I Bleed Black (Tentative Title)

[kidstaple]

Hey everyone! It's been a while since I've been on or posted. I'm severely out of the loop and not afraid to say it. So, I thought I would tinker with this story idea that's been wasting away in my mind for the last year or so. I hope to continue to write it, but with my Muse, its hard to tell. Feedback would be appreciated!

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Prologue:

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On the Wings of Death

… It wasn't supposed to happen like that.

Nobody; neither Pokémon nor human were supposed to have gotten hurt, let alone killed.

Noah forced the bile rising in his throat back down, and grimaced.

If I'm gunna throw up, at least let it not be in front of all these spectators and trainers. That's the last thing I need on my conscience… not only am I going to be thrown in jail for his death, but I'm gunna make a fool out of myself, more so than before. Noah thought to himself, eyeing the thousands of men, women and children that lined the seats of the bleachers, waiting to see what was to happen next.

He quickly recalled Honchkrow and shrunk further away from the field; out of his white lined box and into the hallway underneath the bleachers behind him. Fear and grief welled up inside of his frail, gaunt and hollowed body. Wishing; asking to be let free, but he kept them locked inside, forced them down like the bile that had risen in his throat and pushed it out of his mind.

He wiped the tears from his face, fell to the dirt packed arena floor and curled into a defensive ball, weeping silently and only to himself. He occasionally opened his eyes long enough to see what was happening on the field, but kept his eyes closed the majority of the time, afraid of what he might find.

Medics rushed onto the field as well as Nurse Joy, strapping the trainer onto a stretcher and carrying him through the opposite hallway under the bleachers and into what Noah could only hope was safety and a clean sheeted hospital bed.

A few moments passed without change; the crowd still in shock was quiet for the most part. Some lips moved; the occasional murmur of horror and disbelief at what had happened. It was a freak accident, something that shouldn't have happened. It was too late for that however, and nothing could be done about it, except for the occasional prayer for the boy in hopes of a speedy recovery and for minimal disfigurement of the face.

Finally, after what had seemed hours; days even, to Noah, the referee and judges ran across the field and into the shadowed hallway. One nudged him on the shoulder, trying to get his attention. He could feel the soft poke of the older gentleman, but paid it no attention. He knew what was going to happen to him, and he wasn't ready.

Then, a quiet voice spoke to him, at first and then to the other figures that cast their malicious shadows across the dirt packed arena floor and onto the small ball of human flesh known as Noah.

"Son, are you alright? We know that what happened here tonight was a freak accident. Believe me, it's not the first and it won't be the last," the man's soft voice stated.

"Tandrick, send for a stretcher, or something that we can put the boy on. We need to take him back to my office. Get him something to drink and maybe something to eat; I think that will calm his nerves," The man replied, turning to speak to his lackey, "and Ryan, go see how the Orize boy is doing. See if he's going to be able to make it through the night."

"Very well." Ryan muttered before disappearing further into the shadowed hallway.

Noah noticed that a shadow had disappeared causing the bright fluorescent lights from the arena to wash over his face. He tried to shut his eyes tight, but there was no chance of keeping the light from piercing his eyelids.

The man's callused hands reached under his armpits and carefully tried to pull him to his feet. He complied; not wanting to put up a fight for what could only be the owner of the arena. As long as I comply with him, my sentence can't be as bad. He thought to himself, grasping the man's arm for balance. His legs shacked like mad, but there was nothing he could do for his nerves except maybe get something to eat.

A tall, bombshell of a blonde, whom Noah recognized to be one of the numerous judges, nudged his arm softly. He opened his eyes to see an open palm with a small chunk of chocolate. "Take it, it will help your nerves," the women replied, smiling and revealing perfectly straight, white teeth.

Noah smiled, took the offered chocolate and began to nibble on it as he stood and waited for his legs to solidify. The old man and his lackeys waited patiently by him, until finally Noah took a step. Granted, it was a baby step, but it was all he needed to keep going.

The old man and the bombshell both helped him, as they began to walk through the center of the domed building. One of the men who had been dispatched earlier by the old man finally arrived and they gently laid Noah out on the stretcher. He closed his eyes and tried not to think anymore on what had just happened; tried to force the nasty thoughts out of his head and into nothingness.

They took him into a rather large office, with a few leather chairs and a large leather couch. Noah rolled himself onto the couch instead of getting up. Once comfortable, the owner pulled a leather chair up close to the couch and looked down upon Noah.

He sat there for a few moments, staring down at the boy in contemplation. A hard scornful expression was fixed upon his face like a mask of porcelain. The man named Tandrick, who had disappeared to find out more about Noah's opponents condition, ran into the room and whispered into the old man's ear. He shook his head, grunted, then dismissed the man.

"It seems that Geoffrey won't make it son. I was just told that they're getting ready to take him into surgery, but there is too much swelling of the brain. The doctor's are saying that it will take a miracle for the boy to make it through the night," the old man informed Noah.

He leaned forward and put a reassuring hand on Noah's shoulder. "Now son, like I said before, accidents happen. It's not the first time that something like this has happened under my roof and it probably won't be the last. I just want you to know that you aren't going to be sent to jail for this, or have to pay for the damages. That's why we made you sign that brick of a document before you could enter this tournament," The old man explained, smiling as Noah looked up at him.

He was finally able to get a good look at the owner of the dome and host of the tournament. The older gentleman was probably around sixty or so, if not older, had short cropped hair, almost like a buzz cut and a goat- tee that he wore long and braided. His hair was pure snow white.

"Sorry son, I never caught your name… I'm Baxter, which you probably knew, but in any case, do you have a name?" Baxter asked, scratching his beard.

Noah nodded, then realised that it would be best if he were to speak. "Noah. Noah Johnson, sir," he chocked on the words, but if Baxter noticed, he didn't say anything.

Baxter smiled, which was starting to annoy Noah. How could a person smile so much, when some young kid just got killed on his field? Either Baxter was a sick old man, or he knew something that Noah didn't. Or both. "Do you think that you'll be able to finish up the tourney, or are you finished?" Baxter asked, still smiling.

Noah shook his head as he started crying again. "I'm done…" He whispered at first, "I'm done with all of it."

Baxter let the boy laid there for a few minutes as he got up poured himself a cup of coffee and sat back down. He took a few sips, scrounged his face in disgust and got back up to pour some creamer into it. He sat back down and waited for Noah to stop crying, then he spoke.

"Noah, I'm sure you don't mean that. Are you sure you're really done, because, between me and you, you could still win this thing." Baxter said, winking at the boy.

"No, I really do mean it. I'm done." Noah replied. "I don't think I could continue, with something so monumental on my conscience, even if it was an accident. I don't think I could live with myself if I were to jump back into the game. If that boy I faced can't continue to participate in the tourney, then I might as well not, either."

"I understand then," Baxter began, "but, if you change your mind, you know were to find me. I'll be in my office for the next day or so, while the tourney is put on hold. If you change your mind, then don't hesitate to find me and put your name back on the roster."

Noah sighed and then nodded in understanding.

"You can rest here for now. In the morning, I'll have Victoria and James take you back to your hotel. I'll make sure you get security while you stay here. I don't want any mad, obsessive fan to come about and try to hurt you while you recoup your strength." Baxter then stood and departed through the doors.

James and Victoria silently slid through the doors behind Baxter, leaving Noah to a restless and haunting sleep.

 

[kidstaple]

Chapter I:

In the Shadows of the Sun

Traffic gathered in Goldenrod City, congesting the main arteries that flowed through out the city and deep into the heart of it. Small clusters of humans as well as Pokémon made their way to the closest television screen, broadcasting the live event that was taking place almost a thousand miles away in a hidden location.

The event, most commonly known as the Tournament of the Lost Isles, was held annually at a hidden location: a small chain of islands that sat off of the coast of Sinnoh to the far north.

There were only nineteen tickets sent out to the greatest and strongest trainers that speckled the four major continents. It was an honor to receive a hand delivered invitation, something that had only happened once to Ryan Otej. It was something that he was proud of and something that he wouldn't soon forget.

He had seen many things in his life that were ugly and gruesome; things that most people could never fathom happening while participating in a tournament. But, truth be told, he had experienced a large majority of them while at the Tournament of Lost Isles.

It wasn't that everything always went wrong at the Tournament, or that the participants were forced to fight until first blood, or until death. The simple truth was that most of the participants were hardened veterans of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of Pokémon battles, and they knew their Pokémon partners like the back of their hand, or the feel of their mouth. When things went wrong it was usually because the participants pushed their Pokémon and even the battle into something that wasn't recognizable as a normal one, but rather a clash of titans; an apocalyptical event of gargantuan proportions.

Things happened at the Tournament that most people never saw in their life time and this was one of them.

Ryan had seen a trainer killed before. Not by the hands, or the attacks of his Pokémon, but while watching the battle from the stands. In the heat of the moment, the trainer had decided that he would make a spectacle of his win, and by doing so, he had accidently caused the death of his opponent; the trainer was struck dead the instant that the blow had been dealt.

So, as he stared upon the massive screen in Goldenrod City, watching as the young boy named Noah Johnson gave the final attack to his Honchkrow, he knew what was going to happen.

Geoffrey Orize never stood a chance.

Thousands of people sat glued to their television sets, or watched from their cars while stuck in traffic at the massive screens, as Noah's Honchkrow swooped down and upon the false image of Geoffrey's Scizor.

Scizor, who had strategically placed multiple copies of itself upon the field to confuse Honchkrow from attacking, placed one of them in front of Geoffrey, who stood unaware that Scizor was on the other side of the tournament field. Which meant, that the image, would not stand a blow from Szicor's opponent. Honchkrow tried to pull up at the last second, after realizing that the copy was a fake, but barely missed clearing Geoffrey's head. Blood sprayed on impact, drenching the underbelly of Honchkrow's white breast, and gushing onto the dirt floor of the arena.

A unison of a thousand gasps and hundreds more of mouths ajar, stared upon the screen of their televisions, watching at the horror that had unfolded right before their very eyes.

Geoffrey crumbled under the head on collision from Honchkrow, falling to the dirt floor as blood flowed freely from the gash and gathered to make a larger puddle of blood only a few inches from his head.

Medics rushed onto the field, checking the boy to make sure that he was alright, while others brought a large stretcher onto the field. The camera panned over to Noah, showing the boy as he returned Honchkrow to its Pokéball and slowly disappeared into the shadows of the entranceway behind him.

He curled up into a ball and closed his eyes, crying as he waited. The camera then returned to Geoffrey and the medics. They had finally gotten the boy bandaged up with as many tourniquets as they could fit on his head, and placed him gently upon the massive stretcher. The crowd cheered for the trainer, even though he was unconscious and watched as they took him away.

Ryan watched on, as the screen began to flash rapidly back and forth between orange and red. Then, a telecaster appeared and began to talk about the breaking news of what had just happened. They replayed the video clip over, again and again, and began to cover the scene with exceptional detail. Ryan sighed, thanked God that he hadn't been invited to this years Tournament and shrugged off, through the crowd of trainers and others who still stood in awe and shock at what had just happened.

He double checked his watch, then moved across town, taking his time as he went. Every other street, he passed people still stood in front of displays of stores, watching as they replayed the accident again and again.

He kept walking, moving closer and closer to the heart of town, until he finally made his way to Standard Enterprises. He stepped inside the massive building as he found a seat on one of the long couches that seemed to litter the room. This one just happened to wrap around a large display of flowers that was speckled with a few plant type Pokémon who were either sleeping or busy playing with one another. He spotted a Bellsprout, chasing a Sunflora, and smiled to himself.

He watched the pair as they played, what seemed to be tag, until he was abruptly interrupted.

"I see you kept your appointment, as per usual," a tall brunette woman said, smiling as Ryan stared up at her.

"Of course I did. I wouldn't miss our meeting for the world," he stated, smiling as he stood. He extended his arm to her, which she took with a smile, then quickly gave him a hug before leading him out of the lobby and into her office.

The room was warm and cozy.

It reminded him of his father's office, which he had been a regular visitor to for the most of his young life. The carpet was a deep red, almost a burgundy. The walls were covered in a elegant striped wallpaper of gold and a burgundy, which offset the carpet just a little, but just enough to notice. The women sat behind her massive, stained mahogany desk and smiled as he took in the scent of the air.

Fresh laundry and lilac. Just the way he remembered it.

"What is it that brings you here this time? I do believe you said something about another job over the phone? Is that right?" The brunette asked, pulling Ryan out of his day-dream like state.

Ryan nodded, focusing on the upper half of her luscious body as he talked. "Yes, but this one's not for me. It's for the boss."

"Ahh… yes. How is he by the way? I haven't heard from him in forever. I think the last time we had talked, Mr. Williams was just putting the final touches together for a team. Has he been successful?"

"Very." Ryan replied bluntly, as if it were common knowledge.

"I hope so. The Black Crusade needs to be stopped before they become a force to be reckoned with. Which, I'm afraid, isn't too far off," the women replied.

Ryan reached forward, took her hand in his, kissed it softly then replied, "There's no reason to worry Rachel. They don't know what they've got coming to them."

"I hope so," Rachel blushed, pulling her hand away. She tried to focus on the paperwork on her table, but was finding it rather hard. She was nearly ten years older than Ryan, but yet she found that she was more attracted to him than any other man her age that she had dated within the last year. And that was quite a few.

"What would Mr. Williams like then, this time?" Rachel asked looking up from her paperwork after she felt composed enough to continue.

"You seen the recent reports about the new ball that they're making?" Ryan asked.

Rachel shook her head, "No I haven't." Ryan leaned forward enough to reach into his back pocket. He pulled out a folded folder that he had hid under his shirt. He opened it, pulled out a handful of photos laying them on Rachel's desk one at a time.

He cleared his throat, then began pointing at each individual photo as he explained in detail. Rachel followed along, nodding and replying where they were needed. Half an hour passed and then, finally, Ryan stopped. He stole a quick glance at her face, all scrunched up and in deep thought.

"So, how do you suggest we go about getting a hold of a few of these suckers?" She asked, still studying the photos.

"I don't know… just walk in? It's your job to come up with a way in Rachel, I'm just the messenger. All the details that I was given are those photos sitting in front of you." Ryan stated, a note of anger creeping into his stern voice.

"Alright, I'll see what we can't do," she picked each photo up and dropped them back into the envelope, slipping it into a drawer in her desk. "When did you say you wanted your shipment to be ready by?"

"I didn't." Ryan stated, "Surprise me."

Rachel stood, walked to the door and opened it with a big smile. She extended her hand, which Ryan took and the two briefly shook hands before she walked him out the door and into the lobby.

"Pleasure doing business with you again. Tell Mr. Williams that we appreciate his business and that we will have his order in in a few weeks." Rachel replied, watching as Ryan disappeared through the doors.

Dusk was settling down upon Goldenrod, issuing in the end of another profitable day. Ryan whistled a soft tune to himself as he walked the streets of the city, watching as people passed him by. He enjoyed people watching, but rarely had the chance to do so. He found it fascinating how people could go about their normal lives, not knowing what went on in the shadows of their city and under the shadows of the sun.

 

[Elite-Four-Mark]

It starts out kind of disturbing, but it's good. Keep it up, I want to see how it ends.