help him out. He isn?t going to be adventuring at all.?

?So that means? it doesn?t matter what Pokemon he has! ****it!? Phil growled at this realization. ?Maybe I can still catch him and switch! I can get rid of this murderer and be done with it?? he blinked? Busted! Caught! Exposed! Abort Mission! ?Uh, I mean to say?? he trailed. He couldn?t find the words for the situation. He was caught bloody red handed and the vengeance had yet to be even remotely fulfilled.

Mr. Brenetmos however, looked stern as he heard the boy. His expression was of even more utmost seriousness than before, and his words rang with a sense of command. ?Say no more.? he said firmly. ?I?ll talk with you about this later, Phillip.? he then added quickly as his eyes narrowed upon the youthful boy, ?Alone!?

?Uh, ok.? he shrugged. ?Bide your time and your revenge shall be as sweet as a chocolate ice cream sundae bursting with fudge brownies and creamy marshmallow sauce. Patience is a virtue, and I?ll soon have that savory sundae.? his mind was happy with the thought. The anticipation was hard to resist, but what had to be done was done. For now, he?d wait, for he loved chocolate, and anything better, had to be worth the time.

Brenetmos made things clear as he went on to provide the basics for starting trainers. A few Pokeballs, a Pokedex. It should, for those who know, be obvious, that these are the basics that every trainer receives when at their ?Lab of Origin?. Mind you, it was nary a long explanation. The time spent was mostly finding the Pokeballs to provide for trainers.

?Well then.? went the professorial man as the two kids were all geared up. ?I guess my work is done.? he exhaled greatly in relief, making the room smell of odd odors. ?What happens from hereon is up to you.? he said, as if a riddling prophet was in his heart, soul, and mind. ?If you don?t mind? I believe I need to speak to you alone Mr. Molson.? he eyed Gina. ?I?m sorry Gina, but I hope you understand.?

With an understanding nod, the girl with green hair was on her way. Once she was out the door, and shut the door, the scientific man looked at Philip. ?It seems you are angry about something.? he began, as he addressed the boy in a counseling manner. ?Care to explain?? he asked in false wonder.

?I?? Phil thought, carefully considering his next words extra carefully. ?Just didn?t want the Totodile.? his shifty eyes betrayed the honesty of his words. But he was transparent to the professor long before he arrived to the lab all together.

?I thought you were not one to lie.? the professor shrugged, sighing afterwards as he moved on. ?Getting to the point, I know you feel that this thing killed your sister.?

This infuriated the boy. How he knew, he knew not. He would **** well be finding out, if his anger could be kept under wraps. ?It did!? he exploded! ?I saw it with my eyes! It?s an abomination!? he stamped his foot in thunderous anger and would have cracked the earth open if he had the might of a god.

?I?m afraid your anger is fueled by a false lead.? the man replied. ?Working in the field of science and medicine isn?t specialized right from the start.? he added. ?I helped the examination of the body. The way she apparently died was not the cause of this creature.? he said, ?Let the Totodile out of its Pokeball. I think it too should know all this.? this was not a suggestion.

With an extreme game of mental warfare with his conscious, Phil hesitantly unleashed the aquatic reptile. ?Ok, so now the killer is in the open!? he remarked.

Brenetmos however, ignored the snide words, and instead opted to continue speaking. ?You think fate is being cruel and unjust.? he explained. ?But truth be told, I planned you to get this creature the whole time.?

?Wh? WHAT?!? he nearly exploded five times worse than before. His eyes went wider than a football with pupils bigger and more thunderous than bowling balls. ?You? you traitor!? he blurted. He felt not only vengeful, but now he was deceived, betrayed, and backstabbed! ?I feel the urge to kill you too, but you?re not the murderer!? he bellowed in rage, tears nearly forming in watery eyes.

?Your anger is understandable. However, I assure you that this creature isn?t a murderer.? the professor explained as calmly as he could under this pressure. ?Trust time, Phillip, to reveal all things.? he explained. ?I know you will see the truth. You may likely never find the true killer, but finding false alternatives will not help the matter in the least!? the mans face was flustered from the burning heat of the room. It was after all, nearly Summer, and living on an inland nation meant blazing heat. ?I?m sure your sister wouldn?t want you to kill an innocent.?

?Fine.? sighed Phillip in defeat as he picked up the Totodile by the nape of its neck and began to walk. As he escaped the sight of the sagely Pokemon expert, his grip tightened, and his words were quiet, yet angry. ?Your life is going to be hell beyond the one you?ll begging for in afterlife!? he roared silently. It seems, like the many teenagers of today, a word goes in one ear and swiftly tries to escape via the other. ?I don?t care what they say! I saw you and all your dastardly kin!? he glared the sharpest cutlery in existence as he did. He didn?t care, those glared blades would become real agonizing pain for the reptile?s leathery blue skin soon enough. The creature was verily returned to its ball, lest its most vile sight make him sick to his stomach.

Opening the door to the outdoors was a sudden change from the dimly air conditioned laboratory. His parents were outside waiting for him. His mother, much similarity could be seen in appearance from eyes to hair color, between her and him, but the facts were obvious that gender meant difference. In current state, her eyes were overflowing with worry. ?NO!? she nearly shouted. ?I will not lose my remaining child so soon!? she screamed, her eyes were overflowing with tears of tragic sadness. Her sadness was too much. ?You?re not going!? she scolded.

That, of course is where pops chimed in. In every way the image of his father, the only differences between son and father were hair color, eye color, and the absence of bodily adult graces, like hair growth akin to an abominable snow yeti. This man was Richard Molson. ?Gloria, honey. Please?? he sighed. Women, they could be a hassle beyond the belief of the mysteries of the universe, but they meant well most of the time. She however, would hear no more, but was in no mood to fight over it. There had been enough bloodshed by far, and one never knows what happens, though it was extremely doubtful that any lash outs would exist.

With a sigh, the fatherly one looked to his son again. ?She?s just worried about you, my son.? he said with honesty, ?We both are.?

?Oh, uh, I?ll be? fine.? he struggled. He wouldn?t dare say ?Don?t worry pops! I?m just going to take my sister?s killer into the woods flay it alive and make nice (though blue) gator-skin goulashes, just for you. Happy Father?s Day!? Such words would likely be wrong.

?I hope so.? he sighed to his son with concern, ?So, what Pokemon did you get?? he asked, changing the subject, a certain tinge in his voice most hidden would suggest that the question was almost rhetorical.

?It?s a Totodile.? the son replied. The was no enthusiasm or distastefulness in his voice. It was as though he didn?t care. Truth be known, he hated the creature more than anything in existence.

?Ah, yes? as Wilbur told me it would be?? his glance became serious. ?Yes, I know all about this, son.?

?Great?? his tone was thick with extreme sarcasm. ?And what is your lecture, father?? he asked.

?There is none.? he was after all a reasonable man, ?A lecture would just be wasting both of our time as it travels in and out of your ears the instant I say it. I will however warn you that if you do hurt this innocent creature, I will never consider you my son again.? his tone was serious, yet lacking of anger. It almost scared Phillip when his father talked like that.

?But dad! It?? he was interrupted. His father, apparently, had not completed his soliloquy of grand importance.

?Killed my beloved daughter? yes, that is what you believe. I however doubt that to the extreme. I would bet my life and football watching on that,? that was big. Richard, like most adult men, was enamored with the sport of football. ?And that is not a joke either.? he added with true honesty.

The boy sighed, how could he dare say no to his own father. ?Alright?? he trailed, his eyes shifting in every which direction to avoid eye contact.

?I know you?re likely ignoring every word I say. You?re young, you think you?re right. I know, I was your age once, forty-one years ago.? he began. ?I?m sure even punishment as extreme as that which I?ve said cannot sway your mind. However, I know that time will each you best. I?m sure you?ll learn to see the truth, and your zealous hate will soon be quelled.?

The only response he received was a low grumble from his son as he kicked a rock along the sidewalk to occupy his complex mind.

?Regardless, if that?s not enough for you, then I?m sure your sister wouldn?t approve of such action. Losing it all before you could even begin.? yes the riddling nature of complexity never ceases.

A vision rushed the lad?s mind. It was a sight of death. Before him was a cave filled with blue gators lying dead in a river of their own water and blood. At the center he was, his mouth foaming like a rabid beast as he craved for more vengeance. Truly this wasn?t villainous, was it? Yea right! A murderer deserves no right to life. After all, life was a privilege, a blessing. Taking one?s own life, suicide was a matter of choice. But taking the life of another was plain wrong. All it was, was life for life. Wasn?t that a fair trade?

But such thought brought up he whole circular cycle of life, and one of man?s greatest conquests, the food chain. But that?s making use of what one kills. Though had there been nay a bloody, corporeal trace around, as several blue gators feasted upon his sister?s remains, he?d probably be just as furious. No, he?d daresay, be even more loathsome and hell-bent towards the inquisition of their species in the fullest. An utter conquest of blood and water, both not nearly as thick as the barrier to the reasons against such preposterous ideas.

His father rubbed softly at the tip of his brow, wiping away a few trickling beads of forming sweat. ?Your mother, of course, knows nothing about this. I?m afraid she wouldn?t take it very well.? he added to brighten the mood. It was probably the most positive thought both men had vocalized all day. Well, that is of course until, ?Now, why not just quit your worrying for at least an hour and make peace at the very least for one last meal with your family for what may be quite a while.? he licked his lips in anticipation. ?I know how much you love when your mother makes meatballs, and I?d be more than inclined to agree.? he smiled.

Women, were after all, efficient in the field of cooking, and the horns of war could wait for one last hearty meal. ?Dad, I?d love to.? he smiled. It was after all, going to be a rough beginning, with a very likely chance that the reaper would be dragging some creeps down to hell.

 

[Charlie]

Another great chapter! :D I want to know what that interlude has to do with the rest of the story. I'm sure it will all come clearer as this story goes on.

 

[Banov]

Mmmm, this is as good as the first chapter!

Bravo, again! :D

 

[Breezy]

**** sensors! :P Man that intro would of been more impactful without it . . .

Even though I don't think I ever commented on it it at the "forbidden forum" in the old version, I absolutely heart this fic. Its irony, its characters, the way you weave words into a cold hearted reality.

*happy sigh*

I'll review better later. I think.

LaTeR dAyZ!

 

[Dilasc]

Man, revising this helps me prove how AWFUL I used to be. I don?t even know how or why people considered me to be... good. Descriptive I can see, but man, metaphoric abuse was abundant Anyway, another chapter refurbished and ready to go live, hopefully I didn?t miss anything too severe.

Dust to Deceit

Chapter 3: Day of Our Lies

A batch of mother?s delicious meatballs clears away sorrow and despair. It was the way of delicious food as their taste compels people to go back for more and more, until it was too late and a queasy feeling would envelope you in its cunning, viral grasp. But, such was the same with any addictive force, for everything has its deadly price.

?Well Phillip.? is mother smiled weakly. Her notion of outliving her other son was none to pleasant. ?I know it?s wrong to tell you not to go, but be careful.? It was not at all a question.

?I?ll be fine mom?? the boy replied. His mind began to wander again. A feeling of guilt washed over him as though he had been hit by a typhoon. His eyes squinted as their gaze fixated down to the floor. The eyes were a gateway to the soul, and he didn?t want his mother to see the taint that haunted his.

?Relax dear ? replied Richard. ?I?m sure he?ll be just fine.? he stared at his son. ?Nothing bad will happen, now will it?? he asked his son. The way he asked was sharp. Though fortunately his mother did not catch on, Phil was ****ed sure he knew the implications clearer than crystal, heck, they were clearer than a transparent screen door. All that the boy could muster was a nod.

As Phil glanced oh so quickly at his parents his eyes nearly watered. He would not want to break their hearts, but would keeping theirs unbroken mean leaving his to rot and bleed? It would be a pain that would not go away. ?I guess this is? good bye.? he spoke. Humanity still held its grip on his sanity.

?Take care of yourself.? his father spoke, his eyes lighting up as a ray of hopeful thinking struck his brain. ?And if worst comes to worst, just remember to let your Molson do the talking.? he grinned.

And the young Molson could not help but chuckle at his father?s words. As useless as advice as it was meant to be, the function was clear: laugh a little

Yet, indeed it was a little, as he quickly strode forth from his house, and into the sunlight?s glaring heat. He quickly slammed the door behind him. Revenge was nigh, no matter the cost It was no longer even about his sister?s departure to the afterlife That had long since drowned itself out in a river of bloodlust.

?Adults?? he murmured grumpily to himself as he walked along the soft dirt road, kicking random rocks as he went, ?They think I?m a some sort of insane, senseless jerk ? he mumbled. His kicking became more angry, and as such was backed with more and more force, forcing the dirt to fly up in front of him, creating a dusty cloud that oh so slightly blocked his vision with tan sand, though his pants and shoes were cakes with the tan colored sand.

His eyes wandered ahead. The lush pine trees and ferns surrounded him with a sight of greenery. Amongst them, flowers and plants of red and more splashed a nice blend of forest calm. Surely this was a place of peace, and its serenity would be not disturbed.

The scent of the forest was much invigorating as the chirping of birds and the noises of other animals also rang out in the forest?s natural symphony of life. ?How lively?? spoke the Molson boy aloud and to himself. ?And yet, back a mile away, in Hallsburg, I feel unchanged.? he shrugged.

Distanced from home at last He was gone from Hallsburg now, but just because home was not so far behind, Phil wouldn?t quite feel safe to commence with his plan just yet. Perhaps, a mile or so deep into the safety of the woods would bring the perfect spot, set just right for revenge.

As he walked, he noticed something that perked his interest. The hissing of angry voices perked his eyes to follow, and a vision of two purple mice playing tug of war with? something. He did not know what.

Their teeth, sharp and long were deeply sunk into each an end of the long object as they seemed to growl between one another. ?Rattata?? he noted quietly. They were a common kind, but in no way pitiful beings. Their sharp teeth and lithe forms meant that they could be a dangerous force. ?Why couldn?t I have gotten one of those?? he nearly yelled to nobody at all.

It was at his voice that mice and man were now staring face to face. That was of course, until the timid, purple rodents jolted off at lightning speed to the sanctum of the shrubbery. Phil however, simply smirked as he looked to the discarded object they dropped when they fled? it was rope, simple every day rope, but there was a slight crimson to its tint? blood. It was dried of course, but at this point in time, Phil did not care.
?Weird?? he noted as he thought he could use it. ?A perfect thing to strangle a killer. Ha ? he grinned.

His trekking continued shortly after, and at not but a mile?s distance, a small splotch of thick foliage felt oh so right for blood and glory. So out with the iron sphere, the prison where a criminal monster was stored, had opened, never to be used again.

The gator on its freedom glanced cautiously around it. Trees, plants, vegetation, all seemed such a pleasant sight, if it weren?t for the scowl on the face of the angry human before him. As he grabbed forcefully on the creature?s neck, his eyes flared wild with searing hate ?I hate you?? he spoke, calm yet angry. His other arm, extended to slap the creature in the side of its jaw large. It felt empowering to say the least.

The Totodile, on the other hand, recoiled as the physical attack made its contact. It did no scream. It did not cry. It simply stayed quiet as its eyes downcast to the grassy road went soft and sad.

?Murderous scum ? Phil sneered His voice was filling with volume as his grip began to tighten around the creature?s neck. Though the gator?s mouth went wide, desperately trying to fill its being with oxygen, it did not scream. On the inside though, it was desperately, and deeply afraid. Afraid for its life? afraid for its trainer?s life.

?You sicken me so much, demon ? his teeth gnashed. Had he tried, he could have bitten though a rock he was so angry. Hatred flooded his brain in a rush of agony. How lovely it would have been to ring this creature?s neck. Had it not been for the words of his father though, he?d have long since been finished.

Instead, he opted for a mere violent toss to the ground with whatever strength his not so toned form could muster. Sufficient to be said that when you?re hardly two feet tall, its not difficult to make a scratch, as small as it may be. It was the heart and soul that hurt the blue creature the most on its landing.

Phillip?s eyes did their ****ed best to staunch the likely to occur flow of tears.

?Well?? Phil began as if expecting something to happen. ?Go on. Get out of here ? his voice roared with anger mixed with the agonizing overpowering of peace Go home to your murderer?s cave,? he sneered at the beast. ?Get out of here before I change my mind ?

The blue one looked upwards towards its trainer. It looked at him with concern, with fear, with pity, with hope, but it did not see the human as an enemy. No, he was mislead, and found the wrong killer. The Totodile, could have spoken the human tongue would have told him everything, especially about the real killer. Alas, the best it would do is just chant its name in a raspy voice and piss him off.

On the other hand, it DID value and cherish its life, apparently amongst the wilds as it had been oh so recently. It knew the ay home. It was not far to the river cavern, and the forest was simple to navigate. Its pace however, was slow, its clawed reptilian feet dragging themselves forcefully through the soil, sullen look upon its face as though in a last ditch attempt, pity would bring softening heart.

But the Molson avenger was not bought by the act in the least. ?I cannot stand the sight of you ? he yelled in harsher tones every time. A pebble made its way into his hand ?Move faster ? he yelled again as he tossed the tiny mineral, striking the gator in the back of the neck, causing the creature to go into panic as is retreat became speedy, kicking up grass as its movement kicked up dirt and grass, leaving Phil, at long last, alone.

Finally, he had been rid of the creature. But to what avail? He knew not. ?It?ll kill again. But it better not kill anything I know, or there will be no more warnings.? Phil mumbled quietly as he took some time to think about whatever he could. Ideas, memories, and recent events all raced through his mind, vying to consume his thoughts in more peaceful ideas.

The first to succeed were memories of hi sister. Sara Tanya Molson? she would be missed. The better of two siblings, she was smart, social, funny, forgiving, and always supportive. She had a curiosity that was never matched, and he knew she would go to help Mr. Brenetmos around the place, just because she was into animals. It was likely how Brenetmos knew correctly when he said she was a bit of a klutz, but in no way was she hazardous. Yes, she had flaws, one of which was a horrible secret that Phil never mentioned that he knew.

Though he never remembered exactly how he figured it out, he did well know that Sara was a bit of a, believe it or not, lesbian. ?I still don?t know HOW I know that. She?s only 12 ? he chuckled. The laughter for a second lightened the hefty feeling weighing his heart down like a scale without balance. Fact is though, when you?ve lost someone, its almost impossible to start out by dwelling on the bad.

It was she who knew about Pokemon, not him. Phil knew little beyond the simple facts. It was she who was meant to be trainer anyway. He sighed, ?Even if all went well, I?d still have failed her almost indubitably.?

He needed to sit. His mind then wandered to this morning. How he was there, not Sara, waiting upon hopefully to take her dream far. There was also Gina. Yes, Gina Meshing, friend of his sister. How on earth had he rarely seen her before? Yes, he would hope to lay eyes on her again. He smiled, if not for a second, for following this thought was Brenetmos.

Yes, well respected, intelligent Mr. Brenetmos? was a scheming, conniving devil. He set Phil up, he did. His insane plans were beyond foolish, and doomed to fail. By doomed to fail, that of course meant doom the victim to failure. It made him wonder, ?What if I got a good Pokemon?? he thought. ?Like a Rattata.? Why not a Rattata? Though said to be small and frail, they were quite perseverant little beasts with their adaptability to almost any environment. The fangs they sported didn?t look weak by any stretch of the imagination.

In short time, something else caught his eye, for flying in a blur of feathery grace was a brown, though small bird. As it soared carefully between the trees, it cawed out a word, presumably its name. ?Or maybe a Pidgey?? Phil resumed his thoughts. He knew of these birds. They were everywhere, sort of like how Rattata were all over the place as well, but Pidgey were less cowardly, with their tendency to perch on telephone poles, fences and wire cables. At any rate, it?d have been better than the, accursed gator that he was given

While Phil mulled around deep in his thoughts, Gina was trudging another neck of the woods (literally), her mind hardly weighted down by much. She was, after all, free. Free of the pain at home, and the misery of quarreling parents. Only the biting insects posed any form of true irritation.

As she smiled to the graceful songs of birds and beasts, the light in her heart did nothing but conceal an awkward onlooker as he watched from behind the shrubs. ?Ooh, another girl ? the voice?s owner smiled as he watched her approach the river. The voice?s owner laughed a most freaky laugh. It was as though the possessor of the voice was on some form of illegal substance abuse. ?Whee ? Somehow, there was an extremely obvious lack of sanity in whoever this person was.

It was then, that the person made its presence known. It was, without a doubt, male. Towering over the girl, his eyes seemed to wander everywhere, his smile seemed to stay locked in a most frightening smile that was definitely not quite a smirk. But his voice, it sounded as though it lacked any form of restraint in its words, and his actions seemed just as unstably random. ?Hello girly ? he spoke, startling Gina from her peace. His face was indeed adultly, though distorted and contorted with pierced eyes, ears? almost everything had an earring in it. His freakishly unstable smile widened as he roared into his psychotic laughter yet again.

Phil smiled. It seemed he may get a chance to continue even without the Totodile, for an blue creature with a grassy green hairdo had drawn in close. That is of course, until a scream of terror filled the air, followed shortly after by the panicked flight of birds flapping madly into the wild blue skies as the shout?s echo flooded through the trees. The blue creature too, had made itself scarce as well. ?Oh no ? Phil?s mind began poisoning itself yet again with vengeful thought. ?Those murderous gators are going to kill another person ? Another scream rang his ears yet again, though this one seemed to be cut off forcefully. All he could do was follow the sound.

?Hey ? yelled as his scouring proved successful. It was by chance after all that this seemed ****ed close to where those Totodile lived like killers.

But the watery beasts were not the source of this problem. Instead, he saw what appeared to be a man pierced all about his body. His hair wild and spiked. ?Lookie ? the wackjob spoke ?A witness to be destroyed ? he spoke, proving that optimistic feelings could be anywhere ?Hahahaha ? and then went his laugh. Phil had to cringe as he heard it. It sounded so horribly freaky, and oh so wrong.

To the left on the floor side was, he couldn?t believe it, ?Gina ? yes, it was Ms. Meshing. She was tied at the legs, and her hands were behind her back. Her mouth seemed to be gagged. ?You ? he yelled to the man. ?What the hell are you doing?? His mind was overflowing with worry and fear. He had seen enough deaths of people he knew. Phil would not let this freaky man kill her if

?Me?? the wacko asked, feigning innocence that failed in an instance. ?I?m just Jimmy ? he shrugged. Again, he proceeded to laugh in his more chillingly feminine, insane voice. ?I?m only having fun, playing shoot and stab with my latest catch.? he spoke with pride, foolishly. It was then that Phil noticed the gun in his hand.

But the Molson looked on in worry. ?You?re insane ? he spat with immense hatred. He then remembered the rope he held. Could it have been possible?

Jimmy the nutcase let his eyes widen. ?Ah, so my last fun catch was related to you. Ooh How ? he smiled in a the freakiest admiration ever seen. ?I guess this means more fun for me.? and he unleashed yet again that scary female laugh. ?Now, if you don?t mind, I need time to make the girl scream loudly Whee ?

?Shut up You won?t dare ? Phil roared with tears as he lunged angrily. This was his sister?s murderer all along. Oh how he should have listened to his father, to Mr. Brenetmos. They did not want to betray him, they wanted to help him, and he despised their ideas. The crazy man never saw it coming as Phil?s balled and angrily tight clenched fist slammed into the man?s jaw.

?Ooh You?re feisty ? he laughed. He didn?t even seem to flinch to the pain, but considering how little he knew about physical fighting, it might have been unsurprising. ?This?ll be fun.? he chided in his giddy, insane tone as he pointed the gun to Phil?s head.

?This is the end ? Phil thought. A tear escaped his eye. He would never be able to appeal for this sin. He would die guilty.

Just down the river, a familiar blue gator was encroaching upon a cave. It was, after all, the order of his master. ?Go home.? those words rang in its mind. It would be home, and try to forget and forgive al that had happened. That was, of course, until the psycho laughter it knew too well had sounded, followed by what seemed to be a familiar voice. Perhaps, things could be straightened out after all, but time was not to be wasted.

Phil could not bear to watch the dishonorable feeling of his own death. ?I have failed. I failed not only myself, but my sister, the Totodile, and furthermore, I?m going to die ? As such, he shut his eyes as he was held tight in the psycho?s grasp. It was then that he felt a force tingle upon his skin. The sound of gun shot however, was unheard heard.

 

[Dilasc]

I post this story so many places that I sometimes forget a few. To make up for lost time, I will be moving things up to speed.

Dust to Deceit

Chapter 4: The Trial of Tears (and Blood)

'Is this what it feels like to bleed?' Questioned Phillip from within his mind as he felt a strong force against him. 'Is this what its like to die?' his mind questioned again, 'Should I dare open my eyes to see the doomed afterlife I've succumbed to? It feels so cold, I must be fading...' he questioned consistently. Fear swept his mind, and like glue, fear kept his eyes shut until he had a **** good reason to open them.

"Ooh! My gun go flyyyy…" went a familiar psychotic voice. "Flying! Whee!" that laughter which followed, and the insane, effeminate tone. It could only mean one thing.

'This must be hell.' Phil's mind assumed. 'I'm hardly surprised.' he sighed, and, after much hesitation, opened his eyes to see what had happened.

From the blur of nothingness, the visions of the blue skies above and forest shrubs stood before him. "Welcome back sleepy head!" came an agitating voice, followed by an insidiously agonizing laughter. It was Jimmy! The whack job still held the boy firmly in his grasp, but as he looked to his hands, no gun could be found. But a look to the right and ten feet away, in the soft dirt nearby gave him his answer. Someone had disarmed this man, and did a ****ed good job of it too.

An answer to that stood before him in a rage of blue, armed with claws and teeth. "Totodile!" he called to the blue creature. "I know you must hate me, but I realize my mistake! If you can accept my apology…" Phillip's eyes were wild with fear as his mind knew what must be done, "Then please, untie Gina and get her out of here!" he was practically begging the creature to save her.

"Ooh! Croc! Croikey! I don't bring you enough dead bodies, you're spoiled little crocies!" rambled Jimmy in purely ecstatic insanity. "I see dead people!" he continued, as he rambled on about god knows how many famous, hip and hot TV and movie clichés and one liners. "Fly me to the moon in a batter of cake."

Phil's muscles tightened. This man was not going to get away with his crime. No, he was going to suffer. In spite of the fact that his psychotic smile never died, Jimmy would be hurting and badly at that. And that of course, is where Phil made his first attempted struggle, and a lash from his flailing feet went right to the man's shins. "You are going to regret so much!" he yelled as the man's grip loosened.

"Ooh, my foot feels funny." laughed the crazy one as his voice brought creepy feeling to all nearby. "Croccy wants to play! Whee!" he grinned as he noticed the blue gator rescuing damsel in distress.

The creature's claws wildly swiped at the rope on her hands, attempting to cut it off in as many fell swipes as its little claws could. It was to no avail. All it did was wear down its nails as they reddened in soreness as all they did were an extremely slow deterioration, not too mention a few inaccurate swipes causing bruises to the poor lass in question. It seemed that the girl would have to wait, or else risk shredding her up, and facing the guilt of murder.

As it looked towards its struggling trainer, the Totodile had a better idea. Though not exactly safe as it was, fighting would be the only answer. The human boy pleaded for apology, and that had meant he knew the truth. Indeed, it helped immensely. It was not about to let all that be smashed and eviscerated by a simple madman. With a deep breath, it went to work pitting its animal prowess against the madness of a man.

"Words cannot describe my anger!" Phil sneered as his foot took another swipe at the man's bruising shins. His grip on the boy had loosened at last, leaving Phil's hands free to strangle, punch, or gouge out as freely as he'd wish. "You're not fit to be alive, scum!" he roared, taking a punch at the man's stomach. His fist only connected with an open palm. After all, an important rule of keeping your hide alive, never hit a crazy person. The Molson boy had nearly sealed his fate.

"You're a fun dancer. Let's boogie!" he grinned as his fist flew towards the boys jaw with an immense force. There was no way he could block it. His hand was parried and gripped tightly. His other hand was at the wrong side of his face. How on earth this psycho managed to grab a hook from the right with his left hand was beyond Phil, but it hardly mattered now.

It was then that a blue meteor of reptilian hide smashed head first into the man's gullet. Its force was strong, and got quite the reaction the laws of physics would deem fit, sending the psycho sprawling to the ground on his side. Yet, as he fell, he laughed yet again. His feminine laugh did not dither or choke on a syllable as its accursed sound rang through all ears present. His smile and enthusiasm seemed as great as ever. "Whee!"

Phil took no time to wait. Mustering whatever force he could, he darted upon the smiling, fallen body and sent his fists as many times as possible to the mans face and nose. Every ounce of blood he shed would be a victory in itself in his mind. Revenge was long overdue, and this time, his attacks were not repelled by psychotic arms. He was not about to wait. After all, a fair fight was out of the question when he'd already been pointed at with a gun.

Punch after punch as both of Phil's fists swung wildly, empowered by an enormous backing of adrenaline. But no matter how badly his face would bruise, especially where the openings around the piercings on his face began to loose blood, he could not hurt this man's smile. It just lingered as he laughed every now and then, even after blood was clearly running down the side of his face. "This is it monster!" Phil panted heavy in the midst of rage and fury. "Send my regards to whoever takes care of evil scum like you in the afterlife!" his voice was rasped, filled with an overflowing berserk harshness. "Tell him to save me a nice spot someday!" he roared. The look on his face was weird. Instead of being angry and gritted teeth, Phil was grinning wildly. He almost sounded proud as he rang out the short soliloquy towards the cur of a criminal.

Gina, from her helpless and vulnerable state was moving and struggling against the flow of the bonds. It wasn't easy, but with thanks to a stroke of luck, stacked upon the sloppily done job at mouth gag, Gina was able to a few words in. "Wait!" she shouted.

Her voice, it was a sense of refreshment that washed over Phil's entire being and soul. With a quick jab to the murderer's stomach, he scowled. "Don't even try to move!" he warned darkly, only to be met by more insidious laughter. Phil shuddered as he heard that jerk's laughter for the umpteenth time in the last hour or so. A rush of sadness swept through his being. There was Gina, tied up and a tad bruised, asking him to hold back for just but a moment. He would have to be as crazy as the man he was throttling to death to not listen. "What is it?" his voice was that of concern as he ran towards her, pulling the gag from her mouth at long last after what felt like an eternity in one mere hour.

Her eyes were pleading. "Don't kill him." she seemed to beg. Her eyes were watering up, "I know he's a cruel person, but please." she couldn't hold it back. Tears stream down her cheeks. "Just no killing today." she pleaded, wishing she could wipe the tears from her eyes.

Phil himself, could see the true sadness in her eyes. A fear swept over him. 'Dear god!' he figured. 'I'm nothing but an abomination!' and at long last, a softness touched his heart. "I must admire you." he admitted. "But I'm not letting him off the hook, woman! Do you realize what he did?" he sighed. He simply couldn't leave a cruel monstrosity like this to roam the world wild and hazardous to all.

Without needing to be told, Phil fulfilled in ten seconds what a Pokemon had strained with risky and effort to do… he untied the ropes. Then again, when you have the advantage of human fingers, opposable thumb especially, its really not as stellar as it sounds.

"Aw, how cute!" spoke Jimmy, going wide eyed and sickly. "Cooties! Cooties! Cooties!" he raved wildly, rather beaten and dazed on the soft soil. The ground soaked up the blood from his face as he lips still maintained its insane smile. He wasn't going to be going anywhere at all.

Gina's eyes began to dry just a bit, as she rubbed a the salty tear trickling down her cheek. "Thank you, Phil." she smiled as strongly as she could. It was a failing smile however hard she try, and it wavered, waiting to go back to the crying it longed for, letting troubles flush and drown away in tears.

But Phil wasn't feeling very thanks worthy. No, he hadn't quite been successful yet. "Hold still!" he yelled to the crazy man as he hauled back to him holding many pieces of untied rope.

It wasn't easy to restrain him. His psychotic giggles grating deep into the skull, his sudden outbursts and giddy shaking and struggling did not make things easy by any stretch. In the end however, Phil managed to tie the man's arms firmly behind his back, and his legs tied together at just above the tongue of his shoes. Tying his mouth shut was much too risky. Every time his hands grew near, a pair of crazy teeth would try and snap at him like a wild tortoise.

Fearing the worst, Phil knew he might not let go had he grasped anything in his teeth. Had he given him a stone, it'd likely be crushed to dust before his teeth would realize that they needed to feel the pain of such a force.

"You're lucky that the girl over there has a goodly heart! Otherwise yours would be bleeding on a platter after I'd rip it from your black blooded existence." taunted the Molson avenger. The empowering feeling behind this victory was unbelievable. He wanted to do it again, and again. And whenever Gina would have a change of heart and mind, the villains black heart would be dubbed an heirloom even if he had to dub it as such himself.

The man was now fully restrained. Such was a costly victory. The blue reptilian knew its master had won the day. It approached him cautiously, standing there, waiting as though something were to happen. Its head was downcast, water filling slightly in its eyes. Phil of course, stared back. "Well, are we going to be friends yet," his voice cracked as the contagious feeling of sadness crept to him as well. "Or do we both have to be in a river of tears first." As that was said, he too would lose control of his tear ducts as boy and beast embraced. The beast, tears of joy and acceptance, while the boy filled with guilt, shame, regret, and fear. "I'm so sorry." he repeated. It felt so needed. He needed to let the sorrow he so truly felt be known.

Gina stared on as the brown haired boy as he was at long last at peace with a wrongly accused killer. She felt so weak, so wronged. 'I agreed to Brenetmos' plan to set those two up.' she sighed. She had no idea that the magnitude of the setup would be so dire. A hatred so grand, and of course, Jimmy was nowhere in the plans. That was just unfortunate.

With a sigh, and a blink of her reddened tear dried eyes, she assessed the boy again. He saved her life from certain doom. No doubt, somewhere within him, 'He felt… he was saving his sister deep inside.' she concluded. It was unquestionably obvious! Suffice to say that there's no complaint needed when you're still alive thankfully. Still, why him. Him to see her weak and vulnerable. It made her want to cry, the embarrassment and shame she felt.

It was then, that a the sound of a loud choking sound was emitted from crazy man's dangerous mouth, followed afterwards by a repulsive wad of saliva and phlegm. "Pu'me on the spit! Pu'me on the spit! Whee!" his exuberance was enough to make her vomit, and his ropes were not holding a firm enough grip.

'He could use my help.' Gina figured, as she fingered the Pokeball in her belt. It would be, as of this morning, the first time she had opened the red and white contraption. She fingered the sphere at the half way point between color changes. 'Already Phil's gotten to know his Pokemon a bit, even if by dangerous means, and I've yet to even know anything about my Bulbasaur.' she considered the facts. Perhaps, a tinge of jealousy was pulsing through her veins. "Well…" she figured, cautiously tossing the Pokeball to the ground as it spiraled rapidly, causing a sight of pink to appear till it collided with the soft sandy grass.

In a flash of energetic red light, a stout, green quadruped emerged. Its face distorted immediately into a look of confusion. Looking a tad timid, it stepped towards the trainer carefully. Its voice perked as it chanted its name. Its voice, groggy in a high pitch sort of way as it looked up to the girl that stood before it. There was no doubt in its verdant mind that this person was its master.

"Hello there." the human girl spoke to it. Her voice, mustering as much friendliness as possible. First impressions go long ways after all, and unlike Phil, she didn't think she'd have the courage to go on if tension between her and her very first Pokemon were to arise. Being brave, she decided to extend her hand to the verdant dinosaur before that stood before her, patting the seedy growth upon its back carefully and softly. Its texture was surprisingly smooth, and felt a bit delicate, like a soft flower waiting to bloom.

It smiled to the delicate fingers that glided like a gentle wind, only softer. It chanted its name again, obviously in delight. It seemed that there'd be no discontent between these two.

"Bulbasaur." went the green haired girl as she addressed the pokemon. "I'm going to need your help." she said. The creature before her nodded once as the human girl pointed to Phil, who was struggling slightly at keeping the crazy man down, his Totodile doing his best to help as well. "I believe you have a move called Vine Whip." she recalled, hoping her assumption was indeed correct. With the green one's nod of confirmation, she gave her first ever command to her very first Pokemon. "Ok, see that man tied up over there?" she asked the beast, patting it atop the orifice atop its backside. "See if you can wrap some vines around that man's wrists and ankles."

From the side of its back two seemingly think and flimsy green lines seemed to sprout. These were vines, clear and smooth, only at the tips of the vines were widened bulbs that seemed to look sturdy, as though they served as the true muscle behind the might of this vinery "Hold him still just a bit longer." Gina's voice rang loud as she caught Phil's attention.

As he looked up, he saw what appeared to be flying green rope wafting and wavering gently to the calm winds. This 'rope' had the simplistic scent of fresh cut grass. As swiftly as the ropes of green whipped towards the fallen psycho, its ropey nature began to go to work, as it quickly entangled the man with the sturdiness and endurance beyond that of the real thing.

All in all, they had finally restrained the social misfit in tight binding which he would not likely be escaping. Though still remaining was the problem of the madman's wayward, spontaneous voice box, as its randomness would put a real Tourette's sufferer to shame.

"Now all we need to do is figure out how to haul his sorry excuse of existence out of her." sighed Phillip. Indeed, even with a combined effort, both humans would have great trouble carrying their caught criminal anywhere. It was then that a loud, churning roar would sound. It was his stomach. "Oh god I'm, starved." he noted.

"We can stop for a bit if you're that hungry." noted Gina, as the thought of eating made her stomach churn in neediness. She saddened though. "But, we have nothing to eat. How are we going to get food?"

It was then that Phillip had an idea. Were he a cartoon, a light bulb would have appeared and shone brightly for millenniums to come. "Hey Totodile!" he called to the blue croc beside him. "How do you see your food around these parts?" The crocodile's face contorted into a sly smile, Phil would have sworn it was a grin as it motioned with a clawed finger for the human to follow, which he did in a heartbeat, kicking up the dusty sand as his quick pace lead them towards the river and caves.

"Well Bulbasaur…" went Gina as she was left all alone at this point. Just a girl and her Pokemon. "You Have any ideas of good food to find around here?" she asked. She was curious. After all, it'd be a good way to learn to get to know her new Pokemon a bit better.

With half a name chant, the verdant dino smiled, pointing one of its front legs towards a group of bushes off a tad away from the river. Obviously, it was telling the human girl to follow its lead.

As bushes were tossed aside, the plant creature extended from its body another set of vines. What await was a great big bush and vine, and small red, spherical berries, fresh, glistening the reflection of the setting sun. Food it was, and good to eat, so it seemed.

With a quick and careful motion, the dinosaur gently wrapped one of its ropey vines around one of the berries. From there, it put the berry into its mouth to seemingly swallow in one gulp. When it finished however, it promptly seemed to spit out what seemed to be an inedible little seed. As it connected with the dirt, the creature's claw seemed to reach the dirt and cover the promise of a flower to be. Satisfied at this, it smiled as it looked at its trainer.

Meanwhile, back at the river cave, Phil and his aquatic reptilian friend are now. "So… I guess you're going to fish then." he shrugged. Truth be told, there were no gripes from him about fish fillet.

With a nod, the Totodile looked toward the nearby cave. Its face distorted to confusion of what to do. Should it stop by at home for one last visit ever, or just move on now? It eyed the cave as it stood just a bit in the distance, noticing a few others of its kin, and bigger, more powerful looking gators as well.

"Something wrong there?" the human asked. Indeed, so it seemed, for the gator nodded its head swiftly as its clawed fingers pointed to the caves of its home. The Pokemon's eyes looked pleading as it stared at its master.

"Ah, I see. Your family I take it." he understood. 'I never got to say goodbye to my sister.' the thought yielded just but one tear, which trickled swiftly down his face. "You may say your goodbyes."

The gator however, was not about to leave it at just that. It tugged gently upon the human's arm, doing its best to avoid clawing it to a bloody state. The message seemed very clear.

Phil's eyes went wide like watermelons, "Me, meet your family?" He was aghast! Sure, he had forgiven one Totodile, but his presence may make scales and red spines stand on edge, as well as claws and teeth bear themselves for defense, and rend his skin painfully.

The crocodile however, didn't seem to care. It was do or die, and the croc wasn't gonna let it be die. No more would things equate to die. Looking in the direction of the small cavern, it roared its species name loudly into the air, attracting the presence of all kinds of blue gators. As enough crocodiles to send an ivory hunter into seizures made themselves known, the one whom had the human seemed to speak to its reptilian brethren.

Phil, knew not what was said, nor did he care. Thoughts of vengeance however had long since become that of obscurity. Now, he only hoped it was not too late to repent. "Uh, hello." he spoke nervously. Blue gators eyed him oddly, but in their eyes, the Molson boy could tell that they were not vicious.

As for Phil's gator, it seemed to finish speaking, ending with a nod of its head. At that, the biggest crocodile of all time seemed to be present. Compared to a regular Totodile, this thing looked dangerous, with sharp claws, big teeth, and protective fat. But Phil's Pokemon showed no fear as it hugged at the leg of this behemoth, who in turn, gently patted the smaller creature upon the head.

After a few more times hearing raspy voices bellow the name Totodile, and bigger voices roaring names he didn't quite catch amongst the chatter, it was time to go. Clawed hands of all sizes leapt into the air, waving back in forth, as they saw one from their family for what may have been the last time.

"Well there." Phil sighed in relief as he and his Pokemon made slow paced tracks back towards the river. "How about that food finding?" A grin plastered itself upon he gator as it ran right to the edge of the water. Its color was brown, thanks in part mostly to the rocks and mud that littered its floor, but was quite easily possible to see deep into it. Creatures of all kinds swam its calm waters as they darted back and forth.

The Totodile let its tongue wander the length of its long, pronounced snout as it looked into the calm, mostly clear water. It was obvious that thus wasn't going to be a herbivorous search.

Phil however, was rather helpless to do anything. "I guess its up to you." smiled Phil as the Totodile lunged into the water. The hunt had begun!

Blue claws lashed out at the first helpless fish it could find. The creature victimized looked red, but was blurred by the waves created to the tango of the great hunt. In a big splash, the crocodile leapt out of the water, and with it came a helpless looking red fish with what appeared to be a crown of yellow fins decorating its head, even redder than before with blood leaking from newly formed scratch marks. It yelped in pain what apparently must have been its name.

Quickly before the fish hit the water, the Totodile's teeth lunged at the creature's neck, biting sharply like a demonic vampire who had reawakened after thousands of years. Its force was deep into its neck. Blood began to flow like a faucet on full blast. The fish had a sealed fate.

At a splash, croc and prey hit the water once more with prey held firmly in razor sharp jaws. As it flailed away the last of its existence, its gills desperately eking any hope of survival. To no avail as it was violently tossed to the dry land. It's last muttered word, gurgled in a mesh of blood would be 'Karp'.

"Hmm, I guess this will do just fine." the human shrugged. It was small, but beggars cant be choosers.

The gator however was not finished, so it seemed, for the gator seemed to leap out of the water yet again, another fishy beast of food. It's body, glistening orange. The shine of the reflective sun made a golden tint off its shiny scales. Its white underbelly was covered in a crimson covering. It however, seemed to be able to fight back for its life. Adorning its head looked to be a razor sharp horn, its solid, sharp look put a fear into the Molson boy as he watched the circle of life in action. Carefully as possible, the gator would not go 'head to head' with the goldfish, opting for indeed its own safety as it swiftly angled itself to the right.

Avoiding the onslaught of this spiked object, it only managed to nick the gator's small yet sturdy arm. In a splash, both aquatic warriors were back beneath the waves, the water murky with reddish brown as the goldfish flopped to the surface in desperation. Its well pronounced fins were seemed severed in spots, and it too, like the fish before it, was destined to be dinner. With what seemed to be a powerful swipe, the creature was sent to the dirt ground, flopping desperately to return to its watery salvation. It would not make it.

It was weak, defenseless and dying. Without the mobility of the water, it had no hope of fighting back the gator onslaught as, like the fish before it, it received a mighty throat jab from vicious incisors. Its last breath was there after by about four seconds.

The human stared in awe. The blood that was spilled should have been a horrible sight. He had, after all, wiped all thinking of that kind from his mind. At least, he hoped he had. Fact was though that he liked it, and not just because this spilled blood would fill his starving innards. There was something else, something deeper. He knew not himself either. 'I'm just hungry, that's all.'

He looked back to the crocodile. It looked ready to find more feast. "Hey! We have enough, I think." the human called out, disrupting instinct's controlling ways. In a leap, the small croc was standing on the dry land as it shook its wet body wildly like a post-bathed canine, though scales don't really fluff about like fur does. With a sigh of discontent, the gator complied to the commands of its trainer.

"We have far more than enough." the human sighed. He didn't really feel all that hungry the more he thought about it. The human grabbed the fish by their tail fins both in one hand, and carried them upon his back.

Meeting back where a crazy nut job was swaying back and forth hap hazardously while still laughing in that shrill, disgusting voice. "Whee! Yay to the fishes in the deep blue sea!" e began to ramble yet again. The blood on his face had long since dried, leaving scratch marks, bruises, and scars that may last forever. Those scars would never be enough to compensate for the great scar he left on the people he's hurt.

Gina had long since returned. With her, she held a splendor of deeply red… berries. Their juiciness seemed to be unable to contain themselves as it flowed its extraneous nature to even the slightest motion.

Gina herself eyed carefully what Phil held in his hand. Fish! Blood covered, deceased fish. Their still present, yet rapidly drying blood sent a chill down her spine. She would be sticking to fruit tonight, thank you very much!

"So," the Molson boy glanced to the master hunter. "You just eat these raw?" he asked. They had no way to start a fire, and Phil wasn't about to start playing with rocks and sticks. The flames could spread, and fires could break out. As rare as that was, he would not risk it.

The croc nodded, taking the smaller, red fish from the human's hand, biting into it with a longing hunger. The human eyed him wearily. With a shrug, he figured he might as well. Worst comes to worst, all he does is hurt himself. Looking at the horned fish in his hand, he figured that sharp horns aren't very good to eat. Flipping the fish upside down, he took a cautious bite. He'd finish the entire thing, leaving a pile of bones, and a detached horn to decay into obscurity.

After what had to be his oddest, but not worst, meal ever, Phil was stuffed. Fish fat may be healthy, but fat is fat, and well, it makes you fat! His eyes roamed carefully to the psychopathic man, who still sang annoying words and laughed maliciously. "Whee!" his quirky voice rang loud. "Save some for later, hungry boy!"

Phil eyed the fish horn he had discarded on the ground. It's sharp edge could gut that man cleanly and satisfyingly. 'No, no more killing!' he remembered. "Well, we should move out. I say we bring this man to the nearest town and call someone to get this schmuck out of my sight! But how?" he wondered yet again.

It was Gina's Pokemon to the rescue this time. As more vines seemed to magically spring forth and grow from its sides, they wrapped carefully around the already made roping. Then these vines pulled the man into the air as the Bulbasaur bellowed with might. The crazy man was lifted into the air by his tied arms and legs to sway slightly like a pendulum in a clock. It did not deter his craziness in the least.

"I want to fly like a Wingul," the nutcase sung merrily as he was heaved into the air. "I wanna fly like a Wingul, my spirit free. Fly like a Wingul cuz they'll never capture me! I want to FLYYYYY, Whee!"

"Well..." Gina shrugged, ignoring the man's odd words. "We may not get to Feltinrel by tonight." she figured. "I guess we just cover as much ground as possible." Fact was, after a day like today, sleep would be a welcome escape for the few hours it lasts.

With a sigh, Phil complied as the green dinosaur seemed to easily hold the man by its forestry formed ropes. The path winded It was going to be a LOOOOONG evening. Let alone, getting the sun to set would seem to be a chore. It would, however, be worth the call of justice.

 

[Dilasc]

Dust to Deceit

Chapter 5: The Farce Will Be With You, Always

An hour, two hours, not longer than two though, it felt like five centuries awaiting the setting of the mighty solar orb in the sky, but time stands still for nobody.

?How much further?? wondered Phillip as he looked but a tad battered. It was understandable though. H did have one hell of a day after all, and its almost surprising that he hadn?t collapsed sooner. His feel began to drag, dirt, soil, and sand, while grass began to stain the bottom of his shoes.

Gina blinked, thinking for about two seconds. ?Hmm?? her mind wandered towards second thoughts. Surely a town was near enough to walk to, and nigh unto night or morning, they could sleep till they never needed rest again. But as yawn after yawn escaped from the very soul itself, sleep was not going to be a patient little pest. ?I guess we could rest out here?? she was hesitant. Suffice to say, she had her reasons, and indeed they were good ones.

Truly there was some sorts of evils and dangers lurking in the darkness and shadows of the night. Some evil wrapping its malicious tendrils of vile blasphemy waiting for the oh so right chance to sew discord throughout the land? ?And then I?ll make spaghetti curled into a big pile of soap and throw it at the neighbors. WHEE!? Then again, its likely there was no off button on that man, meaning more for them. He surely wasn?t going anywhere, and what better way to scare people away than with your very own restrained, pet psychopath. That poor little dinosaur must have been straining to hold a wack job like Jimmy. It?d hopefully not be long before it would all be over.

Regardless, that would not keep bug bites, cold evening air, and other fearless hazards away from them. ?Great!? rang the Molson?s voice, hiding the actual lack of enthusiasm. Truth be told, he did not think, rather, he knew that sleep would not come easy tonight.

The boy?s eyes wandered skyward, gazing at the blackening sky with deep thoughts and intensity. Specs and dots of light shrouded by sky blue dusts broke free of their grasp, visual to all who?d wish to gaze upon the spectrum of sheer and splendorous heaven lights!

It was fortune that a clear opening of soft grass and decent space. It?d be sufficient and serve purpose of resting for the night. It was probably not even ten o?clock yet, but they didn?t care, let the escape of sleep make things better, even with creepy laughter ringing through the ears.

They had no sleeping bags. It?d be sleeping in nature?s mattresses of choice, the soft, yet indubitably to be wet grass, the sand, somewhat rougher a surface, and worse yet it?d be not so comfy as you turn into a sand dune. Not cleaning up afterwards would be dumb and boorish. Then again, there was the soil: Soft and black, this dirt would stain clothes darkly, but it?d be cozy, if not for the fact that plants were busy using it for a growth spot. Indeed, kids on a day like this would nay dare invoke nature?s wrath. There was also those rocks over there where Phil had decided to sit, gazing into the sky. Rough, hardened, and uncomfortable, those were the only possible drawbacks to sitting on the uneven leveled surface of stones. Other than that, nothing would side effect them in waking hour, except of course for a sore back. All in all, grass seemed to have a landslide vote.

Speaking of rocks, or rather Phil sitting on the stone surface, his eyes gazed skyward in a fixation. He felt so alone, so vulnerable? so useless. He hardly heard Gina as she approached the boy, placing a hand gently on his shoulder in concern. ?Phillip?? she began, sadly at a shortage of ideas of idle chatter to make time flow faster, and hopefully take his mind off of revenge. This rage was eating him up, and Gina wasn't thrilled about it in the least.

He jumped startled for a second as he felt her hand touch his shoulder. Calm, warm, and not rough at all, his mind was too deep in its thoughts to be pulled out by a mere human hand. Instead, these thoughts would probably pull that hand, and person who?s hand it belonged to, right into it. ?Look up into the sky.? he said. He hardly waited for her. He had bottled emotions of fear and torment, and sooner or later, that bottle will realize it is only made of glass, the delicate, crafted works of sand that they are. Sooner or later, it would shatter, letting free the contents they held, or simply causing all to break down. Even with out breaking, a bottle is but a transparent entity, and sooner or later, all would be known before breaking the bottle. ?Just do it!? he repeated.

There would be no harm in doing so, Gina complied, gazing the sky with her eyes. The splendor of bright stars was more intense, the haze of summer nights not quite gripping the land in its curse, as more blotches of beautiful light littered the sky, all visible through the open location, thankfully left unblocked by the trees. ?It?s? beautiful!? she stared as well.

?It?s terrifying!? Phil said, not even hearing her words. ?These lights are larger and further than life can fathom. Some, for all we know, don?t even exist, but their sheer distance means we still see their light.? he sighed, continuing his dramatic monolog. ?But they still inch their way to any eyes that can block out, or fortunately be unaware the fearful truths of the grand scheme of the universe.? he took another breath. He needed it! ?We are? insignificant, meager. We too will be long gone some day.? a tear formed at his right eye, bringing with the salty waters a sense of unreflecting awareness to the world around him. He gazed at Gina, her brown eyes wide with astonished silence, fear no doubt. It was very understandable. He blinked, glancing to her again. ?Uh, I?m sorry.? he frowned. ?I didn?t mean to scare you.?

He wouldn?t dream of scaring her. It?d be wrong. He?d hurt her. He?d never forgive himself if she were hurt. ?She doesn?t deserve a burden like me.? he realized, his head, now downcast to the dark ground below him.

?You worry too much.? she began, her voice, timid and hesitant. She took a second to think things through. ?One day? we will all be gone. None of what you says will even matter. We wont be around to worry about it.? her voice saddened at that thought. ?Just don?t worry.? she smiled, its warm and contagious nature made his mouth shift into a smile as well, though a weak one. The boy stood up at that. ?Where are you going??

The Molson turned to her, ?Well, I doubt you?d really like knowing, but I?m going to that tree over there to urinate.? he shrugged as he walked off. As they say, feel natural, nature?s way!

?I?ll just pretend I didn?t hear that.? mumbled Gina quietly, a bit flustered to the words he spoke, glad for the darkness and the fact nobody was looking at her.

Yet, there was one other human who heard everything. ?Pew love!? spoke a childishly insane voice, ala Jimmy. ?How sweet!? he then went on to his malicious giggle, just because it?d be wrong if he didn?t every **** time!

Clearing the bladder was, well, a tad refreshing for Phil. The details though are nowhere to be found. But as he finished up, it seems the fateful gator decided to approach his trainer. With a quiet, raspy chant of its name, its presence was known to him. The boy?s eyes quickly shifted towards the reptile, deciding he might as well get to know it better. ?Hey there.? he smiled, though it was forced and weak. Considering that its not even been twenty-four hours yet and life seemed to suddenly suck spherical objects, it?s a surprise he was still alive.

The Totodile nodded its head but once in acknowledgment. What the heck could the boy say anyway. This was a Pokemon. It seemed to understand any words spoken to it just fine, but he hadn?t even the slightest clue as to what it could possibly say in return. Baffled, Phillip stayed quiet, gazing to the land around him. Unfortunately, in the shadows of the night, he didn?t see much. Seemed as though all that was up and awake was some weird green spiders and a familiar curly tailed rat with purple, ratty fur.

Staring at the creature, it seemed to just go about its daily? or rather, nightly life, as its small legs brought it swiftly across the nightly meadows, breathing fire to light its path? wait a sec! Phil blinked wildly at that one. Red hot flames formed at the tip of the rat?s tooth, carefully wafting around its sharp teeth to light up a good amount of greenery about it, the flames taking on a spiraled shape like a buzz saw, and rotating just as quickly. Were it made of some solid substance, that bladed disc could probably split the planet in half had it been tossed by the one with the might of a god.

?I must be really tired.? Phil mumbled. Funny? he didn?t seem to feel THAT tired. Regardless, he knew that a Rattata couldn?t breath fire. He truly must have been seeing things. He blinked once, but the white hot light was still illuminating the trees to a bright forest green.

After a minute more of the blazing light and illumination, it seemed to disperse, dissipating harmlessly into thin air, in nothing but a cloud of smoke, hidden as it became suddenly shrouded in the darkness of night, their colors complimenting each other as a silent puff of smoke hit the air.

?I?m insane?? the boy stated calmly. ?Now I finally understand my stability.? he joked to nobody.

He hardly noticed a small green creature approaching nearby. Hairs, short, yet noticeable grew along its body of chitin. Its yellowy, black striped legs also had tarantula hairs growing meshed about. And adorning its head was a rather wide, flat spike, hardly dangerous in the least.

?Eh? You heard nothing!? the boy grinned as he spoke to the Totodile, not quite looking at the creature, as he began reaching down to stroke gently the scaly skin of the reptilian Pokemon, whom he had learned was not his enemy. Instead, a hairy, filmy skin was what his fingers found, gliding along the surface suspiciously.

It didn?t go long, for after three seconds, a strange pair of pinching teeth bit into his hand, the boy yelped in pain. The spider was scared. Its voice piped up, naturally, the only word spoken was its name as it looked upwards towards the human. It was scared. Its bite was relatively not lethal. No! There would be no poison on the first bite. After all, why waste precious venom on something that may not need it. Suffice to say, there was no way that an average human would know that much.

?Yow!? went Phil, as he retracted his hand quickly. Looking down, he saw a pair of buggy eyes staring back up at him. His hand, punctured with the piercing spider fangs, pulsated like a rapid heart beat, fiercely in pain. Thankfully it didn?t draw blood, though his palm did have two very prominent, and easily noticeable puncture marks. The creature spoke again, words lost to a lack of lingual capabilities. Its dialog simply sounded like ?Spinirak?.

Suffice to say, the blue gator was standing at the other side of the boy, and it **** sure wasn?t just going to stand around helplessly. Not a chance! It was, after all, a hunter at heart, and the hunter lives for the hunt. In a swift motion, its claws opened as it swiftly leapt to the left around the boy?s legs. As it ended, it leapt again, these razor sharp phalanges swiftly sunk deep into the creature?s flimsy chitin, white liquid oozing at the deep puncture.

Its bug eyes widening, it swiftly proceeded as it opened its insect mouth yet again. Instead of vicious fangs and teeth, a white, dry and sticky string began dancing in the air, wrapping itself around anything it could cling to. It spoke, repeating its own name over and over as its constrictive silk wrapped itself around the defensive Totodile?s waist, pulling its arms to its side as it roped around him.

Poor bug however was outnumbered. Phil wasn?t going to let Totodile fight this and lose. After all, this little bug didn?t stand that much taller than the lad?s foot. At such a fact, why not help our your Pokemon and give it a good kick! Verily, he proceeded to do just that. With a quick motion, his foot went flying straight for the creature?s thorax, breaking its careful web weaving as it unleashed a gasp of pain, yelling loudly its name as it keeled over in pain. It was not really expecting a battle.

?Well then?? the boy trailed off. ?Let?s go back and catch some sleep.? he paused, suddenly something snapped. A memory. Yes! A memory of a few days back. It was his sister. She was so excited, talking, laughing and hardly able to contain herself as she gossiped on and on about a grand adventure that was to be. Somehow, all these words seemed useless back then, but now it stirred and swirled like a vicious black hole, letting nothing escape? not even light! Yes, she said something about Pokemon. Something? catch. Yes, it was that word he had just said that made his mind wander to that. Catch? yes. Something about fighting Pokemon. Throw? throw the sphere. The boy was deep at work in his mind.

Phil?s brain raced about as it quickly tried to understand and divulge what had been said that day. Racing, his mind beginning to stretch like putty the size of a mountain, easily circling the earth thrice over due to the elongation potential. Weaken, yes, that was a word she used as well? ?HUZZAH!? he knew it now as both mind and mouth seemed to blurt it out in unison!

He reached to his pack to take a pokeball. To throw, or not to throw? That was the question. A creature so brave as to take a swipe at him from nowhere. Yes, he liked that. This thing had spunk! And now, oh man would it be fun to make this creature conform to every command possible. Yes, it would conform to the might and manipulation of man.

He suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. He could not believe it. His mind had wandered to malicious intent! Villainous, cruel ideas and treatment. This would not become of his sister were she in his place. He simply HAD to stop thinking, ASAP! Without another game of mental warfare, he quickly grasped to his belt. His fingers rapped against the white of the poke ball twice, and then it was gone from his hand! Smacking against the green arachnid, it opened like a Pac-Man and oh so suddenly suddenly turned the beast into a ray of red light, glowing lightly for a second. Then the light was gone, leaving only a closed ball that seemed to dance vibrantly on the ground. Shaking about, the ball rolled about, smacking against a tree, bouncing one or two inches, landing more hushed than a pin drop as the grass softened its fall. After a short boogie, the ball seemed to have had enough. It was silent and still, save for a slight fading noise.

?Did I do that?!? Phil?s eyes widened. Most would be jumping for joy and calling themselves the king of Earth at their first capture. Not Phil though. ?I? I did it all by myself!? his hand moved involuntarily, grasping the ball in his fingers as he looked at it in shock. And of course, just to ruin the excitement, his hand reminded him of what it had as it stung to the grasping of the poke ball. He winced!

It was at this point that a rasp voiced crocodile, who had long since bit free of its constraining webs. A sticky, repulsive, and very dry taste lingered in its mouth. ?Let?s get some sleep, now.? his restlessness began to show. Maybe now he?d be able to sleep, if not for the stinging pain lingering in the palm of his right hand.

Gina seemed to have long since fallen into a peaceful slumber. ?Lucky girl. Why do I ruin her life with my presence?? he sighed, looking at her. Her green hair whipped slightly to the calm breeze, as her head rested gently against the soft grass. He couldn?t see much beyond that however, for the darkness was not where human vision had its potential. Nearby, it seemed even the madman had fallen asleep. Even asleep, he seemed to make himself be known to all. If ever you wanted to hear some loud snoring, then this was where you?d go. ?At least he?s not TALKING.? The Bulbasaur, who kept the beast of a man restrained, was also sound asleep, its legs stretched in all diagonal directions around it. ?I wonder if Pokemon dream? do they ever feel the guilt of life haunt the supposed peace and escape that sleep is said to provide, or is it simply rest for the next day??

Delving deeper would have to wait. ?Here?? he whispered to the Totodile. ?I think you?ll rest easier within.? he held out a red ball the little gator had not been with since practically half a day ago. He didn?t wait for an answer as he activated the device on accident, pressing the protruding button that converted the cold blooded creature into pure, infrared energy. ?Good night.?

Sleep came easily enough for the lad of vengeance. Visions raced through his dreams. Screams of pure terror, pain, and suffering filled the air like a fast spreading gas as a laughter boomed loudly behind it. The screams were of very different volumes, tones, and species. Rest assured though, none of them belonged to him. He awoke with a startled leap, drenched in sweat from fear. He knew not what had happened in the dream, but he knew what he was doing. He was the one laughing maliciously, like an evil overlord who had conquered the world! Morning dew was still wetly painted amongst the grass as he screamed in fear into the air. For the second time in under twenty-four hours, birds littered the air as a loud voice echoed the woods.

It was still early in the morning, time flies when you?re asleep after all. As he glanced about, Phil was glad that both humans seemed to remain asleep. ?I wish I could sleep as easily as they can.? he sighed. He was almost glad. He wouldn?t want to disturb Gina, and as for Jimmy? well, he WAS disturbed, and better left to loud snoring. It was unfortunate however for a certain grass Pokemon, who had been snapped out of wherever animalistic minds wander when slumber calls.

He simply let his head rest back against the wet grass. Surely it was just the peek hour of dawn, there was still time to rest up. Phillip Molson would not find himself back amongst the dream waves that day. He simply rested there, coated and caked in liquid, sweat in the open air, and wet grass on his backside. The chill of the winds didn?t even phase him. The chilling winds around him made him shiver. He did not sleep again that night.

 

[Banov]

Another good update, as usual :D
I did actually see this on another forum.....but now I forget whether or not you're ahead or behind on this forum.....
I have a question though...once they get the crazy killer guy back, will that be the end of the fic?

 

[Dilasc]

Of course it won't be. Remember, this is a trainer fic, but as far as what happens, you'll just have to be kept on the edge of your seat, waiting.

 

[oni flygon]

Wow... I wonder what happened to the other decent authors?

But yeah... congrates! fanfic of the month!

 

[Dilasc]

Wow! Me? Seriously! I... well, I feel so honored! Anyways, more to read, dear readers.

Dust to Deceit

Interlude 2 - They Might Be Gnats

A yellow haired man glanced to the sky above. Many stars glistened before his sight, bright, yet partly distorted from the summer's haze. The moon was up there too, shaped like a fingernail, a mere sliver of its full, unchanging glory.

To think, man once dreamed of the moon and stepping foot on such a dead, and lifeless surface. Now, in Arthur Landon's mind, the moon was a waste of man's time. 'Gretkan is out there... somewhere in this galaxy.' He smiled at the thought. Gretkan was his dream, his salvation. It was a salvation for all who wished to follow. 'Man or beast, all will be welcome to Gretkan We will be free.'

"Freedom is to each his own. Most would rather remain safe." A booming voice stated from above the yellow haired man.

Vast wings flapped loudly, kicking up much dirt from the nearby hills. Landing behind Arthur was a beast that many would only dream of meeting face to face. It's mere presence lit up the night sky around it, showing its white, smooth skin, and long wings that looked to have their own fingers at the tips. Its face glared sternly at the human beside it, the blue and black providing the beast with an almost intimidating appearance. "It is unsafe out there, human." Its voice did not move as it spoke, but its words were quite audible for anyone within a good few hundred feet to be able to hear.

Its voice was not loud, but something about its words were commanding, as though they spoke to the mind Arthur however, did not tremble at the sight, and the immense power he felt from this creature. "Lugia..." he said quietly, the word felt like acid on his tongue as he spoke it.

"You don't sound surprised to see me." the legendary beast asked in a falsely disappointed tone. Dare it be said, a godly beast had nearly sounded sarcastic, but mostly insulted. After all, Lugia was a beast that was feared and respected at the same time, and it was well aware of its power and prestige. "It is not every day that someone gets to chat with a legend such as myself."

"You are small and unimportant to me, no matter how self-important you are." the man replied in an honest tone. "Do you honestly think you can sway me from my dream? You make it sound like what I seek is evil!"

Lugia's gaze was deep, almost concerned. "Evil?" it asked, shaking its head. "No! There is no good and evil. There is merely misguidedness!"

"You cling to your desires to control us." Arthur replied, calmly, yet obviously quite displeased. "You fear that there may be powers greater than your own. Powers that are not even physical!" He paused, the thrilling intensity of his dramatic tone caught up to him as he waited for a second. "You fear science... knowledge! In short, you fear intelligence!"

Lugia replied a tone worthy of a legendary. "You know well that your heart thinks it is in the right place. I am glad you are not malicious, but you must know where your place is in the circle of life. You are not a god. You are human, and must remember that if you seek gateway to another planet, you will ruin that planet's development."

"I have made careful preparations to avoid causing unrest. Gretkan is a big planet. It is so big, that you cannot fathom how vast it is!"

The legend did not care for what the Occult leader was saying. "You must not disturb Vortexaco! It's flatulent portals are not toys to be used for avaricious ambition."

Arthur's eyebrow went upwards, and his head tilted downwards ever slightly. With a single cough, he replied to the beast of legend. "Such large, and inaccurate words. Anyone, anyone at all who seeks to expand humanity to Gretkan is welcome to join us." His brown eyes fixated upon the eyes of the legendary.

"Yes..." Lugia replied, but it did not get to say any more than that as the yellow haired man interrupted.

"Do you know what kind of falsehoods, lies, and heresy my followers are convicted of!" Arthur asked in an honest tone. "Hell, our last leader was executed for a crime that doesn't even exist! That man was my friend! Do you know how important we are to astronomers and how helpful we can be to shuttle launches?"

"I... am aware." Lugia replied, its tone honest and understanding. "Regardless of these facts, I regret to inform you that we may clash with hostilities if you continue your crusade!"

This was hardly a shock for Arthur Landon to hear, but it was not pleasing in the least. The fact that he and his men may perish at the hands of legendary beasts was unnerving. To see his dreams shattered by genocide sent a deathly frightening chill up his spine. There was only one question on the man's mind. "Why?"

Lugia did not reply at first. After a few seconds of delay, the legend spoke in its telepathic voice once again. "I cannot tell you why!" it replied. "As cliched as it may sound, to you humans, you have to find out for yourself."

Arthur nodded his head. "You're right." he replied earnestly. "That certainly sounds like a cliche." With that, he grunted audibly. "Still, if it's violence that you seek, the Occult will not back down! You are after all, just a Pokemon." He paused, holding his slightly wrinkled hand up, with his pointer finger in front of his face. "Just a single Pokemon. Even you alone have your limits."

"Think what you will!" replied Lugia with its booming telepathic voice. "I must depart for now. We will meet again, human." With emphasized tone on the word human, the beast's mighty wings flapped loudly, and the white legendary departed from the hilly grounds, and soared off into the night sky. "Hopefully, you will come to understand me!" Within seconds, Lugia was gone!

'You're a gnat, Lugia! You are a gnat who thinks that you're a god!' Arthur's mind concluded. "You are nothing but an interference! A disruption to the endless hope for the future!" Lugia however, was already gone, and heard none of his words.

 

[Dilasc]

Gosh, I really am a feature of the month... wow, I truly can't believe it, but whatever, on with the story!

Dust to Deceit

Chapter 6: It's All Inside

The gentle chirping of birds brought about the beginnings of a new day. Bugs, and creatures of all kinds sang their lines of the morning calm. Topping it off, a rooster bellowed loudly into the air. Its noise loud and precise. It was as though it were right up in Phil's face. Truth be known, it WAS in Phil's face. It was however, no rooster.

"You freaking psycho!" the boy shouted as he was snapped out of his entranced daze of fear, "How… how did you do that?" it was not very often that a human could crow perfectly to the ways of the rooster. It was of course a hopeless endeavor. There'd be no chance in nine thousand hells that dim Jim would answer.

"I'm just set up us the bomb!" he rambled, swaying about like the psycho he was. "Last night I dreamed I was a baby Blaksheer! And all my brother Mareep would bleat me up because they were jealous they turned into Flaaffy instead. They was jealous!" Jimmy snickered. It seemed Jimmy was back to normal… well, as far as normal Jimminess goes. He proceeded to laugh like a maniac.

It was nearly fifty minutes longer of stories of his dream. He was a sheep apparently, and whatever Flaaffy and Blaksheer were just didn't seem to matter at the moment. As Jim's insanity slipped, Phil felt like his would follow. "I swear!" he nearly yelled, standing up in a loud stamp.

This action, would you call it loud, you'd be saying apples were vegetables. But it did send the slightest thump that must have reached Gina somehow, for with a light yawn and stretch, her eyes opened to the morning sun and the dew that coated her. It was as though her hair was the grass itself, despite color tone differences.

"Uh, good morning Gina." Phil said passively. It was apparent that good morning was truly not the way describe the Molson boy's day, unless it were opposite day.

"Morning…" she yawned again as the sun sent its warmth upon her. "Well, I'm all soaked…" she whined, the morning dew sending a chill with the light breeze. "Are you ok Phillip?" her eyes came to his face. Women's intuition perhaps it was. Regardless of how, she noticed all the redness in his face, especially around and in his eyes.

"Uh… I'm fine, really." he spoke quickly. He didn't want to hurt her, to scare her, or do anything to make her feel bad. His mind stretched. He did not want to get any deeper into the conversation. He had to change subject, ASAP! "How about we reach town first." he sighed, noticing a grayness painting into the blue sky. "Looks like a few nasty clouds are headed this way." he pointed out, as hiding behind leaves and trees was a sky painted over with splotches of the color gray... A dark gray. The gray seemed to form about, though not too quickly.

Gina too, scanned the sky briefly, nodding in agreement. "Very well." she shrugged, looking over to the verdant reptile with a slight smile "Good morning." she greeted. A nod and slight smile was the human's response, followed by the creature declaring its species to the world.

More clouds seemed to darken the morning skies. "Lets go then." Phil's mind was far from reality however, as thoughts vast and many clouded his thoughts more quickly and thickly than those in the sky. Memories of the horrors felt in his most recent slumber filled his mind, vying to control his every action.

"Weeeeell… All around the blueberry bush, a Mankey chased a sneasel! The Mankey knew a battle was won. Aaaand Cross Chopped the Sneasel!" Jimmy's insanity rang into the Molson's ears, snapping the lad out of the craziness his mind had nearly tugged him to. "This has been brought to you all by Grassers Leech Seed Surprise, with the yummy taste of life drain!" he shouted as his tied up body swayed slightly within its vinery of confines. Indeed, everyone was indeed going to 'go nuts' if they had to keep hearing that man's insanity, and Phil already seemed to be along the path of the nutcase.

He shuddered as Jimmy's words rambled on in the form of spoofs based on everything commercialized to just about everything around. 'I should have killed him…' he sighed, 'I'm just a coward!' his head went downcast as his eyes trailed about the worn dirt roadway. If rain was indeed the forecast, mud, cold air, and water would make life simply suck even more than it already did. As far as Phil was concerned, suicide wouldn't even be enough to make an escape from it all. No, he still had much to accomplish in the world of the living.

It may have been hours of walking. There was no more sunlight, and very little blue that seemed to inch through. Surely, water would be fast and furious as it fell to the ground at a rapid rate. "I think we're almost there." encouraged Gina, as plants and tree branches whipped about wildly in the growing winds.

Jimmy's irritable, and accursed voice laughed viciously, disturbing the balance of life and stability itself. "I'm shaking my bacon and great money makin! WHEE!"

Phil gritted his teeth! He oh so wanted to rip out his lungs on the spot. This… vile murder, scum beyond scum, was he really worth the molecular carbon intake that he happened to be? Would not the entire world be better off without this man? Were he sent to prison, taxes would be sent to support his existence. Despicable worm that he was, he couldn't even have the decency to be scared for his miserable life! There would never be any complete vengeance over this sadistic moron! 'I've failed!' his mind rang out. 'I failed my sister.' he had not exacted revenge after all. Catching the killer would never be enough.

But… would she WANT him to kill? Phil's stomach churned at the controversial thought of it. She wouldn't. Do two wrongs make it right? There was no turning back time now. She was gone… gone forever! Now all he could do was live her dream.

Gina didn't seem to be quite as disturbed by everything. Her eyes seemed wide and curious, her pace calm yet steady, her mind, no doubt, freer of worries. Her voice seemed a guiding, and soothing touch on his existence. She seemed to care about him, as odd as it seemed. 'She doesn't deserve my misery!' Oh how he'd love to have her presence, with her attractive green hair… 'Wait, what am I saying?' he shook his head ever so slightly. He perked his head up slightly, the sight of a building loomed before him through thick trees. Wait a second!

"We're here, at last!" sighed Gina in relief, catching some time to breath as they stood at the edge of the city limits. Indeed it was QUITE a city. Out of the forest and into a jungle of masonry and concrete. Indeed, it would be quite a populated place as towers stretched the sky now deeply and darkly gray.

"Where should we go now?" asked Phil, unsure of where on earth safe havens could possibly be for travelers in large mazes like this. Feltinburg seemed liked it'd be one heck of a place to live, even with sarcasm behind those words.

Gina let her lips curve, forming a slight yet confident smile. "We should go to the Pokemon Center!" she exclaimed with confidence.

"Ok…" Phil trailed, nodding for no reason other than the fact that there are joints in the neck. 'What the heck is that?'

The look of the unsure though made him quite a bit easier to read than popup books for three year olds. After all, what harm in being wrong? Gina, spoke again, explaining things about he ways of the 'Pokemon Center.' How people would go there to rest, and heal their Pokemon, for free. It was a short explanation to say the least, as her eyes roamed the roadways. "Say! That's it over there." she pointed.

Indeed it seemed safe a place. Quaint, and perhaps, hopefully cozy, it seemed to stand out amongst other buildings with their asbestos ad dry wall. It even had the word running across the rooftop in large, bold letters just to give its presence away.

It was sheer contrast to the city where it seemed to be situated. The hustle and bustle of life would probably never cease whether day, night, or apocalyptic end of all humanity, for the crowds were large enough to mow down the entire populace of China. As the humans and their lunatic prisoner were swept in, it felt like "Not going anywhere for a while? Grab a Stinkers! Icky Sludge Bombs, nasty Toxics, and everything smells like poop! Stinkers! Why wait! WHEE!" and crowds didn't seem to back away. After all, he was just a nameless face in the crowd. "Mmmm… Stinkers! Makes me wanna call on Koffing!" he then laughed. His shrill agony drowned out by bustle, and rustle of the crowds.

Suffice to say, Jimmy did have a few proper brain cells that could react to the world around him, and though bonds were too tough, he knew just how to thrust to the ground in just such a way to unleash the Pokemon from its glorious confines. Suffice to say, his reasons were heavy in the stupidity department. After all, he'd nay be hanging by his arms and legs possibly if he had called upon it sooner. In an instant, he moved with such a force that if it weren't for the clanging of metal on concrete, he'd splatter his bladder in a splash of red and colors most vile against the gray of the cement roadway.

Instead of red blood, there was red light. Infrared, a familiarity that meant that a Pokeball had been used. A glowing beam sprang into the air inches above the tidal waves of crowded townsfolk. As the infrared lights died, a creature with a surface rough of skin remained, and the rainbow spectrum of colors went to the complete antonym… ultraviolet. Truth be known, its skin was not made of light at all, but it was purple, and shaped quite a symmetrical sphere, which seemed to float in the air though tiny pores formed bumps and a rough surface, where tiny orifices seemed to let seep gasses of all varieties. Its weird shape nay even half as enigmatic as the fact that its body floated, defying laws of gravity and aerodynamics. This scoundrel of science had a face that seemed as forever smiling as its nutcase trainer, but its mind was far from in a happy place. Then again there was contrast upon this criminal to scientific law, for just below its face, a shape of a skull, and crossed bones below that. The ideal choices of a pirate's black and scary flag. A sense of doom and sadness seemed to emanate from this figure.

With a sigh, it looked about. The purple sphere's life was a sham. How it despised and feared the human who had it leashed, but never would it wish to return to the wilds. It was far too gone from that life now. Its life was now for that amongst humanity, and despite the odd and lacking style of love, affection, and care received, the spherical one would never return to amongst its kin in freedom. Something was pulling at its sickly, gas filled heart towards the ways of humanity and travel. As it looked down towards its human commander, its eyes widened, and would have had its mouth wide in shock, had it the facial muscles to muster more than a smile.

The human below, crazy, and roped up, looked at the round purple stinker. "SMOG!" he shouted. His yells ignored by the many as it was drowned out by nearly a billion other voices, but not to the gas ball. It knew well its commander's voice. You could stick the entire universe in a room and have everyone shout something at the same time, but this little Koffing would easily spot the psycho even if his voice was drowned out. Naturally, hearing such a simple command like such was easy to follow.

In short time after the order, bodily pores and ever smiling mouth let loose thick green clouds of wretchedness. Their thickness was so heavy, it could break a knife, as it clouded up and expanded rapidly. It didn't take long for the green billowing clouds to make people begin to clamp hands and fingers around their nasal entryways. Like a tidal wave made of human pigment, the ground thundered with the running of clomping footwear. People scattered about, running over each other, making mayhem and all around there was chaos, all over some cloudy stink disrupting the flow of city life. It was a mere taste of what industry will one day do to them all.

Even Phillip Molson was on the run. That is of course, until he saw Jimmy's hanging, and bound up. How difficult would it be to spot a Bulbasaur constricting arm and leg movement of a crazy man. It was amazing how separated he and the Meshing lass were separated "Gina!" he spoke quickly. He had not been separated from her, most fortunately, as he quickly grasped her arm. "Look!" he spoke to her as he grabbed her attention. She obeyed!

It was a hell of a sight to behold. A purple, floating landmine smiling carefree, shrouded by the clouds of nasty carcinogens. Below it, there was Jimmy! His psychopathic ways as he dangled within his confines, never flinching, wheezing, choking or suffocating to the unhealthy air. It would be assured that his lungs would be blacker than his heart by the time this was all over, and his heart would get blacker too. "Oh, you make them scream and run! Whee!" he cheered. It was, to be honest, the love relationship between Jimmy and his spherical beast. And the watcher of the convict, the verdant dinosaur, seemed to be struggling to the bad odors. It was, after all, sane enough to feel the pain.

"Bulbasaur!" shouted Gina, garnering the attention of the Pokemon that was indeed hers. Indubitably, its attention snapped forth in a heartbeat. Hearing its mistress, the creature bolted in he direction of the sound, as a purple gasbag ceased its reign of plague the second his lord was carted off. It would not lose him yet. There were no alternatives! "This way!" Gina continued, her finger pointing in the direction of the Pokemon center, which was not far at all.

In but a minute, the trek to the Pokemon center was complete. Few people braved the billowing smog outside, so the streets were emptied. The smog aloe probably drained Phil of all his breath, leaving him exhausted and miserable. Upon entering the Pokemon center however there was merely… salvation! Yes, from rustle, hustle, and bustle, this place was a heavenly contrast. Fresh air conditioners provided a much needed salvation to the lungs. The place was very sparsely filled, contrasting that of the city with probably less than a hundred people in sight. Heck, there probably weren't even half that many people. The walls seemed well kept and maintained, glistening with seemingly unpeeled paint, and clean tiled floors and ceilings. In short, this place was a salvation!

It wasn't every day though that dead tired kids with a man tied up while he laughed without a care in the world entered your house, was it? Its almost ensured that this would garner attention of a helpful nature. "Dear me!" came an effeminate voice, followed shortly by the presence of the woman who owned it. This seemed to be a person of caring nature. A woman of pink hair, and perhaps endless hospitality in need of no introduction, except perhaps for a name we all know well. "Are you children ok?" she asked. There was no doubt this woman was anything but hope of surviving until tomorrow. Her sweet voice would either make you feel at great peace, or be nice enough to make you vomit.

Phillip coughed and wheezed. He had been doing so for a bit now, all dizzy with bad toxins plaguing and darkening the bloody airways of his inner body. "Need fresh air!" he spoke, his words constantly disrupted by toxicity empowered coughing. He really didn't feel like telling a long winded story when he was feeling… well, winded.

It was hearty hospitality, as the boy and girl went to sit by the couch to relax. Phil grunted breathlessly, hacking up a blackened grossness of phlegm. Disgustingness aside, there was a garbage bin by his side. The wooden cylindrical object was covered by a bag of flimsy plastic. Its purpose to keep the wooden woven meshing clean.

"That's disgusting!" retorted Gina in repugnant disgust. She too had been coughing uncomfortably as well. She didn't seem to have it as badly as the Molson boy though, or so you'd think. In an instance, she stood up. Had she gills, they'd have been green. "Uh, excuse me!" she spoke quickly, dashing off for whatever form of sanitary vomit holes could be found.

This left Phillip alone. Alone to mull about life, and how rotten everything had become. The need for blood, his gone yet unforgotten sister, lying cur Mr. Brenetmos the attractive Gina, dastardly insane Jimmy, a misfortunately accused Totodile, heck his mind even wander towards his recently caught Spinirak which he knew nothing about. '**** it! Why me?' he wondered. Would life be worth it? Would it not just be better to die now? All these thoughts plagued him. It felt like death was indeed the best answer.

That is of course until he noticed a television hanging from a shelf on the wall. "And now back to $c003ee D00d!!!11 pn 1337 +V!" spoke the television as all sorts of numbers and improperly cased letters roamed. Zeroes, and the number 1337 seemed to dominate the screen. Surely, it'd be enough to fry a genius' brain… unless of course they were a computer genius.

This was channel 1337. Where things are spelled wrong and spoken wrong because its funny that way. It was one of Phillip's favorite channels too. 'Whoever did that for me, thank you!' he sighed with wheezed relief. If not forever, then let his mind be off the throngs of painful reality for just but a while.

The TV began to speak again. "L31k +h1$ 1$ 1337!11!1ONE. J1nXX0rz!!11" went an odd bum in a green shirt as suddenly the screen frazzled out. A number in bold font and bright, laser green promptly made itself visible in the lower right corner. It clearly meant one thing. CHANNEL CHANGE! The boy quickly looked about to find and bemoan the perpetrator. He would never get to it though, for in a cascade of green hair, he saw who it was. It was Gina, with a simple television remote in her hand.

As he began to yell the word 'Hey' at her, she interrupted him. "Oh c'mon. That channel is bad for you. Besides, I want to watch 'Saving Private Raikou.'" she said. "It's a good film. Part of the long and interesting autobiography of a military man named Noldin Spacro." she decided to explain for the sake of conversation, "Its called 'Behind the Spacro, Meaning of War' and it's a big hit still. It seems however, that commercials were still not completed with their brevity yet.

On the screen was seen a few poorly drawn cartoon men. Merely lines of ink on a white background, they too had no coloration. A man with a heavy accent spoke. "Vonderful!" it was clear that some of his V's were actually W's. "Granbull Enagy Drink!" his accent poorly done seemed not to remove the meaning of the words spoken. "Don't you know? Granbull gives you Ving Attacks!" finished the no so funnily accented man as the commercial came to an end.

"Yea. I'm sure the story is wonderful!" Phillip spoke in sarcasm. What did he want to hear about war right now? Nothing! Blood, violence, and politics all meant nothing. The Molson boy coughed again. "Well, have fun!" he stood up. He needed to cool down. Now deprived of the brain rotting salvation of R0XX0R3$+ channel around, Phil needed something to ease his painful existence. 'I need a drink!' He didn't mean alcohol.

 

[Dilasc]

Here's some more, since I'm now a fave of the month, I might as well show more attention to my work the way I've been attentive at other places.

Dust to Deceit

Chapter 7: In Chef's Clothing

Water, as plaintive as it seems, this clear liquid was everything. In spite of its transparency, this liquid was everywhere, and never was there enough to drink! Suffice to say, the glistening cup before Phillip Molson could have been concocted in a mixture with rat poison and dry wall would not deter his desperation. How long had it been since his last intake of refreshing liquid? Perhaps about a day, and he was parched.

It was here, at the Pokemon Center's cafeteria, that Phil would quench his extreme need for liquid fill. Much akin to one at schools, there were trays for food and food aplenty. But unlike school, people seemed to give a **** for fine polishing and nay but a few scraps of paper littered the floor. Heck, even the undersides of the tables were sparkly clean. You couldn't even find as little a wad of once chewed gum… under any table if you went out of your way and looked. The food didn't look half bad either. In fact, he'd be certain that most of the food wasn't going to crawl out your stomach through any orifices, not until fully completed digestion anyway.

It almost made him wonder if he was still in this huge, polluted city. Truth be known, he would have, were it not for the window that showed torn down apartments and skyscrapers aplenty as all was pelted down by loud droplets of rainwater, which only piled up his parched need for liquid in the soul and throat!

The boy parted his arid lips as the glass of icy cold transparency quickly went to work. In an instant, the dry was washed out in a splash of cool, rejuvenating salvation! The icy water sending a slight chill of relief through his body. There was no time to savor the taste! The sand in his throat was long without aquatic touch, making it almost foreign to have it again. It would not matter though, for after many more cups of glistening, sparkling purity, a relief would wash over at long last. The glass even felt refreshing to his punctured palm, though returning to normalcy, it still stung, and badly!

After all that much water, he did none other than, you guessed it, he sighed with icy cold air in greatly over exaggerated relief. If it were life on the stage as he so earned, icy clouds of dry ice would spew forth. Like any overdose of liquid though, one thing is for certain. 'I gotta find the bathroom!' and with his bladder full of water, he was off from the graciously heavenly cafeteria… to excrete liquids he seemingly just put in.

As he was pissing off, Gina was buckled down, deeply immersed with the movie onscreen. There, on that screen of glorious radiation eye poisoning lights was a man of great muscle. With hair of dirt blonde, and muscles aplenty, you could tell he was somebody you thanked your lucky stars for if he was on your side, especially in the battlefield of war. As this scene seemed set, a voice of narration seemed to dominate. 'Good buddy Surge always seemed to have a positive attitude, or at least, as positive as could be when you're bathed in the blood of your enemies.' The big man, Surge, unleashed from his side none other than the red and white glory of none other than a Pokeball, which unleashed in its common beam of red… another Pokeball? No, this thing had hands, and arms! Muscular arms, biceps that would rival that of the man who released the beast were it not for the size difference. The body of the creature was spherical, with an upper body of pure red, and dark grayish-white on its lower half. Its face was that of smirking eyes an a well pronounced mouth with teeth that blended with the white of its stomach. Its arms seemed to take on one of these colors too as they extended from the color split between both halves. The left was of the gray-white, and red was that of the other arm. These arms were raging with unnaturally strong muscles.

'Ah, Ion! It was Surge's best, and bravest pokemon. You probably think that is some Electrode with arms. That is indeed what an Ion is, or at least, it is what it's evolved from. With arms built for fighting, it was a hell of a nasty thing to go up against, especially with an even more explosive way of life. It was,' the narrator sighed, 'and man oh man did Surge cry the day that brave Ion passed away… but that's another story.' the narration seemed to end at that, picking an oddest of times to roll for more commercials.

Gina sighed and stretched her arms. The movie was pretty good so far, no questions asked. After all, every single volume in the series was stellar. For a man with a gun, he sure was emotional to be able to write about his whole military life. 'The Spacronicles', as it was called, was simply a breathtaking series of biographical adventures and they were Gina's favorite. She lived by them, the story of a killing leading to the need for more blood as the powers of lust contort his very soul, making him need to feed his eyes, eye candy if you will, in the form of crimson blood. He craved it! It was a drug. There was never any suffering, just a quick, bloody death! It would then end in a painfully scary realization of the murderous monstrosity he'd become when… well, that's a secret.

It is because of these books that Gina had been against killing, no matter how bad a person may be. Death was not the answer. People are people after all, and everyone needs a chance. If killing in cold blood was allowed in war, then people could become uncontrollable savages of doom who kill just because they had the craving. It's as bad as cigarettes, but it kills thrice as much, given the chance. That was one of the morals of 'The Spacronicles.'

Over an hour passed, completing in full the movie 'Saving Private Raikou' proved to be as flawless as the story it was taken from. Time enough was this to revive from carcinogen, travel and fatigue in luxury. But while kids recuperated, the lady of hospitality seemed to take time to talk to a certain lovable nutcase. "Now Jimmy," began the lady of the pink, "I dunno what you're up to today, but you've gone out getting yourself in a heap of trouble. I need you working in the kitchen!" Fact was, she hadn't heard what the heck happened out there. "Do explain yourself…"

The setting was simple. It was the boss' office, and lady of hospitality was indeed the boss around here. An office desk with papers scrambled about with paperwork to be done. The life of a nurse really was complex. This was Jimmy she was speaking to. Foolish, uncontrollable, psychopathic Jimmy. "Hey pretty lady! You have pink hair! Whee!" he was still himself, only now he was untied. He was a danger to all once again.

The nurse blinked nearly five times in but a second before she replied to that, suffice to say a bit red with both anger and flustering embarrassment. "Uh…" She began. How on earth does one acknowledge that sort of answer? Heck, fact be known, that wasn't even an answer, that was just whack! That's right, whack! Freaky! Insane, senseless. Something was different about the Jimmy she knew. "Where on earth did you get all those nose rings, and eye rings… and any other rings?" Something was wrong! Jimmy seemed different. It was, unexplainably, rest assured that this was Jimmy, but he was INSANE, or so he seemed.

"Oh nursey babe!" came a rather familiar voice from beyond the door. Without even a polite knocking warning, the doors opened, revealing… Jimmy? Odd, he looked just like… Jimmy, but there was no rings mutilating his body, and he was dressed like a chef. In puffy white chef hat, and white chef apron that read 'Kiss the Cook'. "I've finished up some spicy Squirtle Turtle Soup with Bellsprout powder seasoning!" he declared in his Jimmy voice, following it up with the oh so nerve raking laughter that many have come to love or hate.

"Sounds good." went the dark-pink haired woman. "I'll be glad to help myself to some too if I may." she smiled as the pierce bodied Jimmy still sat in front of her as the door shut itself. Typical of this situation though, the nurse of course opened the door. "Jimmy!" she shouted, dashing into the finely tidy walls of the hallway, scattering papers from her desk as she went.

"Oh hello, nursey babe!" went the chef-wearing version of psycho. "You sure like hassling with my psycho half brother don't you." he grinned, providing the laugh that made famous for chapters now. "I do hope you remember that my family is a lot like yours." the grin faded not, though his voice sounded solemner than anything the psycho could ever muster.

She knew the story, not well, but she indeed knew it. The legacy of Jimmy was an interesting one. Unlike her own Joy Luck Nurse Club story, Jimmies were diverse. Indeed they all looked alike, all using their Jimmy laugh, happy nature and tendency to outburst the word "WHEE!" No two Jimmy were ever identical in occupation.

"Right… how COULD I forget?" the nurse known as Joy remarked, rolling her eyes, shrouding horribly from the embarrassment of the mistake she had made with sarcasm. Something however didn't seem right all of the sudden. An eerie sense of wrong loomed in the air. "Wait, what did you say he was?" her eyes were wide pure terror. If Jimmy had said what she thought he did…

In a burst of speed though, a pile of papers scattered into the hallway as a loud, nerve-wracking laugh echoed menacingly as it lingered on the ears of all who were unfortunate enough to hear it. "WHEEEE!" the psycho's voice rang and lingered as he dashed like a loony as he kicked open an unshut door.

Gina leapt from the couch she had long been resting on and literally hit the moon and beyond. "Oh no!" she choked on her words in fear, as her knees trembled beneath her. Jimmy was free, and running rampant. It was no doubt that he'd cause untold amounts of mischief.
"Ooh! Girlie!" smiled the ring faced whacko. "WHEE!" he shouted as he launched himself towards her like a homing missile without recourse. His face still maintained its unwavering giddiness. Potted plants tipped over, leaving fresh black soil to spill to the tiled floor. "We can have fun!"

His grasp was firm. He was, after all, a crazy person, and you should never hit a crazy person! He giggled in his insanely unsurprising way, grinning wildly with eyes that stared deep into nothingness as they stared down the grappled girl. "Whee!" he repeated loudly and happily.

Peace and quiet. It may have been a public bathroom, which not even the best of housecleaning could maintain, but it was quite an empty place. Molson boy seemed to enjoy simply lazing around with his pants down in a locked bathroom stall. As odd as it seemed, it was… relaxing. For once, he was truly alone, and he savored every drawn out second of 'me time.' For a few hours now, Phil enjoyed nothing more than silence disturbed only by dripping waters and running pipes. After all, there was no such thing as complete and utter silence. If not the noises around you, then surely the ringing within his head would have been the disturbance instead. A ringing that would irk any who dared listen to it long enough.

Suffice to say, nothing is eternal. It would not have mattered much what the noise was, if it were anything but that incessantly aggravating laugh. Oh how it turned his brain into a vulnerable ball of bruised slop. It would haunt the poor lad for the rest of his life, knowing that his dear sister had been tormented by that sick man with his sickening personality. It was a mystery to himself why he let that man live! Better to spill his blood and end him now than let him get to a possible escape. There'd be no lingering pain, just a quick and bloody death. Yes, bloody. The thought made Phillip almost smirk until he realized he was almost salivating. His head snapped upwards as he blinked with a shudder. This was a nightmare, and he wanted to end the pain, before it would end him.

It was in this anger that he almost forgot to catch himself with his pants down. Worse yet, he was about to run out of the stall just like that, definitely something that'd make matters even worse. It was fortunate for all that he did remember, even the decency to follow up with the ways of the toilet flush, and round and round the water spun, a cyclone of icky water drained to the sewers beyond, directionally swirling at the whims of the hemisphere.

It only made matters worse that he boy didn't take the time to wash his hands. Gross! This was only further complicated with the sight before him as he opened the door. There, standing beside the hospitality lady of pink in the hallway, was Jimmy! He was without his rings or bruises, but that didn't matter, he was still the same loony, and would die all the same, "Hello Jimmy!" his teeth were clenched through his words. "Having fun?" he smiled, still with teeth clenched.

"Uh…" began the cooking man with confusion. "What?" he asked. The man was a bit afraid, after all, the boy did disperse an air of uncomforting danger.

"Do not play dumb with me!" roared the boy. It was time to restrain his criminal once and for all. For his second time ever on his quest of shame, he opened a Pokeball. In a flash of infrared formed six hairy yellow legs attached to a hairy spider body. "Uh…" the human boy began in stammering confusion. He had no idea what this creature was called, or how on earth to command an attack.

It only made matters worse when the arthropod stared back up at the human boy with a sad look of horror. HE had kicked it. He used his accursed human technology and trapped the poor spider in the Pokeball. It couldn't of happened at a worse time for the poor spider, for it was on its way to mate at long last in its short life. Oh so many female spiders awaited the poor little creature. Now, he was nothing but an angry spider with an overflow of sexual frustration. There would be no easy way to relieve this tension, thanks in part to the spiders odd build that'd make grasping a tad tough. It instead resorted to stringing up the face of the human that ruined his simple hormonal life with a tear in each eye. If he was to be a broken spider, he might as well make things worse for the human who dared start it all.

"Hey!" Phil yelled as string began to form, grabbing the spider forcefully with both hands. "What the hell is your problem?" His only response was the razor swish of white fangs. From the tip of one of the pointy appendages, a clear liquid seemed to hang on the edge. It was a tinted liquid, that of a brightly colored shade, though the definite color behind the tint was a bit hard to decipher. 'Venom! This twit's trying to kill me!' his mind went as he tossed the spider to the ground in rage, disrupting its focus. He then proceeded to grasp it again. "Listen here you little dipstick," the Molson boy's voice rang with angry authority. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but if you EVER try and bite me again, I will rip off all your legs and let you suffer by not letting you die!" his voice was not stable, as he hissed the words while his lower lip quivered in total madness. It was as though you'd expect eye twitching any second now. "Ya know what next?" he taunted the poor bug mercilessly, "When that's done, I'm gonna laugh and laugh and laugh! I'll tell others to laugh at you too, you pitiful slime!" his intimidating tone rang deep into the little creature. The human seemed to have it in for him, as fear kept the small critter in check.

It seemed that he practically forgot that there were people about. "Uh, kid. You need to learn some respect." Following that, the chef unleashed the trademark family laugh, which reminded Phil that both and the nurse lady were standing in front of him this whole time. It was all Phil needed to snarl again.

"Stop that god **** laughing!" the angry Molson boy roared as he stamped his foot at the ground. "Now…" the Molson boy continued loudly in anger. "Use your webbing on that ugly one who dared to speak!" he commanded the spider forcefully. "This is the end Jimmy! When you get to hell, I'll be glad of the precious time we'll not share this same plane of corporeal existence." yes. That was a thought. It'd be heaven in itself to purge life of this scourge to his existence. For whatever likely few years it would be, this short time would be worth an eternity sharing hell with that dastardly laughing menace. There was no response tough from the spider as it stared at the boy, tilting its head with no understanding of the words told. "**** it! Use that stringy stuff before I squash you under the soles of my shoes!" he demanded again. There was nothing. All that had come to pass was the sight of widening black spider eyes, and six quivering yellow arachnid legs.
Chef Jimmy unleashed a sigh from his lips, as his voice filled with a seriousness. "I know what you're thinking." he took a pause, holding his arms out for a moments peace. "Trust me though, when I say right now that you're looking for my half brother." he spoke, fear on his face, lest he face the deadly venom of a spider's bite.

"It's true." chimed in the lady of the pink. Her face turned stern. "If you dare attack my chef…" she stood protectively in front of the man, as if to take a bullet meant for him. "then I wont let you sty at my Pokemon Center." her arms folded in front of her chest calmly. "Its bad enough you seem to treat your Spinarak like a slave and with no value to its life!" she had seen the whole thing. "I hope you know love goes loads further than idle threats!" she sighed as she ended her speech.

"Lady, my threats will not be staying idle!" the boy said with a loud shout of assurance.

"Well neither will mine." the woman retorted. "You won't be welcome here!" her arms were folded, as all seriousness seemed to linger in every word. Her eyes were cast away. "I will heal your Pokemon after we catch that maniac, but I will demand that you leave right afterwards unless you act more humane!" It almost sounded as though the woman was about to cry.

In a mere second, Phil bolted back from the world of lusted blood and revenge! Kicked out! No! He needed to stay here for a night! He was tired, battered, and moody. He'd go insane if he couldn't take but a brief moment for relaxation in a bed. Surely there was nowhere else he could go. If he didn't have this time to rest, he would surely die! His heart sank at the thought. 'I've failed my sister. I guess when the hells freeze over during visiting day, I'm sure I'll be allowed to see my sister. I know they have visiting day every five hundred years at least,' his brain slammed itself against mental warfare and dreadful thoughts… 'But then again, three hundred years is not even a million days in length.'

It was at that moment that a scream seemed to fill all three humans that there was indeed something wrong around here. The scream had a feminine ring to it, as the sounds of slamming doors seemed to hastily remind with an oh so disturbingly familiar laugh. There was no way that this Jimmy here could be that skilled of a ventriloquist. "My brother! We have to stop him. Whee!" went Jimmy as he clenched the puffy white chef's hat into his hands nervously to twist up the fabric for soothing energy release.

"Fine then!" Phil sighed with great caution. Something about this all felt so wrong, but he would trust them for now… 'Gina, oh god no! If you die, know that you will be missed. It should be me!' His mind snapped back. He bolted towards the noise, returning to the main hall.

Gina was there, her eyes wide in fear as she stayed sprawled on the couch, apparently and thankfully unhurt. It made Phil's extremely hyperactive heartbeat soften up just a bit to know she was safe. "Gina!" he ran to her. He had to make sure though. "Are you alright?"

She smiled slightly at the sight. "Yes, I'm just fine." she reassured slowly. "Thank you for your concern." she added, just because it was polite. "Jimmy didn't do anything to me though." she half lied, wishing not to cause the death of an unfortunate man. After all, Jimmy never asked to be mentally challenged. He did pounce on her indeed, but he didn't do anything for practically half a minute except for the word Whee and other babble that would make redneck high school dropouts seem like Einstein. To say though that she felt she could simply die at that moment would be an understatement. Death would have likely been too easy an easy escape, though the mind of a twelve year old may disagree with such logic.

A smile formed on Phil's lips, as his heart felt warm for what he felt may have been the last time ever. There was something about this girl that made him feel needed, wanted… he would do his best for her if he had to, or take his own life if the command, less likely than lottery victory, were to arise! As much a need as it was, he wondered. Would she be safe…

There'd be no more time for thinking! "Whee!" blurted the stable minded Jimmy as he opened the door. "Where'd my brother go?" wondered Chef Jimmy. It was odd. The scream indeed was in here. Where had that dangerous man gone? It was a question that needed answering. 'I blame mom for his way.' he sighed. Abused kids are not often known to be the most stable of adults.

Now it was Gina's turn to lay eyes on the mirror image decked fully in chef gear. Facts remained though. This man had the same spiky black hair, the same Jimmy voice, and same Jimmy laugh, not to mention the power of the enthusiastic 'Whee' Going agape, her chin would have likely dropped all the way through to the other side of the planet had the laws of cartoon physics any say in the lore of reality.

"Look…" began Phil with a sigh. "I know what you think, but I can assure you, this isn't him! We don't honestly have time for the explanation again, got it?" he eyed Jimmy. Could he truly believe all this? Was this Pokemon Center not all it seemed? He without skepticism would rue this day. "But if it is… he'll be sorry." he sneered to make his point. 'Why on earth did they seem to stall there?' he eyed about as the nurse stepped in from the hallway at long last with a green little spider standing at her side, nervous and afraid.

Gina smiled at the little insect. It looked so timid and scared, natural when you stand beside many of the one species that dominates the food chain "Hello!" she said calmly. "Who's Spinarak is this?" she wondered. "Is there something wrong with it?" she tilted her head like a pendulum in a clock, though slower, and more controlled between sways.

"It's just fine." the nurse smiled with fakery, before releasing the guise and glaring daggers the size of claymores at Phillip. "Though it does suffer from a case of dangerous, unstable trainer." This woman of pink was glaring daggers at the boy.

Gina eyed Phil. "When did you catch your own Pokemon?" she wondered, more confused over the fact Phil already had a Pokemon. 'He has no clue what he's doing! How could he possibly have caught one before I could?!' her eyes did well to hide such jealous competitiveness. After all, things truly would not become bad. Here was a boy who knew nothing about Pokemon. Perhaps it was a mere stroke of luck that let him attain the arachnid beast. "I mean…" she resumed, ready to ramble on endlessly, just like a woman would, but a clang of metal reminded that there was a nut job somewhere around here.

Phil sighed as he thought how he could explain this simply. "Let's just say, I was pissed, and the little runt caught me with my pants down!"

"Oh no! My precious kitchen!" the sane Jimmy gasped. That was the sound of clashing pans and dishes. "I hope he doesn't find the pies I made!" he panicked as he ushered the lazy chatters before him to get a move on. "C'mon! Chimrax, we may need your help." he exclaimed as a poke ball swiftly opened itself before him.

The sight before him was that of a lion… mostly. With blue fur and a mane of light orange around it like he true king of the jungle would want. However, this was no lion. Behind that mane of fur, necks seemed to sprout differently. On the right side, long white goat fur seemed to stray, with silvery horns upon its goat head. On the other side of its body seemed the most out of place head of all, a snakes! Yellowish green and with more scales than Beethoven's work, it all opened at a beaklike snout. Its back legs seemed akin to those of the goats, hardened and indeed hooves of green. The front legs were those of the mighty lion. Upon its back though were wigs of yellow, with light pink undersides and a few clawed fingers. It was a dragon's head, not a snake's. Most different though was the tail. It was a simple red thing, adorned with spikes enough to make a porcupine jealous, and they were even scattered about more randomly as well. As large and deadly as it sounded, it didn't stand any taller than Phil's shoulders, and seemed quite lean as well.

The creature did not interest Phil in the least. "Please keep your hat on before it winds up missing!" Phil's voice snapped bitterly at the man with the voice he had come o find synonymous with loathing! 'Your head will share your hat's fate if you don't cork up that evil laughter!' He sighed away his angry thoughts, knowing they would not just leave. They would return, and would be thrice as bad when they did. So be it, but he was ****ed to be sure that he would not let them get in the way here and now.

Scrambling like eggs, the Molson dashed for the door to the kitchen. As he opened it, all seemed quiet... too quiet! There was nobody in sight, and the only option of evasive doorways was that into the kitchen itself. After all, this was just the cafeteria. "Weenie in the HOLE!" came an irritably loud outburst, scaring a good half year off Phil's life.

The sane adults present made a disgusted flinch, for many a sexual innuendo could be easily discovered in those freaky words.

"Jimmy!" yelled Phil, having not been in the mood for games since life stabbed him in his back and told him how much it hated him. Before he could react to anything, he was nailed! Bull's-eyed quite effectively… with a pie. Of all things to be attacked with as a mess of gooey fruit, dairy and bread crust melded into one big pie face.

"It would be funny if it weren't for the context of all of this." sighed the sane Jimmy. It was just like in those movies, but Jimmy feared his head would be ripped off and digestive excretion would fill his headless body. It was only worsened by the animosity that the Molson boy held towards his accursed voice. It seems dessert was now ruined. If only there had been more lessons on playing with your food…

 

[Dilasc]

Man, the Fanfic section here is very dead! What gives? Meh, anyway, here's another chapter. Don't forget o review, folks.

Dust to Deceit

Chapter 8: Family Guys

In an instance, the world went white! A strong heavy stench lofted about… it smelled like blueberries, and a hint of lemon. In a slow, yet fluid, as well as dramatically slow, motion, Phillip Molson's hands swept across his face, pulling away lumps of creamy white lemon icing, his bloodshot eyes red with fury as they were removed from their shroud of sugary sweets. Following the clearing of his eyes like underpaid windshield wipers on torrential rain spells, a finger rose to his mouth, the white mess gone as it left the digestive starting line. "Yick!" he cringed. "Lemon…" he murmured. It was bad. A blend of lemon and blueberries both that made him want to vomit enough to engulf the sun in spew. Ironic though how lemonade was good, but lemons were not.

Just because life is fun like a powerful bullet to the brain, another pie made its home upon the boy's forehead and wavy hair. Unlike the first pie, his vision was left unhindered by creamy goodness. He snarled at this, dabbing his hand swiftly into the gooey mess in his hair. This time the creamy goo was pink. Like before, he decided to chow down. Strawberries… naturally. After all, pink was ALWAYS strawberry... or watermelon. Good to eat and all of that, but Phil was not in the mood. He hungered for something else.

Come to think about it, the bullet to the head was beginning to make Phil all warm inside. If not his head, then either of the Jimmy brothers would both would be fine choices for warm bloodletting. But the asinine pie thrower was far out of reach now. Needless to say, he'd call the fool jack-asinine, or maybe just to confuse himself even less, Jim-asinine. Sure, words can hurt, but then again, talk is cheaper than any item at the dollar store, and a wooden stick is always many times more effective than some vocal wind whoosh.

With the fears of life suddenly sapping away, Phil grabbed both pie tins and slammed them against the floor, creating a loud clang, and sending pink and white creamy goodness everywhere, from floor, to table, and even the ceilings. As for the pie tins, one was still in fine condition, the other seemed to bend inwards, as though it were shutting itself inward. "Well?" he yelled, loud and angry, "You guys wanna help stop this schmuck?" he glowered back. Though the door was closed behind him, it was safe to say, the burning in his eyes practically melted all barriers away, and a chill went up the spines of all sane beings who heard him.

It wasn't even a second of hesitation before the door swiftly opened behind him. "Phillip, what happened?" asked Gina. It was as she ran in with the chaos of it all that she too was soon nailed with food for thrash. This time however, instead of the bright and sweet colorful treat that is pie, red seemed to dominate. A thick and chunky red, with white, chunky, and nearly mold, and flimsy yellow pieces of flat rectangles, frilled along the longer edges scattered about upon impact, smashing it all to the floor, while many small pieces of brown, seemingly meaty particles swarmed about the floor. Truth be known, as funny as it may look, getting hit by a fast moving piece of food hurts the spirit, while the metallic dish hurts wherever it smacks the unsuspecting victim. Gina looked about her as the food, whatever it was, made a mess of red and white in her hair. She felt as though she could cry.

"My Lasagna!" screamed the chef. "WWWH…" he caught himself as Phillip's eyes threatened to melt the sun into three liters worth of ashes, which would also be melted, especially because ashes don't form from melting, especially from a giant nuclear solar body like the sun.

He was not angry so to say, Phillip Molson was freaking pissed to be blunt! "Don't SAY IT!" h roared in rage unconcerned with the fact that a three headed beast, both lion and serpentine seemed to have their eyes on the boy as the beast stood loyally and obediently by its master like a protective dog.

"My brother found the lasagna! Oh no!" Chef Jimmy was in panicked fearful frenzy. All his 'oh so time consuming to make unto grand perfection' dishes were being thrown away… or rather, thrown at people, instead of being eaten by them. He took great pride in the dishes he cooked. PRIDE... all gone to waste.

Actually, it wasn't going to total waste, as an ever afraid of losing its limbs Spinirak scuttled in on its luckily still present legs. With a slight sniff at a pink clump of strawberry slop on the floor, dabbed with a tad of marinara sauce, and pieces of lasagna beef, the spider's nasal capacity concluded one thing: Food, Hungry, Smell Good! Well, so MAYBE it was three things. Regardless, the little spider's thorax began to rumble in desperate need, the noise was almost cute, a pint sized version of a human stomach churn when food was needed en masse. Cautiously, the creature's pincers began to shovel in globs of pink, the taste of strawberry, new and incredible, was much enjoyed by the little spider as it cheered its name in joy, tasting the pieces of meat and enjoying them too. Even the sauce tasted great! It was a… perfect meal… well, at least for an empty stomach, and furthermore it was new. Never before had the yellow-green arachnid feasted upon tomatoes before, let alone a saucy entr?e.

Such a shame that taskmaster Phillip did not think this was a good time for a picnic, and leaving not much food to be cleared from the floor, his arm lashed swiftly at the spider, grabbing its thorax in a tight gripping squeeze in the pal of his hand. As he spoke to it, his voice sounded eerily happy, though his unstable shaking made it seem like he were a clockwork robot ready to go Ka-Boom. "Hello there." He sounded as though he was extra happy, his voice softer than a machete through hot butter, but lighter than helium… and it likely meant life was out to get him egged on yet again. "Are you enjoying the nice food?" his grasp was tight. Though his arm hardly had the size to grasp the spider's width in the fullest, it did do its job of being a firm grip. The arachnid, of course, was terrified beyond death. It hardly moved a muscle, not even to breathe, fearing so much that its end may have been nigh. "Well, how about some heartwarming love?" his faux cheer illuminated as he continued to speak. Swiftly, his other hand grasped tightly around the creature's tiny neck. Had the power of squeeze, he'd likely have ripped the creature's segmented body apart right then. His voice suddenly became sweeter, as though the pie had lunged in and merged with his voice box "If you ever want to make it to tomorrow, you will stop being a lazy, useless waste of exoskeleton! If you can't stomach the pain, I'll rip your stomach out." his voice, though rasping, was still lighter than the tiniest, lightest hummingbird feather.

The poor spider was beyond paralyzed in pure terrified horror. Oh how it yearned for the simple life. At least the birds and beasts that threaten to eat your corpse don't have much in the way of psychological warfare. Out there, its merely the way and circle of life, but here, the gleam of disaster was radiantly present in the human's eyes. Perhaps this is why humans were said to be feared, or so the chitin covered creature was beginning to believe. This boy made him jump out of his exoskeleton thrice over in but a half and hour, and thrice more before that half an hour ended would it indeed bounce in and out of its hardened arachnid skin rest assured.

All eyes were on Phillip, wide and likely scared to death. "Now, lets go and shred that cretin Jimmy limb from limb and laugh at him as he dies, and if you don't make yourself useful, your fate shall mirror his!" his voice was still dripping of honey and maple syrupy sweetness. "Have I made myself clear?" his cheery voice remained. Without a second thought in its primitive mind, the Spinirak nodded as best it could, considering the choke hold upon its breathing capacity. "Good!" his voice sounded five pitches too high and girly, as though he was freaking out. "Now I'm going to give you a chance to prove yourself useful." his voice dripped exaggerated happiness like a waterfall off the edge of the earth.

"Phillip!" cracked a shocked, feminine voice from behind him. In a snap, he swiftly shifted his eyes to the source of objection, all so suddenly wishing he hadn't. It was Gina. The green haired girl he'd never betray heard EVERYTHING! She heard every disturbing sound, saw every insane eye twitch, witnessed every violent act of verbal abuse. The extreme amount of shock on her face shown was almost impeccably noticeable.

Phil suddenly wanted to curse the day he was born, as he snapped back to reality. He felt like a large jagged rock had been clear plunged upwards through his bowels up into and through his brain, except he was still alive, and remained awake through every excruciating moment of what felt should suddenly be the last seconds of his life, as his face paled, seconds later reddened by a panicked rush of blood to his head.

As he tried to speak, the words he said strangled his neck, making him incapable of spewing anything but choked gasps and incoherent words from his mouth. He wanted to just lay down now as many pairs of eyes were focused heavily upon him. "I…" he gasped as he caught a breath, panicked, desperately wracking his brain for a most plausible excuse, but none to be found.

Her eyes blinked nervously, aghast as she spoke again. "Phillip! Let the poor thing breathe!" her voice was demanding. She had every right to be too, considering the strangling situation. Phil had not even thought of releasing his tightened grip from the poor little creature's delicate spidery neck.

As Phil absorbed her retort, he wanted to jump to the moon and be just as light as if he were really there. All that worry, all that blood rush it was for nothing! He wanted to melt softly like a stick of butter in between the cracks in the floor and be one with the earth, just because such a thought was really, really offbeat, in a hippie sort of way. Yet all this time, his firm choke hardly loosened from the spider's neck. It was now only that he even realized it. "Oh, right!" he nodded, not really caring if the little critter turned into a glob of bug juice or insect blood, as he released the spider, only to let it drop roughly to the floor as it panted heavily for the sweet mercy of fresh breathable sweet air as its rear end kissed the ground with a soft thud as it then landed upside down.

Panic, and struggling overflowed through the spidery beast as it squealed its name in pained shrieks. Today began the first day of the Spinirak's ruined life, and it seemed to be starting off with a bang.

Jimmy's pokemon was apparently bored. Well, it didn't exactly have the greatest of attention spans. The dragon head was a slippery serpent though as it slowly slithered through the air above and around to the other side of he lion, a smirk upon its scaly lips as it gave the lion a slight poke on the shoulder, and quickly retracted before anyone could notice. Its mischievous deed had been done. The result was a bickering between the goat and the lion as they chanted the same name back and forth, both in very different tones.

Chef Jimmy meanwhile looked ready to have a good old conniption as he raised his voice. "My brother's gonna ruin my kitchen!" he whined like a little girl, the stretch of the situation of a mere kitchen at risk seemed to be a top priority in the human's crazy mind.

Phil of course, felt like complete crap, and all who had dare try and irritate him would feel the same way, so he would deem the order of the universe! "Fine…" he sighed. He hated Jimmy's guts! He quickly sent his eyes to stare back at Gina. Her eyes were pure and caring. Deep pools of soft brown that he felt could never betray him. 'Yet I've already betrayed her! She doesn't deserve a person like me!' he frowned. "Uh, Gina…" he gulped "About all you just heard…" he stammered. How could he continue to dare try and tell lies. It was time to use some honesty!

"Not now Phillip!" she quickly interrupted, as a misaimed dish filled with lasagna smashed violently against the wall. The ceramic plate shattered into many sharp pieces as a smudge of oranges, reds and yellows stained the wall. There he was, the ring headed maniac was behind the cafeteria counter, and beyond him were many dishes and trays. "We'll discuss this later!" she retorted quickly and firmly. When she spoke like that, you KNEW she was going to live up to it.

"We have to restrain my brother now!" he was frantic "WHEE!" the fearful chef then blurted, graced by luck that Phil was too deep in his own world to care about the words he hates oh so much. "Joy's calling the authorities as we speak!" he added, just for reassurance.

This mere mentioning caught Phil's attention. "You're sending him to JAIL?" he yelled in anger.

"No! We're sending him to the tropical island country of Cubara, where he forever be plagued by Communism!" It was beyond obvious that sarcasm gushed from hi words like a powerful geyser from the very earth itself, rolling from the chef's drying lips.

Phil rolled his eyes at that. "Yes, and your sarcastic humor is so funny!" he added a little of his own just because. Suffice to say, if he had to hear WHEE or that accursed laugh much longer, then butcher knives would rain like hellfire upon all… Gina would be a victim that would likely lead to a depressive end for the Molson maniac! Regardless, there were reasons behind his curiosity. "Seriously though! Why send him to prison? The man's insane! He'll enjoy the place just because!" after all, if Jimmy made it out alive, then he wanted the boy to suffer where he could never torture another soul again. After all, prisoners, showers, and dropped bars of soap means there's little more that needs to be said about how entertainment is found. But even other criminals were better people than Jimmy, or so he believed.

It was at this point that the sound of breaking ceramic once again was heard crashing against the wall. This plate, or so it seemed, was an empty one.

The chef released a sigh at this point. "Did you not say that this man killed your sister… and worse before he killed her? Well, that's crime, and its very punishable by law." He did have a point it would seem. Of course, how would you feel if you had to put the lock down on YOUR brother.

But the Molson wasn't taken by it. "Send the man to an asylum! If he doesn't die by my will, then let him live in shambles and as close to misery as a happy-go-lucky fool can be!" He held his fist clenched tightly, feeling the strangulation urges of wind pipe constriction overflowing his mind as his eyes wandered to the ground for a moment of thought, only to lay eyes upon a struggling spider, helpless on its back. Immobilized as it was, it felt oh so tempting to simply step on the creature's soft underbelly and get rid of its miserable tarantulan presence once and for all!

That however was not going to happen. "Help the poor thing up!" yelled Gina as she pushed a small lock of verdant hair away from her smooth face. The sight of her could merely overwhelm Phillip if he stared too long into her brown eyes. "It's okat there." she smiled. Her words were not for Phil. Instead, they were for the helpless bug, flailing upside down on the floor in a conniption as her gentle touch reached out and slowly set the creature right side up.

As it was fixed, the spider wanted nothing more than to sink its fangs into the tiled floor and smooch the ground passionately for being able to remain alive as its many spidery eyes blinked as they gazed up at the green haired girl. Her voice was soft like a silk pillow, and just as comforting. This female human felt like the mother the arachnid never had because, well, technically the Spinirak species was never known as a species that usually meets their mother, except for the empty husk of an exoskeleton which is meant to be the creature's first meal upon hatching. From litters of several in number, it's a race to see who can get their fill of mother meat, and its every spider for themselves. Well, such was the old way of life.

It's a bug eat bug world out there in the wilds. Somehow this change, despite the cruelty, was indeed safer, should the wrath of the Molson not be invoked upon his spidery self. Still, even animals love to mate, and not just for survival, but every living creature wants to have fun. Heck, that's the fun of catching prey in the wild. The edible female Weedle capture can be much more than just a bittersweet meal. Suffice to say, such mating was possible. Yes, that female Weedle would sate the male's urges as he'd have his way with it, then devour its raped husk to quell the rumbling in its tummy, the eggs it could lay would never come to be. Yes, that was a life of pleasure. Its gaze was blank at the human. This emotion… love, kinship… it was new. Before this captivity, it was either eat or be eaten, now its be hated and then eaten alive by the hatred, on the other hand, if you seem to survive the hatred, your luck is only rewarded with more hatred.

"Lets go now!" shouted the chef Jimmy. "If he finds my Eepeetuna casserole I will KILL him!" he clenched his fist, only to have Phillip suddenly staring him straight in the face.

"No!" his voice was firm, yet angry, hissing like a garden snake. "I will kill him! Me! Got it?" he meant it too. There was no doubt that Phillip Molson would let ring-faced Jimmy walk away alive.

Unfortunately, in his enraged frustration, meanings can be forgotten in the world of brotherly love. Therefore, such sayings between siblings like 'I'm going to kill you!' really mean 'I love you, but its time for painful, brotherly noogies!' "I didn't really mean it like that." the Chef sighed. Despite all odds, that psycho man in there was indeed of direct blood. "That man is my brother, you see… and I love him." his head went downtrodden to the floor. "Do you know how painful it is to need to put down your own brother?" he asked, as tears threatened to roll down the cook's eyes. "He may have desecrated your sister, but he's still my brother, and despite the guilt on our family name, I still love him."

In turn, this made Phillip begin to think as well. "Then…" 'Hmm, I gotta make this sound good!' he sighed as he spoke again. "Then perhaps you'd be doing him the biggest favor a brother ever could, and end his sorrow and misery?" Did he mean a word of that? Not at all, but whatever it takes to spill Jimmy's blood to the last ounce, he would give up anything, even his own useless life if need be, and Phil was a performer at heart.

The chef's eyes were practically about ready to turn into a flooded lake as his nose sniffled slightly as he furrowed his left brow. With a slight rubbing of the stubble on his chin and a elongated sigh, he spoke again. "I'll consider it." his voice was not in the least bit pleased, but neither was it in the least bit enraged, it was a harsh neutrality, the guilt of the loss of his brother would be hard indeed. 'That kid already knows what its like. WHEE!' his mind couldn't let up a break as it forced a catch phrase into his mental notation. 'I hope my loss does not turn me cold like him. Not for my sake, but for the sake of others… and the sake of love.' His eyes shut as he tried to shut away mental images. To no avail however, as all that happened was the splashing of salty water upon the tiled floor. It was time to stop his half brother! The longer that was delayed, the less likely he could be dealt with. "Very well… lets just get to it!" he sighed yet again. He wasn't willfully ready to undergo such an case, but now there was little choice.

 

[Dilasc]

How about some reviews, folks? I feel so lonely... anyway, next chapter.

Dust to Deceit

Interlude 3 - Don't Steal My Thunder

Lightning crashed loudly as bright, white lightning ripped the dark grey sky with its brightness and booming thunder. It was a spectacle of light, energy and power, and amongst this super-cell thunderstorm that violently lashed about, a mysterious entity reveled and basked in its glory.

It seemed little more than a giant mask trailed by a wisping darkness that could chill even the most evil of humans. Its face was that of a dark yellow, a single demonic horn on its nose shaped like a yellow bolt of lightning. Patterns of blacks and sickly greens covered its mask face. It was without a doubt a storm fit for a lightning demon. It was a storm fit for Sparkoni's tastes and worthy of testing it's power.

Te beast was one of the Oni of Kertonmel. It was practically a god amongst men and Pokemon. As lightning crashed around it, it's horn began to glow a bright white, as charged ions and particles were practically ripped from the clouds and sent to the beast's blackened soul. It was energizing, and refreshing. After all, thunder was its most sustaining form of nourishment, second only to its demonic love for the souls of those doomed to eternal ****ation.

As the lightning calmed for but a few seconds in time, a white beast with massive wings became visible to the demon. It could tell that the beast was there to speak with him. It was, after all another beast of legend. <Lugia...> the masked beast mumbled grouchily as it saw the winged creature approach. All that really escaped its mouth was the word Oni, broken up in many different variations though, due to its inability to speak in human tongues.

The mask beast despised the legend. After all, what right did a foreigner have to make demands of what it does from so far away? Regardless, the Oni was not stupid enough to dare lash out against Lugia, as despising and intimidating as its appearance upon its turf could be.

Lugia, following the flow of an upward gale, glided swiftly to the mask creature and came to a halt before it. "Greetings, Sparkon,." it said in its telepathic voice.

The beast grunted, making no effort to hide its distaste for the winged legend of the sea. <You're a bit far from home, 'stranger'!> It hissed, the cackling sound of lightning and electrical sparks hissed loudly in every word that escaped from its mouth. It was practically breathing electrical pulses. <Aren't you a bit far from home?>

Lugia paused for a second as the thunderous words hit it's skull. Dealing with the Oni was never a treat for Lugia. They were dark, chaotic, and lacked tenacity for important tasks. There were, in a sense, lazy, but dangerous nonetheless. "Yes, I am far from Jhoto..." it paused to sigh, "and the sea as well."

Lugia felt so weakened by the lack of water in Kertonmel. The rivers were too thin, and the lakes were all well inhabited by man, beast, or both, and regardless of that, Lugia needed the sea. Not so much the water itself, but the moisture was a source of energy for Lugia. Kertonmel was far too arid. All in all, the legendary was quite homesick, but it was on a mission. "Sparkoni," it began in its telepathic tone. "Your hostility is understandable, but I urge you to listen."

The Oni rolled its red eyes and glared at the winged one as it finished. <Give me a good reason, 'stranger'!> Its electrical voice was still rasp and harsh toned. If not for the fear of the other legendaries and their retaliation, then the Oni would have fried the psychic bird then and there. It had the upper hand, and even Lugia knew that, with its powers of darkness and thunder to beat Lugia's wind, water, and psychic abilities.

"Do you know of the Orbital Occult?" Lugia asked in an honest tone. It already knew the answer, even without needing to read the dark mask's mind. Suffice to say, like most dark types, their minds were difficult to read, mainly because the vision received were often chaotic and unclear.

The legendary mask had a rather neutral appearance to the mention. <They... the Occult does not concern me with their petty, 'human' rituals.> The muscles on it's face twitched only slightly to prove how false that statement was. With a sigh, the mask beast spoke again, <Fine, they are a minor threat! They are only humans, after all!>

Lugia narrowed its gaze upon the thunderous Oni. "They have many great seers and strong divination magic. They have been able to gaze at a planet, amongst the cosmos!" Lugia paused, its eyes shutting for a second before opening widely, the psychic legend yelling loudly as it's eyes reopened. "GRETKAN!"

At this, the demon mask rolled it's red eyes once more. <Do you expect me to care about one of your personal vendettas?> The beast mask snarled. <You must have forgotten that I am a demon, and thus don't care about your need to protect humanity from themselves.>

"I expected as much." Lugia stated calmly, the bird's long neck nodding up and down a few times calmly. "Considering how you and your brothers perform the Viral Storm of Souls to rip destruction and chaos, I am not surprised." Lugia shuddered. The Oni 'brothers', as they were known were demons of dark powers. Suffice to say, they were siblings, but like most legendary beasts, they held no true gender.

The demon grinned, as a serpentine, snakelike tongue licked its lips, a pair of sharp, glowing white teeth shined for a brief second as its mouth opened. <Ah, yes, the rush! The power! The Storm... it is an undescribable ecstasy that thrills me to have been summoned to this plane of existence! It is what I live for, but YOU...> the mask glared at the winged legendary, <You and others of your pious ilk seek to ruin our fun!>

Lugia growled at this. The Oni fed on anger and fear! Not literally, but they did enjoy negative emotions, negative feelings, and pain. They were, after all, demons. "We defend this planet from usurpers like you and your brothers!" The legendary sea beast paused. "Hopefully, you will remember to behave."

<My brothers and I have been 'behaved' for five-hundred eighteen years.> The mask stated sternly. <Gee, hasn't been that many earth years since we were summoned?> It asked in a sarcastic tone. It soon dissipated, leaving the serious manner which the Oni were known for. <Since our first and ONLY Viral Soul Storm in this dimension.>

Lugia sighed. "It was once too many." The winged legend took on a harsh tone from there. "Kertonmel was nearly wiped out, and that ******* brother of yours, Spookoni, cursed all Numel and Camerupts world wide, irrevocably!"

The demon mask laughed lightly and heartily. <Ah, I remember that. The fear in the sacrificed camel was pure GOLD! Besides, I'd say they look better with shorter, stubbier legs!> The mask shrugged, as best as a face could without any shoulders to shrug. <No, that's a lie. I honestly just don't care.>

"Regardless." the winged one said in a serious tone. "You Oni are a nuisance!"

<We are demons.> the mask corrected. <The humans who summoned us should have realized that when you make a pact with a demon... bad things happen.> The beast mask grinned, as a bolt of lightning clashed behind it. The storm had died down quite a bit. After all, this storm was at the whim of the lightning demon who harnessed it, clashing thunderbolts and lightning to the world below for the mere purpose of chaos. <You know, I hate it when someone tries to steal my thunder time! As enjoyable as it is to have many electrical storms in this world... well I'm a busy, busy demon!>

"I have yet to mention Vortexaco."

To this, another clash of loud thunder ripped light upon the dark skies, and the demon's gaze stiffened. <The flatulent portal maker, is it?> The demon asked with a curious grin. <Is this an excuse to rid yourself of me forever? How thoughtful... but honestly, I am a demon, and I can breathe, even in the empty vacuum of space. Besides, I know my way back here. You'll only cause an inconvenience which I'm sure me and my brothers will not stand for.>

"This is serious." the draconic psychic stated in a stern tone. "I cannot risk Gretkan... or my past."

<I see... no wait, I'm just saying that to sound like I understand, which I don't.> Sparkoni laughed, a crackling spark of pinkish light escaping its mouth as it did. <I assume this which you speak of is further back than our time on your planet, and in this dimension.>

Lugia nodded. "Yes. It is important that you know what I speak to you about."

<I'm sure.> The oni nodded. <Bravado for taking the time to travel thousands of miles to see me.>

Lugia interrupted. "Jhoto is not that far away. Yes, over a thousand, but less than two thousand."

<Right. Not important to me.> The demon stated, shrugging its nonexistent shoulders. <The fact is, I don't care about justice, love, and defending the world. I am a demon of chaos.>

"How thoughtful of you..." Lugia nodded with false enthusiasm. "Perhaps if I give you permission to unleash the Viral Storm of Souls on the land, would you consider cooperation?"

The demon's eyes widened as it licked its lips. Many bolts of thunder crashed around it, at this sudden jolt of excitement. <Mmm, ah, but my brothers and I haven't been on the best of terms, especially Vacuumoni... it is with he that we create beautiful weather together... a raging super cell thunderstorm, complete with tornadoes of speeds unfathomable to this planet. A shame at that, but he needs to stop thinking of me as his lesser, since it is obviously he who is weaker than me. Poxoni and I are on better terms, but I'd certainly enjoy tearing him to shreds.> The demon's eyes shifted to a sinister smirk, <Don't worry, you are higher on my hate list.>

"Good for me!" replied Lugia with absolutely no enthusiasm whatsoever. "Regardless, I would like to think you smart enough to listen to my plea."

The electrical mask took a second to ponder, no more and no less. <Alright.> The demon complied with a sinister, toothy grin. <It will be enjoyable to hear you beg. Now, amuse me!> The mask demanded in a dark tone, as the booming sound of thunder made the moment all the more dramatic.

The legendary sea beast nodded its head. As despicable and repulsive as he Oni were, they were after all demons, and they could not help their urges for demonic rituals. Besides that, they have been doing their job as peacekeepers and guardians of Kertonmel in spite of their chagrin and lackluster. It was after all, their job as legendaries was to protect their nation, and theirs was a big and dangerous nation. "I am glad that you will listen." Lugia said with a sigh of relief. "Now, listen up. This is complicated and urgent."

 

[Dilasc]

Well, well,well. Another chapter from November's tried and true. That's me of course. Do not hesitate to reply. Please? Please?! Heh.

Dust to Deceit

Chapter 9: Clay is Thicker Than Water

Time felt slow… it was as though three eternities passed by in the blink of an eye, at least, that's how Phillip Molson felt right about now. As well, a pool of sun drenched lava would not even begin to explain the intensity of his anger and boiling blood. It was a wonder that his capillaries had yet to melt or char into blackness thicker than oil but more than twice as flammable. Rage, anger and sorrow seemed to be amongst the few emotions that would never die, they would only bottle back up inside until they were needed for their next massive detonation.

His body trembled as though there were some volatile dynamite hidden deep inside, with a fuse shorter than his little toe, and lighting it would be easier than burning down a forest, for not even a spec of heat would be needed. Phillip Molson, as stated earlier many times before was very, VERY pissed off. His shoes clomped angrily upon the floor as the room began to tremor, leaving the sound of rattling metal pots and tin silverware to shake about. Fortunately for all in fear of a crumbling building, Phillip Molson only weighed about one hundred fifty pounds. In spite of this fact, his feet slammed the smooth tiled floor below him, squishing as he stepped in sauce or pie cream, giving not even the tiniest crap that his shoes were probably best left to the dogs at this point, a tasty treat of rubber, fruit icing, and of course the oh so very delectable shoelaces, oft eaten in a style akin to that of the many stringy forms of pasta dishes.

Competency was not an issue here. The rotten psycho would be given one chance to end his own life quickly and without struggle, and then he would be destroyed slowly and painfully, and Jimmy would then laugh no more! Finally, all would be at peace… at least for half a minute. All now that lay in wait as an obstacle was a white painted door made of fresh, smoothly coated wood. "This is it, you wretched punk!" his eyes blazed hotter than the sunny side of Mercury, whilr tears threatened to roll down off his face! Yet the door knob, when he pulled with all his enraged might, would nay budge at all. The Molson boy growled as he proceeded to try again, pulling violently to make it turn.

"Whee!" it was that accursed chef whose blood was that the same as the murderer within. His eyes widened the instant he realized his fatal mistake. "Uh, wait!" he quickly yelled, as to assure Phillip he was not asking for death sentences that would be numerous and many. His quivering hand quickly went to a pocket at the side of his pants, and after but a second of the sound of jingling metals, out from his pocket was a flattened vision of faded brass. It was a key. "Allow me." he smiled as he approached the door.

Phillip Molson's eyes still raged as the ring of the accursed Jimmy family trademarks still tormented his ears and fueled his rage, but he was not stupid enough as to destroy the only source of entrance to where the murderer lay in wait.

Some logic however, did not seem to fit the bill. "If your stepbrother is in there." Gina Meshing's voice seemed to ring out as a question of great importance lingered in her mind.

"Half brother." Jimmy corrected as he turned the brass object within the shiny silver doorknob. "We are of the same mother after all." His information was with no doubt utterly useless at the current time. There were bigger things to be of concern with than family ties, yet here he was wasting precious oxygen on matters of probable debauchery that lead to such parentage issues. In he following second, a very light click could be heard.

"The point is, if the door's locked, how did your brother get in to begin with?" Gina pursued. Something here didn't seem to add up.

"Well, I'm guessing he went in over the counter." Jimmy's deductive reasoning concluded. Indeed it was a counter. One where trays for lovely meals could be brought to help oneself to the delectable meal of the day and you'd feast like a king for what feels like eternity, yet the only time to pass however is only that in which it takes to finish the last bite. It was good enough to make you… well, it was enough to obey the power of the apron, and regardless of sexual preference, you just want to 'Kiss the Cook!' "In fact, I'm sure of it." he paused, hesitating to finish opening the door.
"If you don't open in ten seconds, then I too will jump the counter!" it was Phillip, and oh boy was he pissed! All he wanted to do was complete his personal mission. The thoughts were stirring in his head now, and like before they were a vision of bloody death and fulfilled vengeance. The scene was nothing but blank whiteness, yet there was plentiful ground to walk upon, though you'd never know where the separation between ground and air began. Yet, there was Jimmy, dying in a stained mess of blood, red flowing down to the white of nothingness that was the floor. In spite of extreme blood loss, multiple bodily impalements and other fatal wounds, there he was laughing without a sane care in the world, fueling and egging Phillip's anger onward. In a manner only accomplishable in dreams, Phillip Molson, in all of his fury, chopped the man's head clear off its home upon his shoulders. In spite of the separation from voice box, the ****ed killer was still laughing his head off, more literally. Oh how Phillip wanted to scream in tormented rage. It was to no avail however, for when he tried to scream, his body shock

"Phillip!" it was the chef. In his accursed Jimmy voice, he had woken him up from a nearly fulfilled fantasy. He knew that voice all too well. It was the chef. The chef whose blood, voice and name were beyond kindred, they were practically the same, as the cruel murderer within the kitchen of fate! "How… how do you feel about my brother?" his words were hesitant, yet he perhaps already knew the answer well.

Phil's mind never even needed to focus, for his answer, though worded slowly, was known since the moment he met the man who truly devastated his life. "I hate him!" his voice sounded cold and empty of any emotion but rage. "Sorry." his eyes went downcast. Had he realized at long last that this man beside him also was concerned with family, after all, little else can be ever quite as important. "I LOATHE him!" the volume exploded on the word of extreme detesting, sending a slight shiver up Gina's spine as she heard it. Apparently, he had no care at all for the fate of brotherly love, all he wanted was to get revenge… even if he had to die while trying.

"Phillip…" it was Gina, "How could you?" but her words were not heard. 'Not like he'd listen to a weakling like me.' she sighed as her mind poisoned itself with discontent and despair. Gina Meshing may only live because the boy enraged and standing there now was there to rescue her, but two wrongs… well, it's certain even closet dwelling introverts know the saying.

In another click, the door to the kitchen of final fate had opened at long last! Revenge and victory were sweet and dark, just like hot fudged chocolate sauce, oh so tempting, but oh so dark, that light itself escapes only because it's the fastest thing in the known universe, but rest assured, that ray of light never returns there again, it only looks like its still there, but truth be known, its just another ray in the continual, endless stream of sunray.

"Move!" his voice demanded as the loud click sounded. In a swift motion, he had stomped through the door, where a culinary arena surely awaited, though as he burst through, the hopes of enough space to spill blood cleanly were dashed. It was a forest of utensils and silverware to say the least, with silvery colored carts used to hold those fancy lids of food as it was carted to its most fortunate partaker of its yummy goodness. Forks, spoons, pots, and pans littered walls, shelves, while some hung from racks colored in silvery tints as well. The forks, well, some of them would work nicely with their sharp prongs, perfect for destroying Jimmy's unholy eye holes, a gateway to the soul of a true demon!

Still, it was no compare to the many knives as well. From most pitiful butters to the all mighty butchers, there'd be plenty of spots to stab the bastard to a gruesome, fulfilling death. Stoves, and boilers were present too, a perfect weapon for most diabolic warfare straight from the burning depths of the hells! Into the fray it was then.

There was no turning back, and there couldn't have been a worse way to start revenge, than getting mowed down by a wheeled cart made of strong sheet metal, followed up by a loud "WHEE!" and an obnoxious laugh.

Of course, the other Jimmy saw it all. "Can he handle himself if it comes down to a battle with Pokemon involvement?" his words were directed towards Gina.

"I…" she didn't quite know how to say it. How could you not scare or embarrass anyone by blurting out quite factually the words 'he hasn't even the slightest clue!' Yet, by blunder and carelessness, mouth and mind spoke both at the same time, and the expression on the chef's face reflected this.

To say chef Jimmy was irked, or fearful was anything but the truth. If it were, then his control over emotions was simply an amazing work of acting. "I see." his tone was as neutral as a psychoanalyst and one could almost expect him to have a pen and notepad on hand as he would jot down notes and come to conclusions. "My brother has quite a talent for training." he spoke calmly. "He may seem to be at a lack for sanity, but I assure you that he knows a thing or two about Pokemon." he sighed. After all, even a crazy person could be a cunning genius if he wants.

A sigh escaped from the girl's mouth. "Well, I doubt Phillip's got much of a want to bother with it." she sighed, eyeing the Spinarak as it began to chew away mercilessly at the edible messiness of tossed food. Indeed, Phillip was in two simple words, royally screwed, spell it out if need be! "Listen!" her eyes quickly darted back to the man of apron and large white hat as she snapped out that simple exclamation, "We need to stop your brother at all costs." her mind raced about like a rocket ship at a track meet. All in all, she could only come up with one idea. "Do you have any frying pans?"

"Yes, of course. Bacon is magnificent my way! WHEE…" Jimmy halted, eyes wide in fear as he glanced about. "Oh, right, he's not here." to which he unleashed an exasperated sigh of overly good relief.

"Pardon." Gina's voice traveled across towards the lazy, hungry spider. "Go into the kitchen to help him." she commanded lightly. Her voice was soft-spoken and calm, but regardless of the deceiving tone, the green haired girl was indeed giving the little spider an order. An order to which the spider unleashed a fearful cry of pure, unbridled horror as it shook its head while its multiple spider eyes widened even more than they already could possibly be. Now that the terrifying, abusive human was away, there was no need to hide the trembling in six legs that were constantly threatened to be torn asunder.

"I can't say I don't blame the little fella. I'd be scared too if I were at the mercy of a nutcase twelve times my size." Jimmy commented with a slight shake of his head, quirky thing though was how his enunciation of fellow was that akin to a mid western cowboy.

With a sigh, Gina approached the small spider calmly. "I know you don't think that he cares. Maybe Phillip really does hate you." to which the little arachnid nodded its head up and down rapidly. Gina's face contorted into a look of worry. So much for playing the role of lady negotiator. "The point is, he needs you!" she practically shouted it. "It is certain that he needs you!" she almost consumed herself in this belief she was so convincing. "Although he may not seem to care, Phi…" it was at this she paused as a tap hit her shoulder, snapping her back into reality and focus. It was the food maker Jimmy. "What?"

He merely pointed behind him. "Look! You seemed to spark some hope! WHEE!" his smile seemed to show as fact that reunion of a bug and his boy seemed to be off to a good start, for scuttling along as fast as six short legs can carry, the little Spinarak scuttled right through the open door and straight into the kitchen. "It warms my heart…" the sane Jimmy grinned as he unleashed a laughter unbefitting to the fact that dishes were broken, families were breaking, and angry teens were getting trampled by hunks of wheeled metal. Not even Gina could not help but cringe at it. "So why did you send it in there anyway?" the Chef wondered. "It's obviously not something liked by its trainer, and will probably be clobbered and ripped a new rear end by my brother."

Gina smiled, almost grinning, nearly sending the man who laughed in the face of death into a few shivers of discomfort. "I have a plan, I think." she smiled. Giggles would have followed had it not been for the situation, but he green haired girl loved it when she had a well thought plan come to her, suffice to say, it was a rarity. "Well first, we need to find some frying pans…"

As calm folk planned, rage continued as white tile wall nearly met Phillip Molson backside first, as he halted the food cart as best he could. It was a relief that no food was onboard, or there'd have been much too much edibility bound havoc to deal with, and food for thought today was vengeance with a tall, cold, and corny glass of extreme pain. "I have nothing more to say to you," Phillips voice was still cold, yet creepily soft-spoken for the rage boiling unhealthily in his veins. "other than that you die now." again, his voice was calm, though his teeth were gnashed. He could hold back the fury of the voice box no longer "I'm giving you no last requests either!" he raged, blindly charging as though he could easily stand well against a man of greater age and no doubt more cunning.

Jimmy the psycho of course, did not flinch a muscle. Instead, his permanent grin remained still forever plastered upon his ring pierced face. Though his right arm seemed to rise from his sides and was indeed in a ball shape form, it was not clenched shut. "Battle me!" his girly voice rang out, followed by the Jimmy trademark laugh. It was clear, in his hand was none other than a poke ball. The red and white sectored sphere of metal technology was firmly grasped in the vile fingers of the murderer.

'Battle?' Phillip's mind reeled at the thought. Of course! It was only rule number one of the purpose of training Pokemon after all. Still, the endeavor seemed quite risky to undertake at this current time. Then again "Fine, whatever!" in spite of the lack of know-how, Phillip was in no mood to even consider reasonable thinking. Funny thing was however, the madman seemed to have some conniving plan up his tattered, and still stained sleeve… maybe.

"Oh goodie!" he cheered as though he were a five year old that thinks the world's size was smaller than a hotdog. As always, the nerve wracking returned to Phillip in 'double-whammy' as the man of no fear unleashed his trademark line. "WHEE!" and the laugh indeed did follow. "Ehehehe!" he finished with giddy vigor, "Time to rumble, fight thingy!" his jumbled words made less sense than his demeanor.

All this time, Phil's body shook, a tremulous volcano minutes from eruption. It was in his best interest though not to spew lava to cake the world in an inferno. "Just… be… QUIET!" his speech was slow, and low, until the boom at the end. Indefinitely, the word quiet was spoken quite loudly.

"Ooh!" the psycho's voice was full of faux awe, though the true harshness within his sarcasm was lost to an empty void of raging thoughts. An explosion with nobody to hear it is by far not making itself well known at all. "We fight now!" he cheered as the poke ball in his hand was now slammed against the floor with a mighty force.

Phil's eyes widened in horror as the ball gave way to the laws of physics. Truly, even this metal sphere would break under such mighty pressure. Yet, instead of breaking, the reinforced metal sphere touched down lighter than a pin drop. "How the…" he never got to finish his question at all.

From the now exposed insides of the unscratched sphere, the usual rays of red energy began to take shape. An odd clump of odd dull grey formed stood firmly on the kitchen floor. Its shape was that of a stone built humanoid, standing a foot and a half tall at most, and its muscles seemingly were well shaped. It was almost as though this creature was built of clay, for the odd globs of hands seemed to mold at their own accord to form whatever hand signals were needed. One thing about this odd beast though didn't seem to be of its regular structure, and that was the long, thin rod of deep brown seemingly 'sticking' to it rounded backside. It too appeared to be of a clay structure, thinned out at one edge. Even the creature's eyes seemed to be made of clay, but they were most definitely white colored eyeballs. "Claymore!" shouted the J man murderer, absolutely still in the ecstasy of blissful existence.

Phillip's eyes narrowed as though he were trying to seem an intimidating threat but he was truly just deep in his mind, darting about for a plan that would never exist. 'I have… no choice, or hope.' he sighed. With demure sense of failing hope, Phil took from his pocket the only poke ball that was brimming with life and weight. "Well…" he sighed. "Seems I've gotten myself into a big time mess." Oh what he wouldn't do to be turning back time and stopping everything.

With those words, the blue crocodile of ill fated beginnings sprouted from a burst of pokeball technological energy. With a single syllable spewed forth from its raspy toned voice, it landed upon the red tiled kitchen floor gracefully, glancing about in cautious curiosity. A few quick observation on the part of the small reptile seemed to make the message quite clear: The call to battle had come! The gator was not but a manipulated soldier, and he was at the every word and whim of his commander, the human with a rage deep and unsurpassable. It was time to get down and dirty. "Kill it!" the gator's human commanded with great disgust. All it got from the crocodile was a nod and an increased heart beat, racing the blood through its body with fear.

"Whee!" went Jimmy as he eyed the beast of clay. "We gonna have a good, mon!" he rambled with a surprisingly well imitated Jamaican accent. The warrior of clay nodded its sculpted head and spoke its name again, its tone was calm, and its voice was accented with a pinch of Scottish. "We be starting!" Jimmy's Jamaican weirdness died down after those words left his lips as his never ending smirk seemed to become scarier than ever. "Slash it!" the crazy man had said, receiving no hesitation from the beast of clay earthliness.

The beast wasn't exactly a fast creature with legs that seemed to hesitate leaving the floor due to the sticky clay, but Phillip was practically ready to hate the gator once more. "Do something!" he commanded with rage, but all it did was get the blue creature to eye him, and hold up its arms in a shrug of confusion. Phillip still wasn't understanding. "Use your claws or teeth!" he was practically as ready to kill the gator as he had been a day ago. "AHH!" he bellowed in rage, as the gator still didn't do anything. "Are you too stupid to pierce with your claws or bite it with your teeth?" his words were harsh and cold, but one of the words clicked in the gator's mind, as it barred its teeth as water dripped down the from the longest fangs! It was ready to strike the unruly earthen warrior.

In spite of its lumbering, the beast of clay had not dawdled as it grasped the stick of brown clay attached to its back, causing the soft, squishy object to take shape as a sharp looking blade with a heavy size, large hilt, and a mighty blade. Truly, this mighty great sword was beyond the grasping capabilities of such a small warrior. Yet, hands too morphed swiftly, becoming just a bit larger. Forget the sword in its hand, those arms could smack down quite nicely on their own, though the arms seemed to thin out. No doubt compensation for the relocation of the clay. Yet, it held this mighty sword in just one hand. There was no struggle either as it lifted the blade to swipe at the gator, but the watery reptile had other plans as teeth sunk into a clay forehead, drawing no blood, and molding the clay. The warrior seemed hardly phased as it rolled its eyes, laughed heartily its name using its accent, and flung the gator off its head with a finger sling as though it were a mere spherical spec or particle. The creature's skin still had the mark of toothy fangs clearly visible.

As Jimmy clapped and unleashed his accursed laughter, the Molson was further enraged. There was his Totodile, tossed about like a rag doll and flung to the ground. There was nothing but pain and aching in its entire body, but it was not ready to yield yet.
As Phillip was fighting, our devious planners were busy sneaking about. "Are you sure this will work? I hear the kid and he sounds really furious."

"I'm not sure if this will work." she spoke, peering the corner to see Phillip engaged in what, horrifically enough was a pokemon battle. "Oh no. He IS battling!" she was struck with horror. Phillip was for certain a dead one now. "Jimmy…" she turned around, but the chef was not there.

Instead, he had gone to the field to help the disadvantaged boy. "Phillip." he spoke, coming to reveal himself from around the bend in the wall, "You cant expect to win by leaving a pokemon to its own devices. Try telling it what to do!" he urged.

Phillip's mind was blank in shock. There he saw it. Two Jimmies, both so different yet exactly the same. All of this was practically an overflow in his mind. Two guys who could say 'WHEE!' Two guys with the insidious laugh of torment! Two guys who looked like the lowest of scum!

The chef sighed "Tell your Totodile to use something called water gun!" his eyes turned towards his brother. How odd it was to call a person such as him 'brother'. It gave an oddly uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

Likewise, the nutcase eyed the chef as well. Ah, well, his mind was empty as you know. "Brother!" he smiled as he locked his brother in a most grizzly of bear hugs. "WAZZUP!" The psycho then shouted. Oh, of all the inane lines, this one was by far most clich? to ever spew from the vocals of the man with the heavily ring pierced face!

With a wince to his brother's tight grip, millions of thoughts flooded his mind. Ideals were questioned, loyalties were debated, and after four seconds of brotherly squeeze, the sane Jimmy frowned to his younger brother. "I'm sorry…" he trailed, his left hand clenched in a fist so tight that it trembled, struggling to tighten beyond the limitations of the physical world, and all the anger had simply rushed right to the tips of his fingernails. "I think I'm going to have to not call you 'brother' any longer." his eyes weighted down with the steel weights of guilt and sorrow. "I hear you did some horrible crimes, and took a person's life…" another pause ensued as all living beings set their eyes upon the elder Jimmy as he continued his dramatic monolog. "You also tried to do it again, or so I'm told." another pause, as the hint of tears reflected off of the bright lights of the kitchen. "I know you've had it rough, but I'm afraid I'm just going to have to call you a shame to our name."

It almost seemed as though the little nut job had finally shown some form of emotion other than insanity, for his eyes seemed to water with tears. A shell of hidden, bottled up emotions finally broke as the shards of broken glass pierced the soul with a hundred pangs of sorrow. "I understand…" his voice was calm and low key, never a soul could expect this. "You want to battle me too! WHEE!" Then again, once in a blue moon when pigs fly, the wheels of fate have worked their cruel magic yet again!

From shuttered to wide, the older brother was greatly in shock. "I don't believe it!" Fists trembled even more noticeably with rage as he spoke. "You mindless jerk!" his eyes redder than blood, and words thicker than it too, yet in spite of his renounced consideration of family, the fact remained, they were of the same blood, and he would dare not shed that blood, even in spite of his cruelty. "If battle you seek, then fine!" from the pocket by his side, out came something spherical. "It seems you really HAVE lost your mind." The elder Jimmy sighed. 'I wish I could bring him back...'

"Cookie Dough!" shouted the idiot Jimmy. He was indeed correct, for as disgusting as it was, the cook had pulled out a rolled up ball of white, floury dough.

"Ah, no wonder I couldn't finish that cake." the chef shrugged as he tossed it backwards. Concern towards the cleanliness of his kitchen was not present at the time. 'I'll clean that up later.' went his mind as he stared down his 'brother'.

Phillip however, could stand no more delay. Loudly, he cleared his throat as though mucus the size and sliminess of a gigantic slug was lodged in his throat. "Hey there!" his voice was loaded with faux calmness, and shifted all so suddenly. "I was fighting first! Back off!" Now he was angry. "This is MY revenge!" he yelled. Odd how one could be so possessive over the fate of a person they hate so much. "You can have what's left when I'm done, if anything's left, that is!"

"Eh?" went the insane ring faced freak as he eyed the creatures standing there. "Whee! Take Down!" his emphasis was still as carefree as ever. It could be the end of the universe and still, there would be no fear on his face or in his mind. Then again, the freak had faced death head on, not even flinched in spite of bleeding and defenselessness, and quite frankly, as far as Phil was concerned, the man had no mind. He didn't even shed a tear to cry.

The Molson boy was worried. It had been so sudden. 'I should have expected something so vile from that sick freak!' His eyes at long last returned to the beasts of servitude. It was odd that they did not fight on their own accord. Wasn't that what they existed to do in a world dominated by humanity? Was not fighting their only reason to live? While humans lived their lives for what humanity was meant to be lived for, these… creatures, they did not make use of their time it seemed, and did not fulfill their purpose. That is of course, until the Jimmy had spoken to his creature of clay. That must have been it then! Phillip Molson had come to a conclusion, as odd as it may have been! Pokemon were like robots, needing to be controlled or else humanity would rot like the empty corpses they'd become without their easily controlled slave labor. That simply HAD to be the only way he could describe it. The thing is, he didn't know how to give these orders.

As they say, he who hesitates has lost his chance. As much as it wanted to just get out of the way, blue gators would not dare betray their vengeful masters, lest they be back at day one, which ironically was that very day. There was no escaping now, as the mighty bulk of clay was practically upon it, though it was by far not fatal. It seemed like all would be lost in this dark kitchen bound hour, even as single string of thin, silky white took shape upon the clay beast's backside.