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While my understanding of Italian is still pretty rudimentary, lemme do my best to offer a heads up. (If I murder the language myself, I apologize to the Italian viewers out there.)
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However, "dadi" actually refers to game dice. Technically, the verb you're looking for (another form of "to cut") is "tagliare a dadini." Obviously, because you're right in thinking "tagliare" means "to cut" (i.e., don't change it), you probably don't want a sentence that begins "tagli e tagli a dadini." Unless you really wanted to be interesting. (Note: If you wanted this to sound more like a recipe, you'd actually use the plural form of these verbs. Yes, that sounds weird, but all Italian recipes use plural verbs. It makes sense, though, if you think about it. When writing a recipe, you're addressing a general audience, not just one person.) Furthermore, "e" means "and." "A" means "at/on/to." It's a bit weird, but hey. Spanish uses y, so why not? Finally for this one, you'll actually want to drop the preposition (read: a) anyway. Tagliare is one of those verbs that actually don't need a preposition between it and its object, so you can pretty much get away with just saying, "Tagli il fungo." But for fun, most articles (il, le, la, et cetera) are typically combined with prepositions that come before them. There's exceptions, but for the sake of simplicity, I'll talk about them if they come up later. I will say, though, that if you did want to say "a il," it'd actually have to be "al." It's just easier to say, basically. Quote:
Technically speaking, there's no real way to say "let's" by itself; rather, Italians just give the first person plural command. For example, instead of saying "let's go" and having those be two separate words, you'd say, "Andiamo!" That means "let's go" in its entirety. In the same way, with this phrase, you'd just start it off by saying "congeliamo." Beyond that, you've actually switched "mushroom" to "mushrooms." Notice how you went from "il" to "i" and "fungo" to "funghi"? That's how Italians pluralize some of their nouns. So, to say "mushroom" in the singular, it'd just be "il fungo." So far, we've got "Congeliamo il fungo questa volta." Part of me wants to say you want to finish that up by saying "il mio amico" (i.e., "my friend"), but if you just want to say "friend," you can just leave it as "amico." Now, the second part. Eseguire works as "to perform (a task)," but you'll need to conjugate it. Remember what I said about how to create a command to someone you think of as a friend? Same deal here. Take the last syllable, drop it, and replace it with i. What you should have left is "esegui." From there, you'll want to know that every Pokémon attack actually has an Italian name. Bulbapedia's a good place to look for them, but if you want to refer to the attacks, you'll want to switch to using them instead of just trying to translate them. That way, you'll be able to capture what the connotation that the translators were aiming for. In this case, you were actually close. The term for Icy Wind (the attack) in Italian is "Ventogelato," so as a whole, the command would be, "Esegui un Ventogelato." If you just wanted to say a icy wind (as in, not the attack), what you have right now would be correct, however. Quote:
For the second, it might be stronger if you used "non vali niente," which literally means "you're not worth anything." "Inutile" is just an adjective (meaning it really shouldn't be on its own anyway) that means something more along the lines of "useless" or "pointless." And that was a lesson in why Google Translate sucks. b)'')b But seriously, that's the hard part about having a character who's multilingual. You'll really want to do a lot of research into the language to avoid coming up with something that actually doesn't make sense. There's actually a lot of good resources out there in Googleland. Dictionaries you can use, for example (like this one), along with forums where language students can answer questions. Then, once you think you've found what you want to have your characters say, try running it through a language version of Google (Google.it in this case) to make sure it's something people who actually speak that language really say. You don't really have to be fluent in a language to depict a character speaking it accurately, but you'll still want to do some research instead of relying on translation sites. As you can see, doing the latter can end with something rather silly. Now, on to the review proper! Similar review style as last time. Numbered notes for whatever I happen to think of while I'm reading, namely. 1. I have to admit, I lol'd at Chris's thoughts about Joey's mom. It's like a terrible your mom joke. Or this. 2. And the conversation Chris's mom had with Bosca was just too adorable. Once again, you've done well with creating characters. Right away, I can tell that Elizabeth is an excitable woman, the kind who's probably also fond of baby talk. It was also highly amusing to see that she was completely oblivious to Bosca's growing irritation until Chris finally said something. Of course, she seems like a sweet mother in general. Just the image of her pressing her fingers against the screen shows me that she cares deeply about Chris – maybe that she still thinks of him as her baby as well. 3. And then, of course, the reaction. I don't know if it's just because I've been reading a lot of rushed fic lately, but I'm glad that there's a reasonable response to something so heavy. It's an earth-shaking blow to have a character – an important one to multiple characters, in fact – die, and you're not afraid to show us Elm with his pale face and Chris struggling to find any words to say at all. It makes the characters seem a little more real and likable. They have personalities, and things can affect them pretty harshly. 4. Nitpick: When you're describing the feeling of a man's shoe in Chris's thigh, switch the pronoun to "his." After all, it's not our bare thigh. It's Chris's. 5. Also, describing the R as inexperienced sounds a little awkward to me because it's not so much the R that's lacking here as it is the sewing job. I would suggest dropping "inexperienced" altogether and just inserting "like it was" in its place. (Not going to go into comma-related comments. Still a few bumps in that department in this chapter, so.) 6. I like the idea of Chris challenging Adrian out of a need to take out his frustrations on someone. It makes him out to be less than perfect, like he's a bit of a jerk with a lot to learn. This just means the readers can look forward to some interesting character development later on down the line. 7. Nitpick the second: When you talk about Sneasel's fingers (or lack thereof), was the fact that you capitalized "he" completely intentional? If so, it's rather odd. Normally, that kind of emphasis is used to point out something significant – in this case, that there's a difference between something in that sentence compared to something in the sentence before it that we need to pay attention to. 8. I will have to agree with bobandbill concerning the use of the words "he" and "his." Usually, this creates a slower, choppier feel to your work because it's usually done to emphasize something. Think of it like this. You know how in some shows or movies, some parts are in slow motion to emphasize the action? That's the same kind of effect using the same words over and over again to start sentences has on your writing because that's usually when an author employs that technique. 9. Overall, though, once again, I have to say I like your battles. This time around, it was pretty cool to watch Chris acting like a complete self-centered jerk towards Bosca in the middle of it, just because he's more concerned about kicking Adrian's tail than his Shroomish's well-being. It's very rare to have a character who's a jackass from the beginning, so the opportunity of watching them grow into decent people is usually missed in favor of creating a character who's inherently kind and sweet. (Or, alternatively, the author creates an overly "badass" character who never learns about treating others with respect.) Chris, meanwhile, is a good kid at heart; he just makes mistakes and shows where he needs to grow. In short, it's refreshing to watch him, and it makes him more of an exciting character because the reader can tell that there's going to be change in him. Of course, the battle itself was well-described and visceral. The description of Bosca's last move was particularly interesting. You let us visualize what's happening rather well, and of course, having Bosca get poisoned by swallowing her own attack (a possibility that's just not brought up that often) was a very nice twist. 10. That ending line. It made Chris seem very human, and, to put it simply, it was beautiful. From what I can tell right now, I'm right about your characterization. It's definitely a highlight of your fic. You know how to make characters interact with each other, and you know how to have them react to the world around them in ways that actually make readers care about them. Moreover, once again, you've created an interesting battle, and the plot seems to be pulling twists that separate it from the standard new trainer fic. (Having Chris lose horribly to Adrian, for example, and having Chris act like a total jerk in that battle.) My curiosity is piqued, and I'm definitely looking forward to the next chapter. So… yeah. Basically, your only issue seems to be a few finer details as mentioned above and in my past review, and if you're thinking about having Adrian speak Italian frequently, definitely consider doing a bit of research instead of using Google Translate. Other than that, good luck on the next chapter. |
(EDIT: I was Ninja'd by THREE people. I mean come on...)
Barev Dzez So generally, it was an interesting chapter. The bit with Ian dying was, Imo, done quite well with some interesting emotions from our intrepid protagonist. Especially since you’ve consolidated the fact that, while they weren’t friends, they were neighbours, in a sense, so you know, there’s gotta be some kind of connection there. Anyway good job on not missing out that tiny detail. It was a double-edged sword, however, in that I felt his emotions were a tad overplayed. I mean, sure it’s his neighbour and all, but I’m a bit turned off by the monologue at the top that mentions revenge and the fact that he ran off aimlessly into the distance at the mention of Ian’s death. (Btw, I can’t help but feel amused by Ian’s death considering your username and all. Just saying.) To me, well, if my neighbour was murdered, I wouldn’t be thinking about getting revenge from him, I’d be more worried about the welfare of my mum who’s living just next door and could be the next target. For all Chris knows, there was no motive, and the murderer could just be a serial killer. So yeah. That’s my thoughts on the subject. Well-played emotions; inappropriate response. On another note, I was quite amused with this Adrian character. He seems much too much like Silver for him to have not been based off of the canon character so I’m wondering if you’re adopting the name Adrian and his Italian heritage to be part of your AU canon. I also can’t help but wonder if this really is Silver without the pseudonym and a more pronounced heritage, as in you’re actually showing that he’s related to Giovanni, his father with the Italian name. In any case, my final notes on the fic relate to the battle. First off, Joey. The way you ditched him was a bit weird considering the fact that Cherrygrove isn’t that big a town (at least the way I see it) and that I think Joey would actually run after Chris. So yeah, a bit weird there. On to the battle proper, it was quite well done and, in contrast to your other fic, which I just love using as a point of juxtaposition considering I rarely do this, you showcased more emotion. Since this really wasn’t a big relationship-defining moment, I abstained from going too in-depth on that aspect, but overall it was pretty good. There was also the fact that you actually described the effect of poison which I particularly enjoyed. So yes, I enjoyed the chapter. Not as much as the previous ones, considering the few qualms I had, but enough to want to read more. |
NINJA'D I TELL YOU GUYS.
YOU'VE NINJA'D ME. Quote:
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I appreciate it! - Ian |
EDIT: Ninjas. Too many ninjas. (If you feel the need to respond to this, I'd just edit your last response post).
Man, that was a fast update. I noticed a few more trip-ups in the writing than in the previous chapters, so you might want to slow down a bit. It's never a mistake to hold off on posting for a day so you can reread it while it's not fresh in your mind. Other people have mentioned that Chris's reaction to the news of Ian's death was well-handled, and I agree with them for the most part. You got his immediate reaction just right, as well as his running off, but when he "grinned from ear to ear" after running into Adrian, I had to go "Wait, what?" Of course, different people react in different ways when it comes to death, but I didn't find it terribly convincing for him to make the switch to practically giddy so fast. I would still have him challenge Adrian to a fight, but not so smiley-like. When he gives the challenge, he feels too deliberate and in control of his emotions to me. I'm guessing some people would disagree with me on that, but I found it jarring. One thing I thought you did very well Chris-wise was how he treated Bosca during the battle. The number one danger with the stars of journey fics is being too perfect, and it's good to see Chris's flaws appear. He can be too quick to anger, and he's not a terribly good strategist. It's a good thing that Bosca's so competent, and hopefully she's forgiving after getting that kind of treatment. It was good that Chris snapped out of his frenzied fighting-mood and quit the battle, because that shows that he's not heartless, but rather has a lot of heart. Other highlights include the joke about Joey's mom, and the conversation with Chris's mom. The way she tried "talking" to Bosca was very true to life. I think a lot of people would tease a Pokemon by trying to speak to them like a Pokemon, but you don't see it in fics too often. As I mentioned earlier, there were some trip-ups in the writing that caught my eye: Quote:
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There are probably a few more mistakes in there, but I don't feel like finding them all now. All in all, good chapter. The emotion is mostly excellent, except for that one thing that rubbed me the wrong way, and you continue to write really good battles. Looking forward to the next installment. |
YOU PEOPLE ALL REVIEW AT THE SAME TIME. JESUS H. CHRIST. Lol.
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Hahahaha, apparently you’re able to post a chapter when everyone but me was on PC (I was away most of the day today). XD Because of that, they pretty much said what I wanted to point out, so this review might be a repeat of what the other reviewers mentioned, oi.
Once more, you’re very great with character interactions. Most people already mentioned some stuff like Chris’ comment over Joey’s mom and Chris’ mom conversation with Bosca. Both of those examples are very great. Chris’ reaction to Ian’s death I have to agree with icomeanon6. At first you did well with him in total shock, but then you had his mood changed all of a sudden after bumping onto Adrian. I would go with his suggestion over Chris still accepting the battle but also not really in that frame of mind to come up with good battle strategies still thinking over Ian's death. Haha, I have to laugh at Chris thinking all Italians are like that, which is so him. :P The battle itself I thought is nicely done as you did well showing Bosca’s struggle trying to do the battle on her own. I also thought Chris’ reactions during the battle is realistic too, him being very frustrated at first and then regretted screaming at his Pokemon like that. Great job on that! Real quick on the Italian: I actually took Italian in university as a foreign language requirement for my major, but forgot most of it as I almost never used it, haha. Can’t really say for sure if the translations are good or not, sorry. However, I do remember a bit how the verbs are done in Italian, and Jax got it right more or less. She’s also right if you want Adrian to say specific moves you can go to Bulbapedia to find the Italian names for those. But yeah, some research and asking around would be a good idea before trying to attempt Italian again. Don’t be too upset though as all writers, like me, experienced times like this where they wished they researched something a bit more before attempting it. XD Besides needing to study a bit Italian and also have Chris handle the news of Ian's death be a little longer, this is another great chapter here. I'm looking forward to the aftermath of all this going on. |
AUTHOR'S NOTE: As of the time of writing, I have no net access, so I can't provide any links, but I can't go without saying: "Born to Run" is a song by Bruce Springsteen, and his wonderful E-Street band. Give 'em a listen.
And please don't sue me, certain news networks. best laid plans ~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Sometimes there are no words. No clever quotes to neatly sum up what's happened that day... sometimes the day... just... ends. - Aaron Hotchner (AKA Thomas Gibson- actor on Criminal Minds) ~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Adrian Russo stepped up to the desk, extending a single gloved hand with papers clenched inside. The man behind the desk offered him a wicked, pleased smile. "These papers are more important than you think, Adrian," the man said. "I understand you're frustrated with the gruntwork. But with getting these for me, we have already taken a large step toward finding your father." The man took the papers, and set them down on the desk. He looked back up at Adrian, eyes gleaming with expectance. "********," Adrian thought. He shut his eyes, drew in a deep breath and tried to keep his cool. His hands slid down into his pockets, and his feet shifted to stabilize his position. The man grew impatient, Adrian could see. Good. He was glad to see that the man's irritability was shining through now; he could manipulate it. "Adrian, with these papers, we can study and possibly find the rumored 'Evolution Hotspot' in Tohjo Falls. With that in mind, we can grow to a more powerful position - and in power, your father is bound to come back to us." "Okay?" Adrian said. "My father was a weak man. He shouldn't come back unless he can, you know, handle a ten year old kid. I know you think the same thing, Archer. Are you sure you don't just mean to take the power all to yourself, Mr. Loyalist?" Adrian snickered. "You understand little, Adrian," Archer murmured. "You're still a child yourself. You do not know everything about the world." Adrian turned around, and moved toward the door. "But I sure as hell know enough about you." He heard the angry exhale of Archer, and he smiled widely. He slid the door against the rocky floor of this cave-base, shutting it, and prepared to head toward his barracks. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Christopher Avrich approached the door of the small home, his eyes focused on the ground. On his left, Joey stood, his arms folded over his chest, eyeing the men standing just a little farther left. They were the police escorts they had been promised, staring at them with their stern eyes. "Are we going to stand here all day, or are we going to knock, Mr. Avrich?" one of them asked. Chris threw a simple, but annoyed glance at the one who spoke. He recognized from his outstanding mental database of movies that these guys were beat cops; the newbies. Their uniforms were the main giveaway, but he could also tell from their stern but obviously forced tone of voice that they were excited; feeling big solely because they were working alongside the big, bad homicide detectives, evne if it was a menial job like escorting two kids on an errand. Chris reached up and gently knocked on the door. He heard the sound of creaky, swift footsteps. A voice called out something, but it was muffled, both by the barrier of the door and by some other thing Chris didn't recognize. The door swung open, and his sight was met with a rather short man. His brown suit was smeared with a red substance, the same thing that covered his face. "Mmph, howph camphi hamph phoo, offipherph?" Chris blinked. One of the officers, however, piped up. He apparently understood the man perfectly. "Please swallow your food, sir," he started. "And it's not us - these children are from Elm Laboratories?" The man's eyes lit up, and he chewed his food, swallowing it with a thick sounding gulp. "Oh, my! So sorry. You see, I was eating my favorite spaghetti when you arrived, and..." "Don't worry 'bout it," Chris said. "I'm Chris. Chris Avrich." The man extended his right hand and Chris grabbed it. They had a quick, firm handshake. "My name is Joseph Estar. I trust the Professor has told you my more common name, though?" "I believe it was Mr. Springsteen?" Chris asked with a grin. One of the escorts was now humming "Born to Run", and Chris couldn't help it. He broke down laughing. "I'm assuming that was a smart aleck response?" Joseph asked patiently. He too wore a thin smile upon his lips, but kept eyeing the police officers. "Aye, aye," Chris said. "Mr. Pokemon." "Bingo, Ringo!" Joseph said. "Now, care to come on in? I'll fix you some milk, or tea, or water, whatever you prefer." The officers glanced at each other momentarily, and nodded. So in response to that, Joey and Chris did the same. "Come on in, then!" Joseph said. The four of them moved inside, and Chris was awestruck at the lab equipment scattered across the small home. Beakers; test tubes filled with oddly colored liquids; desktop computers; empty cages; and the walls were dotted with small, silky patches, as if hit by a stringshot attack. And then you got to the kitchen. The kitchen was an absolute mess, scattered with papers, each dotted with their own stains; boxes upon boxes of junk, mostly mechanical parts, but some had old paper plates and cups, and some containing loads of silverware; and somewhere in there, mixed in with the mess, was a kitchen table, a stove, a refrigerator and a sink. Chris moved toward the table, and everybody else followed, except for Joseph. He approached the refrigerator, turned around and looked toward the four of them. "What can I get you gentlemen?" "I'll have a glass of milk, please," Joey said. "Water," one of the escorts said. "Tea," the other escort said. "I ain't thirsty, Joe, but thanks," Chris finished. Joseph nodded, and began to fix drinks for the four of them who would actually be drinking. He spoke as he prepared. "So, can I get the names of the rest of you men?" he asked. "If you'd prefer a last-name basis, that's fine with me." "Officer Bartelby," one of the escorts said. "Officer August," the other said. "Joey Collins," Joey responded. Joseph looked up, and cocked an eyebrow. He slid Joey his glass of milk, and then Officer August his water. "Any relation to Maya Collins?" he asked. "Yeah. Cousin." "Ah. How nice. She's one of CNN's younger journalists, isn't she?" "Yeah," Joey said. His face was slightly red. "Who in the world is she?" Chris asked. His curiousity had been admittedly peaked. Joseph looked at him like he was growing lobsters out of his ears. "Do you watch the news, Mr. Avrich?" "Pfft," Chris said. "As if. What fun is news? I prefer horror movies. Ya'know, alien invasions, murder-... murder, things like that." "My young friend, it's crucial to watch the news in today's day and time. Well, I'm assuming you've at least heard of CNN?" "Cherrygrove News Network, yeah." "Maya Collins is a journalist who works there. Currently doing an internship, but she's catching and even covering stories faster than anyone else can get their hands on them. She's awfully skilled at what she does, even at her young age. You see her face commonly." "Impressive," Chris murmured: he could honestly have cared less. It would have been more exciting were she a movie star or a popular rock singer. Joseph sat his glass down, and slid Officer Bartelby his. The five of them sat in silence for a few moments, before Joseph spoke up again. "So, officers, can I ask what these young men have done to deserve your company?" The officers looked at each other for a moment, and shook their heads. "I'm afraid not, sir," August said. "Not until we learn more ourselves," Bartelby finished. Joseph nodded. "Very well, then." The four of them finished their drinks, and Chris stood up. "Alright, Joe, ol' buddy'a Elm's, let's see this egg." Joseph stood up swiftly, knocking into one of the many boxes in the room, startling everyone else. He nodded toward Chris, and ran past him. Chris broke into a steady, careful (as to not trip on any of the things on the floor) jog after him. He heard the creaky sounds of everyone else following suit. Very soon, the five of them ended up standing in front of something Chris hadn't noticed on his way in, mixed in with those empty cages. On a small, pink pad stood a dark brown oval-shaped thing, dotted with red spots. Joseph handed Chris a flimsy sheet of paper, dark but with a blue spot in the middle. Inside this blue spot, a fuzzy form was visible: it was hunched up, but Chris could tell it was thin, but with ring-shaped extensions around its stomach. A slightly curved line was on its head, one on where Joseph had labelled "wrist". "This Pokemon," he said. "Is definitely a Pokemon. But it is something we have NEVER seen before. I have meticulously been through a guide, and not even a single of Unova's a hundred and forty two - Unova's Pokemon are unique to Unova, by the way, which is why I'm using it as an example - have descriptions to even match this in the slightest. I want you to handle this thing with care, Mr. Avrich. This thing is potentially a major scientific breakthrough. If it's harmed, I will personally come and wring your neck." Chris flinched at this threat, and Joseph looked apologetic. But he did not verbally apologize. "Now, how about you and your Pokemon take a rest before you go? You look tired, and I'm sure if you are, so is your Shroomish." Chris nodded, but was hesitant to release Bosca. He was afraid that she was mad at him, and he didn't want to face that. Apprehensively, he followed Joseph toward his bedroom. Joseph nodded and shut the door. Chris reached down toward his belt, and removed the red and white sphere, moving it in close to his eyes, staring at it intensely. "Alright," he said, pep-talking himself. "You can do this. Bosca WILL understand." He pressed his thumb against the release switch, and held it there. He realized he was sweating, deciding whether or not to truly go through with this. He pulled his thumb off, felt the ball expand, watched it fly open and send forth a flash of light, and finally materialized into the yellow, green-dotted Pokemon called Bosca. Chris felt like slamming his head into the tangible tension he felt. He shut his eyes, and waited to hear the fearful squeak. But instead came one of happiness. "Mish!" Bosca cried. She leaped up onto the bed, and nudged up against Chris. Chris lifted a hand and gently stroked her. This elicited a pleased sound from Bosca, and Chris couldn't help but crack a thin smile. "Hiya, gal," he said. "Kinda missed ya." "Mish! Shroomish!" Bosca responded. "You too, huh?" he asked. "Righty'o, then. You feelin' alright, other than missin' me?" "Mish! Mish?" Bosca asked. "Glad to hear it: and yeah, I'm doin' just fine too. I was a little worried, though. You recovered just fine, though, it seems - hey, we're here, by the way! Over at Mr. Pokemon's place. We're just gonna get some rest 'fore we go." "Mish!" Chris fell back onto the mattress, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. He felt Bosca move in close to his side, and without a moment's hesitation, he allowed himself to drift off into sleep. The end of his nap came all too soon, though; it felt like just as he closed his eyes, he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently into consciousness. He flipped over to see who it was: it was Joey, Bosca on the floor next to him. "Eh, c'mon Joey, five more minutes..." Chris muttered. "Elm's called. The Police Chief wants us there within two hours. We gotta go, Chris," Joey said. "Screw thaaatttt- eh, I mean... fine. Let's go." Chris rolled off the bed, and fell to his knees quite purposefully, providing a shoulder for Bosca to jump onto. She did happily, and the three of them walked outside to the mess of the rest of the home. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~ About an hour and a half later, the four people arrived at New Bark Town, and then not even five minutes after that, at the Elm Laboratory. "Police Cars are useful," Chris mused mentally. The outside of the lab was hounded, absolutely covered by morbidly curious New Bark residents, and of course, members of Cherrygrove's press. A murder story of quiet New Bark Town, especially in a famous Professor's domain, was too good for them to give up. What confused Chris was the fact that the police had tried to cover it up for now, and yet the press had found out so quick. He guessed that if they had rolled out Ian's body, that had probably done it. Of course, none of them were being let in. The morons were asking questions of stoic guards, each standing on the side of the door: each refusing to move, much less speak. As their group moved through the crowd, a reporter quickly moved toward them, asking questions. "Oh, they're letting you through? What makes you guys so special? Care to give a thought, some insight, as to what is going on?" Chris flipped the man off, and he could see visible anger in his eyes. But he forced a smile. "What's your name, young man?" "I suggest you move," Bartelby interrupted. The reporter complied, and they managed to squeeze past. They entered the lab and shut the door behind them just as quickly as they entered, walking toward the back of the place. Police tape blocked their path, so they simply ducked under it. What Chris saw at the back filled him with a mixture of anger, sadness and simple horror. The entire area was painted red, a spray of the color having showered papers, computers and the walls. It was dried blood. They were pulled aside by a man of large stature, looming over them like a building. Chris recognized his face: he was the one who had talked to them in the Pokemon Center, via VidPhone. He sighed audibly, causing Joey to give him glances. In these moments, Chris could see the fear in his eyes: with a child his age seeing this scene, he could understand it. They stopped in a corner of the office, where a long silver desk had been set up. The three of them took a seat. "So, boys. Can I get you anything? Water? Milk?" Both Chris and Joey shook their heads. "Alright," the officer said. "I know you children understand just what is going. Mr. Ian Donyer was murdered last night in this Laboratory. His throat was slashed, but we can't determine the instrument used just yet. Not even ten minutes after we arrived at the scene, you children called. It is taught to cops like myself: offenders tend to come back to the scene." Chris slapped his palm against his face. "Don't tell me you think either of us did it?" "Did you, Mr. Avrich?" Chris shot the man a glare that could kill a Tyranitar. "Of course not! Ian was a friend. A real good friend. What motive would I have? Do you really think I could do this?" Joey spoke up, nodding. "If the murder occurred last night, then you can call my mom - Tamara Collins. We were withb her all night long..." Chris had to resist making a comment on that. He let loose another, formidable sigh. "Well, my main concern is that you guys could be formidably sneaky," the officer said. "Do we look like the sneaky types?" Chris asked. "Things aren't often as they look. I dislike thinking that children like yourselves could perform such a task, but there are certain evidence items that broaden our horizons. August! Bring it out." Officer August nodded, and moved away for a short time. Within a minute or so, he came back with a plastic bag in hand. All Chris saw inside it was a blank sheet of printing paper. Then he turned it around. What was printed on this side was simple, but from the draw of breath Chris heard Joey perform, it was something important. It took him a few moments to recognize it - but he did the same thing. It was a bright red R. "...W-what...?" Chris asked. "Do you not recognize it, Mr. Avrich?" the officer asked. "...But what do they have to do with this?" He felt his limbs begin to shake. He was putting the pieces together. "We assume that this is fake, Mr. Avrich, as Rocket was disbanded over three years ago. But perhaps someone wishes to mimic them - a young group of gangsters who wish to make it big like they did. Would you know anything about this?" Chris had a feeling. He shut his eyes, drew in a deep, shaky breath and spoke. "It's real." "Excuse me, Mr. Avrich?" "The murder weh-...weapon... was a Sneasel. The murderer...is... gah, DAMN IT!" Chris slammed his fist down into the table, and began to breathe heavier. "...was a boy. My age. Red hair, black jacket. The jacket.. had-... it had an R, just like that, s-sewed onto it. His name is Adrian Russo." The officer across the table looked at him with eyes that glinted with excitement. "Like Giovanni Russo, Mr. Avrich?" Chris nodded. "Yeah." "I see. And how did you come upon this information?" "...Deduction. I battled the guy. He had a Sneasel. Those claws look perfect to k-..k..." "...Kill someone with, Mr. Avrich?" Chris nodded again. He felt tears of frustration began to rip at him. "Yeah." "I see. I'll allow you children to have some rest, then. Mr. Avrich, your home is just nearby, isn't it?" Chris nodded a third time. "Yep. Can we go over there?" The officer smiled. "Yes. We will have Officer August post guard, though." Chris sighed. "Good enough. Joey, you ready?" The boy nodded slowly. Chris could still see some hesitancy in this: but it was understandable. The two of them got out of their seats, and they, alongside Officer August, headed to the Avrich house. |
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Well, that's one way to write a self-insert (as others might claim). By killing them off. Not much for me to comment on this chapter. This seems like a chapter necessary to move the story onward, but not much (except for Chris getting that egg) happened in it story-wise. It still brought Chris further into the other plot happening with the Rockets and Adrian. (Adrian and the Rockets sounded too much like a band.) Speaking of which, A+ on the Springsteen reference. Also, I liked the scene where Chris saw Bosca again for the first time after the battle with Adrian. In that small scene, you showed how Chris is growing up a little bit every day by facing small problems along with the big ones like murder. And besides, any scene with that adorable Shroomish is always a plus. A few wonky grammar things: Quote:
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This was still a good read, and I'm looking forward to the next chapter. |
Another enjoyable chapter - like Astinus said the Chris and Bosca scene was neat and I also liked how the chapter unfolded as well - the slow pace of it really suited it, I thought, with the scenes of them drinking while Mr Pokemon slowly regarded the boys and the policemen with them. I also found the opening scene with our murderer to be interesting as well with your take on his thoughts on his father - and yay for Archer as well.
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Overall it was good - again, keep it up! |
Oh, I quite like this chapter a lot. Yeah, like Astinus said not too much going on, but it's still necessary to get some stuff from the previous chapters resolved.
The first scene with Adrian and Archer gives off some nice foreshadowing there. Of course, we already know Adrian is Giovanni's father, but it gives development (and making us wonder) over the two's motives. I already love your take of Archer, especially with his quote "You're still a child yourself. You do not know everything about the world." Haha, you did nicely with Mr. Pokemon. He's pretty eccentric there, LOL. The part with Chris and Bosca is very sweet and adorable. I like how you had him worried and being hesitant at first before releasing her, but glad she's happy to see him. ^^ The last part with Joey and Chris at the lab is my favorite one in this chapter. You did really well having Chris realized it was Adrian that killed Ian and how so. The tension done there is well done. Overall, great read here! Looking forward to next chapter! |
best laid plans
And a new narrator takes over. Shove your ass out the way, Mister Avrich; seems I'm taking the star's spot in this story. I am the reasoning behind the whole story. His story? Heh. This is mine. Okay, okay, we share it, I admit. But I'm still the most important one. Don't believe me? Check it out. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chris got no sleep that night. It was a given, he figured. He laid his head upon his pillow for the first time at nine o'clock in the evening, closed his eyes and saw the world. He saw it in red, a macabre view of the Earth around him. He saw the man coming in close, jagged knife in hand. Even the horror movie tracks. All in his head, he learned when he opened his eyes next to glance at the clock and see not even one minute had passed. He lay there like this until three o'clock in the morning. By this point he had given up on the idea of sleep, and had given his night over to his thoughts. He tried to divert them from death, and had relative success. But when he heard a crash downstairs, he immediately picked up Bosca and shook her awake, whispered his concerns to her and let the two of them rush down the stairs. He leaped down the final step and pointed toward the noise's cause, about to cry out a command, when he saw it was simply Joey. “...Christ, Joey, scare a guy like that,” he murmured. Joey's tired eyes looked apologetic. “Sorry! I just... wanted a glass of water. Dropped the dang thing. Lucky it didn't break...” At that point, once Joey had gone back up, Chris snuck outside with Bosca. The night scenery was absolutely stunning. The night sky was clear and aglow with the light of thousands of tiny, dancing stars. They illuminated the lake beside his home. He heard the sounds of buzzing bug Pokemon, scurrying their way through the nighttime before they were forced to go undercover in the light. He sighed, slid down against the wall of his house, and with Bosca, spent the rest of the night simply admiring the view. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ He understood the consequences of it all a bit too well for his tastes. Ignorance is bliss was a policy he had always believed in, and it had been drilled into him at his induction ceremony with little to no trouble. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. I am a grunt, who may or may not rise in the ranks some day: but as a grunt, I am nothing. I have been of little importance and will continue to be of little importance until I make myself such. Ignorance is bliss is a grunt's policy and I accept it with open arms. ” Of course, those words were spoken on a more private day. To the formal world of the Rocket Gang, they had recited some ******** about how they were proud to be a part of Team Rocket. He recited those words off memory, the day in which he had first spoken them in his head as fresh as if it had happened just the previous day. He smiled with satisfaction, stepping out of the shadow and into the light, staring at the horrified person in front of him. “I'm sorry,” he said. He reached forward, stroking the child's head of burning red hair. “Little Miss. If I could avoid doing this, I would, but it's for the better. Please forgive me in the afterlife. Come down to Hell to visit me some time, okay?” The man removed the pistol from its holster, placing it against her forehead and pulled the trigger. He heard the sound of the splatter of blood on the wall behind her. He reached down and wiped away the remnants of tears streaming down her cheeks with his gloved hands, then turned. In the dark, he could barely see himself in the mirror, but he knew the broad R on his shirt was a little more red than normal. He sighed. He would have to change it. “Ambassador Juniper, your daughter has left the building. Really sucks for you when you mess with Team Rocket.” He let loose another sigh, a bit more forceful than the last one. “Really.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Mom, I want to travel.” Elizabeth Avrich looked at her son oddly. “Are you sure? With what you've been through, I don't...” “Mom, I'll be fine. R-...really, you're just worried about letting me go. I see it all the time in the movies. I'll be careful, mom, plus I'll have Joey by my side.” “...Chris, you're talking about Team Rocket here!” “Red did it!” Chris said. “You're not Red,” his mother argued. “It's a stretch to even call yourself close. I'm not saying you can't be! But right now, you're not even close.” Chris turned around, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I'm going, mom. That's the end of it.” “Can you at least think it over a little longer, honey?! It's dangerous out there!” Chris continued on his walk to the door, Bosca trotting along beside him. He slipped through the door. His mother ran up through the door and drew him into an embrace. “...Fine! Stubborn little kid. At least tell me if there's something I can do for you, okay? And call me every day just as soon as you can. I'll track you myself if you forget even once.” Chris smiled and returned the hug. “I'm a bit too scared of the wrath of the infamous mom to forget. Thanks.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Of course I should not have to tell you that you did a wonderful job tonight, David. I'm more than pleased with your performance.” “Thank you, Archer, sir!” David said. “It means-” “It should mean nothing,” Archer deadpanned. David's face went red. He had screwed up. “...Of course not, sir.” Archer smiled his signature, devilish smile. “It means that you are up for a promotion, and quick. Mr. Milwood, it's a shame that I can't simply give it to you. But I can if you perform one more assassination for me.” David nodded. “Anything, sir.” “Giovanni's son, the brat, has recently made the mistake of coming into the sight of a public person. The boy's name, as Adrian says, is Christopher Avrich. He lives in New Bark Town. I'd rather not let them track Adrian in case the boss does come back. Find him and kill him.” David nodded dutifully yet again. “Will do, sir.” Archer let his smile turn into a grin. “Thank you much, David.” “No problem, sir.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Short Chapter. I know. Sorry for it, but I felt this point as a suspenseful point to end it. :3 |
Woo reviewing despite the crazy words due to 'applesauce' =p.
It was rather short, but again it seemed to be alright for this chapter so you were 'right' I suppose to end it there. =p I am a bit confused over what Juniper/her daughter (curiously does she have one in any of the canons...?) did however to earn an assassination - I wonder if that would be touched upon later on. This new TR character is interesting though - wonder how he'll go about trying to kill Chris there... Quote:
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Keep it up - but how many stories are you ducking now? O_o |
First off, the only thing I have to say over the first part is that's a pretty intense dream Chris had there. D:
The assassination scene, I actually want to thank you for having a Team Rocket use a gun! \o/ Seriously, for once the grunts should be able to use guns, not Pokemon on children. That's one of my pet peeves, haha. The scene with Chris and his mom I feel is a bit rushed. I feel you could have mentioned a bit over how Chris was nervous over asking his mom to travel but had some hope she was going to say yes. Also, it seemed his mother changed her mind quickly over her decision. Perhaps after his mother said no, have Chris thought over the situation and then a few minutes later his mother comes to later say she's fine with him traveling. I do have to also agree the last part ends nicely in a suspenseful note. Shall be interesting how David will handle this new assignment. Chapter very short, yes, but still quite good. Only thing is I felt the scene with Chris and his mother should be expanded a bit more. |
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Oh, it's your other story that I'm two chapters behind on. Okay. But I guess it's good that I'm waiting for an update to this story. Two things on grammar that I saw and want to get out of the way. Quote:
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I'm going to combine both Bay's and bobandbill's opinions and say that the assassination scene and the scene between Chris and his mother need more. For the assassination scene (A+ on using a gun, by the way), I had to read over the death scene a few times to understand just what happened there. And it will be interesting to see why Juniper and her daughter got involved with this plot. And yeah, the scene where Chris wants to leave home felt a little rushed. A bit more attention to both of their feelings on the matter would help improve it. Just for a bit more of an emotional punch right there. I do like your opening narration, and the nighttime scene. It was a good way to show that Chris is still affected by the news, and that Joey is more of an innocent character, since he could get to sleep. And the outside world was described nicely. This chapter ended in a good spot. As I said, I'm looking forward to an update. |
Author's Note: There are indeed chapter titles now. I will get around to giving the first six some lovin' like this when I get off my lazy behind. :3 'till then, bare with me, and I will eventually edit them in. best laid plans Goddammit, what the hell do you think you're doing? Taking my place? Sheesh. Sorry 'bout that, folks. Anyways, if there was one lesson I ever learned about life is that irony's cold glare was your best friend sometimes. Think about that. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Seven: A Gastly Experience through the Ghastly Tower “Hello, dear guest. My name is David Milwood; you've messed with Team Rocket too severely. It's time for you to die.” With his gun loaded, he pressed it to the forehead of the boy and pulled the trigger. He heard the bang, loud and clear, and the last surprised gasp of Christopher Lawrence Avrich Jr., resident of New Bark: fourteen years old, son of Elizabeth Kaitlyn Avrich and Christopher Lawrence Avrich Sr. “Good-bye.” He saw the blood mixed with the boy's sweat, his brain matter splattered on the pale wall behind them. He reached forward, wiping his tears away with his thumb. He smiled slyly. It all seemed too real to him now: he had just blown out the brains of an imaginary boy. Not even the gun had been loaded. But he practiced his hits before they occurred, to make himself more prepared. Preparedness was what he needed. His job wasn't easy on the psyche; he was smart enough to admit that. He did it for the pay, and for... other reasons. But the pay his predominant reason. It was tremendous for a grunt in the DPS (Down-low Pay System; simply keeping your source of pay on the down-low. To most people it looked as if you were just doing some high-paying job; like a computer technician or some other thing), and he needed the money desperately. He set aside fifteen-percent of each kill's payout: but the rest was spent on food, money and weapons. He did have one Pokemon he needed to feed, and it was a muncher, taking about forty-percent of his money. But he was satisfied, he supposed. It payed the bills and it gave him his thrills. He let his smile fade and let loose a sigh. “Now, Noctowl, let's hurry and get back...” He did have three other Pokemon that didn't need to be fed. He liked those the best: those who could get the job done and get the hell out of his life until they were needed again. He sat on the stool where the imaginary corpse sat, pushing it out of the way and allowing him to relax. Now he simply had to wait. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ It took a few days, but after the clearance from the Homicide Detectives and of course, from his mother, Chris was able to reach Violet City alongside Joey. Very little actually occurred on the trip there, except for an encounter with a wild Spinarak: turned out Joey was a sufferer of arachnophobia. “Alright!” Chris exclaimed, albeit with a bit of hesitance in his voice, “let's see how we do at this place.” “You sure, Chris?” Joey asked. “We just got here... we really don't want to go inside. Maybe get some rest...” Chris smiled slyly. “You can get some rest, maybe. I'm challenging this place. Me and Bosca will Ace it!” Joey reached up, wiping the sweat off his brow. “I'll be at the Pokemon Center... I'll reserve a room for two, 'kay?” “'kay,” Chris agreed. So that was how Chris managed to get into the predicament of being lost inside Violet City's most famous landmark. It was a tower that was said to be a hundred feet tall. A hyperbole, Chris thought, as he looked at it: it was thirty, forty at max. But oddly enough, if you looked at its old, brown structure close enough, it seemed to sway with the gentle wind that always blew through Violet. Still, forty feet was a large bit of space to cover. He got no help, either. There were plenty of monks who resided in the tower and knew every square inch of the chewed up wooden place by heart. The rules of the “Sprout Tower Challenge” stated that he couldn't receive help. The only help he could get was “The hearts of him and his Pokemon”. Bla, bla. All that Bull Snot. He only got out because he nearly died. “C'mon, Bosca. Hop on, you gotta be ten times as tired as I am.” “...Mmmmiiissshhhh...” He lowered his shoulder, allowing Bosca to hop up. He sighed with discontent, but trucked on. He was met with a bit of a roadblock: a large spider web hanging in between two wooden beams that was the only open path he could find. “...Here we go,” Chris whispered – and shot through the web, his body filling with a sudden burst of anxiety. He nearly toppled over onto the ground but managed to catch his balance at the last moment, his face paling and his skin turning cold as ice. This place had an ominous feeling. He swiped himself out of the remains of webbing, and kept walking forward. Maybe it was just the natural vibe of the place. Wooden, creaky, dark and having the entrance covered in spider web... these were all key horror movie signs of something going terribly wrong. He drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. He was just being a worry-wart. A nervous-nelly. That type of person was something he had always hated, and he chastised himself mentally for being such a hypocrite. He continued to walk on. Suddenly, after a few minutes of walking, his foot hit a floorboard just as normal. But this one gave a particularly odd sound: Chris thought he heard it hiss. He was paralyzed for a moment, but shrugged it off and continued his walk. Bosca was shivering. As if her innate Pokemon senses were telling her something. Chris looked at her through his peripheral vision, but didn't say anything. He laughed quietly. Or she could just be cold. It was oddly breezy in here – maybe there was a window closeby! Then he could look out and at least estimate how far up he had gotten, also in-turn giving him a good perspective of where to go next. He sighed with relief, searching around in what was now near pitch-black for some source of light in the distance. As he kept walking, he saw nothing. He finally spoke. “Hey, gal, did'ja see anything? You alright?” “Mish... mish, Shroo, shroomish.” “...Really now?” he asked. He could definitely sense fear in her voice. Something was up. Bracing himself, he tilted back his head and screamed as loud as he could (putting one hand over Bosca's closer ear in order to prevent hearing damage to her), “HEY! Whoever is in here, get out of the shadows! I know you're here!” The only response was a surprised cry from Bosca, and the sound of Rattata scurrying away. He sighed. “Sorry, gal.” “...Mmmiiissshhhh...” Suddenly, Chris felt something pass by him. He knew it was in no way an illusion or a phantom brush. Or perhaps it was the latter. Perhaps this place was haunted? He was in a dark room with no human company at what... nine, ten P.M.? It fit the template for a Haunted House story perfectly. Chris shivered with anxious anticipation. And he shivered again just seconds after he calmed down when the wet, large tongue lapped his right cheek. He screamed in surprise, jumping aside and toppling to the ground – really, this time. He heard a surprised shriek from Bosca, looking over to find her. He only saw glowing eyes, huge ones, but with pupils about the size of a small bead. Then it rushed forward. Chris felt it envelope him. He tried to scream but no sound would come out: with his last desperate strength, he slid his arm out, reaching for Bosca, but he only heard a thin thud sound and a rolling tumble as his hand hit fabric. His backpack. He cursed mentally, then his world went black. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Hello, handsome.” Chris looked at the odd invader of his thoughts, his arms folded over his chest. “Who are you, and why are you in my head?” This invader stood at the exact same height as him, but with long brown hair down to her shoulders. Her body was of the hour-glass figure, her garb being a plain black dress. Her eyes were small and beady, black pupils staring at him, piercing into the depths of his very soul. “Because I'm hungry,” the girl said. Her hand moved up, revealing a struggling purple and white mass in her hand. She stuck the Rattata in her mouth and chomped down, chewing noisily. Chris flinched, hearing the crunch of its skull in her mouth. She let her tongue out of her mouth, painted a bright red and licking her lips. “You looked tasty.” Her lips were now stained as well, leaking onto some of her mouth. She tossed the dead rat aside, and Chris watched it seem to sink into the dark gray floor, creating a small wave of ripples. The next moment, the girl had disappeared. In her place was a man, taller than him by a long shot, at least three feet: and Chris was five foot six. He stepped back, his eyes wide with horror. “Time for you to die, Mr. Avrich – you've messed with Team Rocket for long enough!” He let loose a howl of laughter, making Chris visibly shake. He stepped back, and the man stepped forward. Twice. Each step Chris made backward, the closer the man drew to him, and before long they were so close that their noses could have touched. Had they been of near equal height. The man was a lummox, his broad, calloused hand pulling out a gun from his pocket (Chris was surprised he hadn't noticed it before), and pressed it against Chris's forehead. He pulled the trigger. Chris felt a sudden jolt of pain shoot through his head, tumbling backward onto the gray, shiny surface of Dreamland (so he called it), sending ripples outward. He opened his eyes and saw that a small flag had burst out of the gun barrel, reading in tiny blue capitals, “BANG!” The man roared with feminine laughter. He faded back into the image of the girl. “You fear easy,” she mused. “This is going to be quite a meal...” Chris stood up, focused on one thing and one thing only: gettting out of here alive. He shot forward, his hand curled into a firm fist, aiming for it to hit the girl square in the face. But before he even got there, an agonizing pain shot through his arm. He screamed, his face going a bright red, his body convulsing slightly as he hit the ground. “This is my world you sit in,” the girl deadpanned, her eyes narrowing, “this is my world and thus my rules. My rules state that I can't be harmed.” Chris looked up at her spitefully. “Who the hell ARE you?” “I am everyone, and I am no one. I am the departed.” “You're a ghost?” “No, I'm a Ghos. Without the T. Also known as some countries,” she mused, peeling away part of her face as if it were another part of her routine, revealing a small section of blasting purple gas, “as Gastly.” Suddenly, it made sense to him. He picked himself up off the ground and ran toward her again. This was still his mind. He was going to push this ***** out of it if it killed him. Which he had the distinct feeling that it probably would. He slipped his hand forward once again, this time coming within a few inches of her face before another jolt of pain shot up his arm. He ignored it the best he could, continuing to shove himself forward: and he broke through. The punch connected with a thick cracking sound, and Chris watched, awestruck as more pieces of the false face flecked off like pieces of glass from a mirror. More of the purple gaseous substance leaked out, now giving her a bit of a gas cloak. The cost of this, though, was that his arm was now immobile. He had use of one arm. ****. This wasn't turning out well, but he was making progress: the only question was how much progress he could make until he couldn't use any of his body parts. What would happen then? He supposed he would find out. He had nothing to lose. He was going to be eaten if he didn't try to fight, and was probably going to be eaten if he did anyway; a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. He would rather be damned if he did, than damned if he didn't. He looked up from the ground with furious eyes. “Now you'd better get out of my goddamn mind before I make you!” Gastly-Woman cackled madly. “Make me, then, boy! I am infinite! You can't beat me with your weak little mind!” Christopher Avrich grinned from ear to ear, leaking anxiety out of every pore in his body. “Let's go then, *****.” “Name calling, young man. Name calling.” The Gastly-Woman walked forward calmly, her psychic barrier pushing Chris back a bit. He had made a hole in it from his pushing earlier: he would have to use that, he figured. “I like you. You're a feisty one. I believe you'll be quite the tasty one too!” Chris dashed toward her, forcing himself to ignore the barrier she had around her and using its hole to his advantage. He picked up his good hand, hoping his hardest to actually find it. It was invisible; there was no sure way. He thrust his palm against one-spot: pain. He screamed, jumping back as she walked closer. “Play, play, little child, as it will be your last playdate... shall we enjoy it?” Chris picked himself up out of the daze he was put in, and made another frantic grab for the spot. He felt his hand slip through: good. Now to execute his plan. With a forceful grunt, he tugged his arm diagonally. He hoped that through sheer will and force combined, he could get the spot moved, moving the location of the barrier. But something even better happened. At the cost of another arm's usage, going numb and limp in by his side, he saw her entire torso break away. She was a floating mass of purple gas now with a human face. Her legs were not attached to her, but instead moving directly on their own. She didn't even seem to notice. “Trying to break through the barrier is futile,” she deadpanned, her mouth still. Chris recognized this to be telepathy. He brought his leg up, smashing it down through the broken hole. It connected to the leg-space, but passed on through. Shattering of glass could be heard, and now the legs were gone entirely. His leg went numb. With one final gesture, Christopher Avrich grabbed onto the sides of the tangible psychic barrier and gave the face a firm headbutt. It shattered. The girl let loose a gasp that ended in a,“..astly!”, before the world around them began to crumble. Chris caught a piece of the sky hanging from its original place and held it fast, its sharp edge cutting into his now not-numbed hands. He felt blood trickle down his wrist, painting his skin red. He let go only because a voice told him to. He didn't know why, but he trusted it. “Let go, son,” the voice said. “Wake! The Gastly has left you – you are a lucky one.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Christopher Avrich woke up to a world that was made of the word “pain” – he saw it in many different colors. Light pinks, pale blues, bright, blinding reds, and the sheets of white heat. Oh god, the white hot agony that pulsed throughout his body, making him gasp as something was pressed down in his hand. “Who...are...you...” “...This is for me to know and you never to know, son,” the voice said, and within moments Chris felt himself begin to fade out of consciousness again. He heard the slight chirping of a concerned Bosca... and then nothing. |
Wow. What a creepy chapter.
You did well in setting the mood for the scene. Describing the tower as the typical haunted house made me just wait to see what Chris would find. And the scene with the Gastly was even more intense because of the chapter's opening scene. One grammar mistake I found: Quote:
Looking forward to finding out how Chris got away from that Gastly and who helped him out. And what happens when that assassin meets up with him. And Joey. Can't forget him. |
best laid plans It isn't a sin to accept a gift, is it? I didn't know the man, sure: but he had saved my life. In no way could he have wished harm. Even if he did give me the very thing that tried to kill me. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Eight: The Day of Bad Luck Christopher Avrich woke up in a world of oddity. He no longer felt pain, but instead an odd buzzing sensation in his muscles, making him want to twist and turn to get it out, but he couldn't move to do so. With what little feeling he did have, he felt soft fabric beneath him. Was he home? Warm in his own bed? No. He knew this from the soft, steady beeps around him, the voices from a short distance and the ever-present realization that his ass was shining through the back of the hospital gown he wore. He grinned tiredly. He knew from the fatigue he felt he couldn't sit up – but he managed to muster up the force to speak. He didn't know if anyone else was in the room with him; his vision was still blurry, probably from a long time of rest. “Hello? Is.. an-anyone there?” The sound of heavy footsteps across tiled floor. Boots, Chris thought – only those thick things made the click-clack sound he heard. Then a kind voice, filled with a masculine concern. “Hello, son. I'm glad to see you're awake. My name is Dr. Segall, and I'm the one who's gonna be treating you. Can I get your name?” As his vision cleared, Chris saw a rugged face donned in a white coat, blue polo shirt and khaki pants. Looking downward, he saw thick boots. Damn he was good. “...Chris. Av-” “Don't concern yourself with the surname at the moment. I'm sure it hurts to speak, doesn't it?” Chris nodded slowly. “Then Chris is enough.” Segall smiled kindly, his hand moving toward his coat pocket and pulling out a pen while the other moved toward the edge of his bed, pulling out a clipboard. He scribbled down a few things. “You're lucky, Chris. Very lucky. Gastly poisoning can topple Steelix sometimes. You know what that means?” The doctor let his smile increase, though Chris could tell it was faked some. “You've got a spirit tougher than a Steelix. That's truly impressive.” “...Heh.” Chris glanced toward his side and at his nightstand. Two Pokeballs were atop it, along with the clothing he had been wearing. “You almost died, Chris,” Segall continued. “I don't mean to scare you, but-” “...Bosca,” Chris said. “Excuse me?” Segall asked. “...Bosca. My Po-...Pokemon...” “Ah, yes!” Segall exclaimed, obviously just remembering the subject. “Both your Shroomish and your other Pokemon are as fine as frog hair, my friend. They're inside their Pokeballs: do you want me to release them?” Chris nodded slowly. The fact that he only knew of Bosca slipped his tired mind; he only wanted to see her, make sure she was alright. The doctor nodded, moving toward the nightstand and picking up both Pokeballs. He released them: with a flash of light, two Pokemon materialized. Bosca cried out in happiness, jumping up onto the bed. “Mishhh!” “...Goo-...good to see you too, gal,” Chris said, laughing weakly. He looked to see the other Pokemon, his other one- it struck him. He let out a gasp of surprise, ignoring the pain it caused his throat. No way this could happen. He hadn't caught this Pokemon. Yet it was here with him. The Gastly floated over to him, staring him in the face. 'Hello, handsome,' she said in that familiar feminine voice, piercing his mind. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The force of nature that interested David Milwood the most was water. Water, he thought, was the driving force of the world; humans and Pokemon alike needed it to survive. There seemed to be infinite amounts of it, and, given time, it could tear down the mightiest of mountains. He thrust his hand down into the river and took it into his skin, cupping his palms together to hold large quantities of it: then he drank, repeating the process until his thirst was quenched. He sighed a sigh of content and sat up, stroking the head of the Pokemon beside him. “Alright, Munchlax. Let's go.” With a simple, hearty yell, the green human-like thing beside David began to waddle forward. David joined him, a smile plastered across his visage. He recalled the previous night. David glanced out the window once again, perhaps at two, three o'clock in the morning. It was a pretty night, the stars shining brightly, the sounds of the dark going full-blast and thus creating a soothing, peaceful melody. It was not abnormal for David to be up this late. On days where his information was being gathered by his sources in the east, well... he was nocturnal, a night owl waiting for news on his tiny little mouse prey. Suddenly, his train of thought was snapped as the familiar chirping hit his ears. He nodded. “Thanks, Noctowl.” He grabbed something from the pale brown bird's talons, unrolling the contents. A letter. 'HELLO, RECIPIENT THE INFORMATION YOU ARE LOOKING FOR IS AVAILABLE' Beneath this scrawling, broken all-capitals letter was a small profile. A picture of a shaggy haired boy at its side read above it, “CHRISTOPHER LAWRENCE AVRICH JR.” He smiled. Here was his prey. The Rocket System had gone haywire recently, sort of downgrading its capabilities: only certain allies had actual pictures of anything. Rocket databases only had information. David needed to identify his prey through looks. Now he could get his last known location. “Noctowl, show me on this map...” He pointed to a map on the wall of the Johto region. Then he lifted up the letter, pointing to the picture. “Where you saw this boy.” Noctowl was not a stupid bird. He was born of genetics, a Rocket Scientist's project, to have four important qualities: move as fast as a Braviary, as quietly as a Pidove, have the memory of a Donphan, and most important of all, be thorough. He simply jabbed his beak into the section of the map in light purple labeled “VIOLET CITY”. “Violet City, eh? Thanks, Noctowl.” He set the paper down onto his desk, pulling out a pen from the small container in its corner and marking down something on the letter. “DO YOU LIKE ROCK?” a question asked. David scrawled down in messy handwriting, “YES. MY FAVORITE BAND IS AC/DC. ARCHER YOUNG IS A GUITAR GOD.” This was a code in the Rocket System to make sure that the recipient of the letter was the person who was supposed to receive it. Rockets and Rockets ONLY knew it – if someone got lucky enough to guess the AC/DC part right AND think their guitarist is a God, they would still be ignorant enough to put “ANGUS” instead of “ARCHER”. He rolled the package up and stuck it back through Noctowl's talons. “Thanks. You can go now.” Noctowl burst off. Smiling devilishly, he thrust his legs out of his window and slid out onto his roof. Thrill seeker he was, he knew that what he was going to do was dangerous. But he didn't care. If he died, he wouldn't have anything to worry about. If he lived, well, here's to living. He slid off the roof and felt himself began to fall. He quickly unhooked the single Pokeball attached to his belt and pressed the release button downward. Beneath him, a flash of white light materialized into the form of a blue back with red wings. His Salamence roared wildly, and burst off into the distance just as David thudded against his back. He felt a pain shoot up his shoulder, but ignored it, adrenaline giving him a thin high. “ALRIGHT! LET'S GO, SALAMENCE! OFF TO VIOLET CITY!” Of course, it was a way overly dramatic exit for what ended up happening. He was currently on his way out of Violet. Turned out the Avrich boy had gotten attacked by a Gastly and was now in the hospital. Figured. He wasn't going to attack incapacitated prey. It lacked the adrenaline high that he needed. It lacked the thrill of the capture. To see the fear on the face of his victim was one of his most pleasant memories. He had quite the book of them. Girls, Boys, men and women, old ladies and old men, black, white, so many different groups of people that had eventually died by his hand. He grinned devilishly. “I'll get you soon, Christopher Avrich.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 'Surprised?' Gastly asked. 'I don't know why that man gave me to you of all people. Of course I'm surprised too. But I suppose I can't say I'm not pleased.' An image of the girl appeared in his mind's eye, winking. 'After all, I suppose I can learn something from you, if you managed to beat me.' Chris could tell this was all a lie. She was trying to get on his good side, make him let his guard down so she could snatch him again and finish the job she had started. He smiled slyly. “I'm going to release you the moment I get out of this hospital...” 'Now why would we do that?' Gastly asked. The mouth on the darker purple orb in the center of her light purple gaseous form turned into a frown. “Why wouldn't I? You tried to kill me!” Chris cried, then shushed himself. It was late. Three o'clock in the morning to be exact. He wasn't supposed to be awake, and was having this conversation with Gastly behind close curtains, the button to call for the nurses clenched in his hand as a just-in-case. 'That was before I knew just what interesting company you were,' Gastly said. She moved close to him, her tongue going out and licking him, almost affectionately. '...Salty- I mean, I'd rather die now than try and kill you again! I've learned my lesson, trainer...' Chris nearly gagged. “Really. Tell me the truth.” Gastly looked at him, then bobbed up and down, apparently the closest thing to nodding she could manage. 'Fine. In the Sprout Tower, it's considered an insult to be captured... It's either stay with you or I may as well die.' “And who's 'ta say I don't want you to just die?” Chris asked. Gastly smiled, her two canines flashing devilishly. 'Gastly are renowned for psychic abilities. I know you don't.' “...Damn it.” So that was how Christopher Avrich ended up getting stuck in an alliance with the very thing that had tried to kill him. “...Well this is just perfect,” he thought. 'Isn't it?' ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chris was released with instructions to take it slow and careful three weeks later. He had to take some sort of stupid medication thrice a day as well. But it mattered not to him – he could get on with his journey this way. The only thing about it was that for a while, it would be alone. Joey had gone on without him. It was understandable. The kid had gotten all the way to Azalea Town, even winning against Falkner with Rats and some “other help” he hadn't elaborated on. He had just gotten off the Pokegear phone function with him, and Joey had promised to stay in Azalea and wait for him. Chris would hurry the best he could manage. But he was definitely going to take a mad dash toward one thing: challenging the Violet City Gym. He stood in front of it now, Bosca by his side. “Alright, gal – ya ready?” he asked. “These're Flyin' types we're gonna be facing. I doubt you're gonna like 'em. But I want'cha to try to your best against them, okay?” “Mish!” Bosca cried happily. “Good. Let's go.” Chris pushed forward through the doors of the gym dutifully, but was met with the sight of something that confused the heck out of him. The place was entirely empty. It looked like an abandoned, empty warehouse. He stepped inside further, examining the place. The wooden flooring seemed to be wet, but in patches. He looked up to see if there were any glaringly obvious holes in the roof, only to slap his palm against his face. The “wet spots” were not wet at all. They were shadows of the massive platform parts hanging above him. His only problem now was figuring out how to get up there. He stood there for a few moments, pondering this perilous predicament before suddenly screaming in surprise. A voice spoke up behind them. “HELLO. I AM PIDGEBOT MODEL III. CHALLENGER OR VISITOR?” “OH MY GOD WHAT THE- … oh. It's an assistancebot!” Chris realized. “Challenger. Name is Christopher Avrich.” “UNDERSTOOD. INFORMING LEADER AVERY.” Chris and Bosca were left waiting for quite a few minutes, before they were finally knocked flat on their backs, the section of floor they were on bursting out of the floor and becoming a platform instead. After about ten seconds of traveling upward, it stopped and tipped ever so slightly, knocking them onto the floor of one of the platforms above. Then it went down again, but only slightly. They were left in an area that made Chris gape in awe. The sheer force of the room had simply blown him away. He saw that it was a square-shaped platform if you looked it from below: but it was broken up into many tiny squares, he knew now. Each one had a distance of at least four feet in between; many of them five or six. The platforms were large enough for one person to stand on, with the exclusion of two of them. Two of them were large enough so that a battle could be held. Chris grinned. Gym Trainers. Pidgebot III flew up next to him. “THE OBJECTIVE OF THE VIOLET CITY GYM IS TO TEST A PERSON AND ONE POKEMON'S DEXTERITY AND JUMPING SKILL. THE POKEMON USED IS THE ONE THAT WILL BE BATTLING. YOU ARE NOW STANDING AT THE BACK OF THE GYM. YOU MUST CROSS TO ITS FRONT, WHERE LEADER FALKNER AVERY AWAITS. JUMP ACROSS THE PLATFORMS. SOME HAVE HOOKS ABOVE TO GRAB ONTO AND FINISH THE DISTANCE. OTHERS HAVE NONE. TO GET THROUGH, BOTH GYM TRAINERS MUST BE BEATEN AS WELL. SAFETY PADS ARE PLACED ON SOME OF THE LOWER RIDING PLATFORMS – YOU WILL NOT BE INJURED IN THIS CHALLENGE. TO GET UP IF YOU FALL, PRESS THE BUTTON IN THE CENTER OF THE PLATFORM YOU FALL ONTO, AND YOU WILL BE RAISED TO THE PLATFORM YOU JUMPED OFF OF. ARE THE RULES UNDERSTOOD? OPTIONS: YES/NO. IF NO, WILL BE REPEATED.” “No thanks, I-” “THE OBJECTIVE-” Chris cursed. “That's enough, Pidgebot!” “SHUTTING DOWN. CALL 'PIDGEBOT MODEL III' TO RETURN.” The mechanical Pidgey burst off toward the other end of the gym. Chris wondered now just exactly what to do. The bot had said that the Pokemon used in the jumping part of the gym would have to be used in the battling portion as well. Bosca's legs were short. And the end result of a short-legged jumper were never quite good. He sighed, kneeling down. “Sorry, gal. I'm gonna have to ask you to get back... seems we aren't gonna be able to do this together.” He pulled her Pokeball out of his pocket, and returned her. He then clipped the other Pokeball from his belt, releasing the Pokemon inside. 'Oh my, my, my. Hello there, trainer...' Gastly purred. “Ghos,” he said, referring to her by the nickname she had asked to receive. “We're fighting-” 'The Violet City Gym. Of course. I'll be waiting for you above the first trainerrrr.' Chris sighed, watching Ghos dart off, hovering above the head of the first trainer. He seemed to be speaking: conversing casually with the ghost that just rolled up on him. Wonderful. Chris managed the first few leaps with ease. The last one before the first trainer platform, however, gave him a bit of a problem. It was one of the mentioned ones with the hook to it. As Chris barreled through the air, he grabbed onto the hook, his momentum pushing the hook forward a bit too. He used this to pull himself as high in the air as possible, then he let go. Idiotic mistake. He made it: but he came sprawling down at the trainer's feet, hitting the ground with a thick thud. He lost consciousness right then and there. He came to not even two or three minutes later. It was a short-lived knock-out, but it was still a knock-out. He groaned, sitting up. He came within a few inches of the nose of a blue-haired man, his bangs coming down to cover his eyes. He was dressed in a sky blue shirt with over-sized sleeves, and baggy royal blue pants. The man pulled himself backward, a smile crossing his lips. “Sleepy head's awake. Nice. Well, I'm afraid I have some news for you.” The smile faded. He pressed his hand, firm and calloused against Chris's hair, ruffling it slightly. “That ol' noggin of yours is probably damaged a little. Probably a concussion. And you've probably got a fracture in your arm. You landed on it hard.” Chris felt the pain shoot up his shoulder: it didn't actually start hurting until he realized that it had happened. How odd. “GOD DAMN IT!” he shouted. His world went gray and fuzzy for a moment, and for a few more following, before he focused in again. He looked at the man in front of him, noticing his concern. “Aye, aye... you okay, buddy?” he asked. “I'm gonna go ahead and call for an ambulance... I'm -so- sorry that this happened. It never has before... you just had... one hell of a bout of bad luck there.” “...I tend to have those, 'buddy',” Chris muttered. But the man who had diagnosed him was quite right, and Chris had a concussion and had to get his arm set up in a sling. And this was how he ended up getting to fight Falkner, who was the man who had diagnosed him with the blue obsession, without having to fight his gym trainers and with approval to use both Bosca and Ghos. All with a dizzy head and a broken arm. Funny how luck worked sometimes. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Next chapter: Handicapped Trainer versus the Winged Master of Violet! Flying works so much better without a broken wing. |
Oh, that Ghos is quite the character. Her actions and dialogue had me laughing in quite a few places. I particularly like:
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This review feels lacking. But I'm looking forward to seeing how Chris does in his first Gym battle. |
Chapter 7
The parts with Chris I’ll agree with Astinus that it’s quite creepy. ._. I’ll admit though, at first I was confused what was going on at the part where someone said to him “Time for you to die, Mr. Avrich – you've messed with Team Rocket for long enough!” but after it’s revealed a Gastly is doing it, it makes more sense with what’s going on. Looks like Chris is still in trouble at the end there, though. D: Chapter 8 So Chris got that Gastly, and it’s the same one that was teasing and confusing him last chapter. Since they’re now together, oh boy this shall be interesting as the story progresses, haha. Like Astinus, I too like Ghos as she got quite a personality there. I quite like David’s flashback scene because it reveals a bit more of his character. His Noctowl is very interesting and also I like how the messages being send are in code. I’m a sucker for codes. XD Dang, poor Chris with his concussion! :< But hey, at least he’ll get to battle with Falkner, although the end result of that battle won’t be a pretty picture, oi. I like the way you wrote the last two paragraphs for Chapter 8, haha. Enjoying this so far. Can’t wait for the battle with Falkner! |
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best laid plans Sometimes you think that you know someone, and then they go and surprise you with another twist in this big ol' board game called life. Sometimes, you don't think you know someone well, and they STILL surprise you with a twist. Really, you never know what people are gonna do. You can study human behavior, become one of those behavioral analyst guys, and still there's always gonna be someone who's gonna throw you that god damned curve ball. All this? Kind of includes yourself. Your own personality. You never know what you'll do in the spur of the moment. -:-:-:-:-:-:-:- Chapter 9: It's easier to fly with no broken wings Chris was quite interested at his predicament; it was almost amusing, in fact. He stood in a track right outside Violet General Hospital used for Physical Therapy (which Chris was starting soon), in a hospital gown pinched closed in the back by a pin, one arm hung in a sling. Across from him, the blue-eyed, blue-haired and blue-clothed man called Falkner stood in a ready position, Pokeball held firmly in hand. One of the gym trainers was holding Chris's. One in each hand, the identities of which had been identified to the gym trainer, but not to Falkner, as to not break any advantages normal trainers had. “So, let me get this straight one last time,” Falkner said. “You-” “...will not sue, just as long as you stop asking if I'll sue. One more time...” Chris sighed. The question had gotten rather annoying – he wondered if he SHOULD sue for mental distress upon being asked four million, six hundred ninety-five thousand, two hundred and thirty nine times if he was going to sue the gym. “Good,” Falkner continued. “Because-” *“The gym can't handle any money losses. Damn budget cuts. YES, I GET IT ALREADY!” Chris cried. “...Right. Well, ref,” he said, glancing toward the second gym trainer. “Start us off whenever!” The referee responded in his gruff voice, nodding, “Five... four...” Chris was nervous. This was his first major battle of the gym circuit – he had gotten to fight a major member of possibly Team Rocket, yet not even he had made Chris this anxious. He shut his eyes tight, hearing the countdown begin. “Three... two...” Chris prepared himself mentally. Gym Battling wasn't a sport for the weak-minded. It was for those who were sure of themselves, who knew that they could become champions. Too bad Chris didn't feel that way. “One... GO!” “Left!” Chris yelled. Two Pokeballs were thrown, each opening and throwing out flashes of white light. Out of Chris's, Bosca materialized, taking the closest thing to a battle-ready stance Chris imagined possible for her. Out of Falkner's, a magnificent brown bird appeared, flapping its wings, the feathery plumage adorned on its head like a headband twisting slightly in the breeze it was creating. It had a tan belly, which was rather defined and muscley for a Pokemon, giving Chris the idea that this thing was trained with insane amounts of skill. The thought made him shudder with anticipation. “Pidgeotto,” Falkner said. “My best Pokemon! For newbies like you anyway. I... actually don't recognize yours.” “She's called a Shroomish! From Hoenn,” Chris said proudly: or, at least, the most proud tone of voice his nervous mind could muster. “Named Bosca!” “I see... well, then! Let's start this off! Your move first, newbie!” “Bosca!” Chris exclaimed. “Use... uhm... ****, I don't know many of her moves...” Falkner slapped a palm against his face. Ten minutes later, Pidgebot Model III was in the air beside Chris. Turned out that the annoying little robot served a purpose after all; it served as a makeshift Pokedex, displaying “STAT”, a reading of the body's muscle and energy, giving off estimates of their ability; “HP”; a calculation of damage to the body, combined with “DEF” and “SP.DEF” on the “STAT” screen, displayed as a numeral reading, and “MOVeS”, which was... well, a display of the moves a Pokemon knew. Bosca knew a small variety, mostly status-inducers like Stun Spore and Headbutt (which sometimes winded the opponent, giving a short window of opportunity; Chris counted that as a “status” condition). Chris only saw one problem: how was he going to hit the Pidgeotto? It was a flying type, which made it easy for it to get into the air, while Bosca, with her short legs, could barely get four inches off the dirt. It was going to be a toughy, and Chris wasn't sure he could do it. But he WAS sure he wasn't going to pull back now. Suddenly, he was broken out of his train of thought by Falkner's voice, impatience evident in it. “Well, are you gonna make a move or what?” “Oh... uhm, Tackle, Bosca!” Bosca ran forward with the mightiest spring Chris had ever seen. She felt her trainer's anxiousness, he thought, and thought it was best to try her hardest. He let out a howl of encouragement, watching as she leaped into the air and slammed herself toward Pidgeotto's body: missing completely, skidding to the ground with a surprised cry. “Bosca! Crap, good try, gal!” “Bad choice of Pokemon,” Falkner mused. “Pidgeotto, use Dirty Gust!” Pidgeotto simply moved close to Bosca, flapping his wings furiously and creating a twister of wind, which picked up twigs and leaves on the ground, going so far as to pick up specks of dirt as well: then an entire chunk of the stuff, and before long, the force of the wind had degraded it into small pieces. It moved toward Bosca, who in-turn got to her feet and began to rush out of the way. The “Dirty Gust” attack followed. “Dirty Gust is my Pidgeotto's signature move! It's infused with some of his energy, and can be controlled by him at will! Until it hits something, it will not stop! And guess what? It hurts and can temporarily blind the opponent: it's a mix of the moves Gust and Mud Slap!” Falkner grinned from ear to ear. “You folk are purely secular! Worldly! The greatest gift God has given man is the sight of birds! I have made it my life's goal to show the world the GLORY OF WINGS!” Bosca got hit. She cried out in pain, chunks of mud flying into her eyes, pelting her skin. The wind picked her up and slammed her into a tree, and she fell down, her entire body shaking ever-so-slightly with the combination of heavy breathing and hurt. Chris scowled. He felt the mental pressure weigh down on him like an anvil on each individual shoulder. How the hell was he going to win this? -:-:-:-:-:-:-:- Joey Collins couldn't help but smile. So this would be the fix to his problem: it had just nodded its approval not even two or three seconds ago, its gruff visage plastered with a smile. One, it would kill time. He was waiting here in Azalea for Chris, and he had a feeling it would be a while before he got here. Two, well... with this newly built relationship, he hoped that he, Rats and Lucky could get the job done: the job being defeating him. -:-:-:-:-:-:-:- “Bosca! C'mere!” Chris yelled, motioning for Bosca to come close to him. She did, scrambling over. He saw the odd purple blood oozing from the scratches over her body. He did not touch her solely for this reason: he wanted to hug her close and not let go. With his one good arm, of course. “Listen, gal,” he said. “I understand if you want to give up. This is tough for a Grass-type like yourself, and I know that ghost-type moves don't affect normal Pokemon... like Pidgeotto.” Of course, he had only learned this recently when he did some research on Gastly and their natural abilities, as well as Typology. Hospital Libraries were one thing he was thankful for. “We can always come back when we have someone on our team who can handle-...” Bosca shook her body in a furious “no”. Chris smiled ever-so-slightly, and nodded to her. He whispered something down to her, before crying out, “Alright, then! TRY US, Falkner! Flyin' ain't anything – see how the ground fights against the sky, and be amazed! Bosca, Tackle Again!” Bosca ran toward the Pidgeotto with the same gusto as before, but stopped right in front of him. She stuck her tongue out, taunting him, hopping from foot to foot in a mock dance. Pidgeotto was not pleased by this – far from it. He whipped his wings, creating another gust (thankfully without the mud this time), sending it toward Bosca, who realized it wasn't a homing one like the previous and ran to get out of the way. “That's your glory, newbie?” Falkner scoffed. “Pidgeotto! Finish it off with an Aerial Ace!” It was a flash. A simple flash of movement was all it took to strike Bosca down, a small gash across her stomach, bleeding slowly. That purple, oozing blood. Chris let his head fall. His plan... ruined just like that. It was up to Ghos, and Ghos couldn't do a damn thing. “Return Bosca!” Chris yelled, and the supporting trainer obeyed. “Send out the other! Ghos!” Ghos was out in the next few seconds, floating up next to him. Chris sighed, stepping to the side slightly, a bit concerned about being close to that damned poisonous gas. The referee cried out, “Battle: Gastly versus Pidgeotto! Start NOW!” “Pidgeotto, use Dirty Gust!” Pidgeotto formed another miniature twister, mud picking up and combining with twigs and leaves, tinting it brown. It rushed forward. Ghos moved out of the way, but Pidgeotto twisted it in turn to Ghos' movement. Ghos moved again, leaving behind a thin trail of purple, but Pidgeotto twisted it once again. Ghos caught on quick, rushing right at Pidgeotto. Pidgeotto moved it to follow Ghos, and got caught right in his own attack as Ghos phased right through him and continued on. A howl of surprise escaped an open beak, mud flying into the bird's eyes, twigs and smaller chunks of dirt cutting and bruising through his feathers. Falkner cursed loudly, then covered his mouth, as if embarrassed by his mistake. Chris was happy to see some damage done to the opponent, but he knew Falkner or Pidgeotto wouldn't be stupid enough to try those tactics. They hadn't risen to the titles of Gym Leader and his Pokemon respectively off of sheer, dumb luck. He motioned for Ghos to come close, and with a begrudging look in her wide, white eyes she obeyed. “I need you to tell me what you can do, Ghos. This is desperate.” Ghos looked at him, her mouth open, canines brandished frighteningly. 'I can kill...' “Besides that! I mean to win me this battle legally!” Chris chided. 'Fine, fine... nothing that will effect that bird over there... well, there is...' There was something. Chris didn't care what it was. It could win this battle, and he could get Bosca's pain avenged. He smiled devilishly. “Use it, then!” 'Are you sure, because-' “Yes, I'm sure!” Chris cried. Ghos bobbed up and down mid-air, her form of a nod. She floated over in front of Pidgeotto, who had regained his wits by now. Ghos' wide eyes fell shut, and suddenly, Chris saw something that he wouldn't forget, not even years later. His eyes widened. Out of blue energy, a gigantic nail formed mid-air. Falkner looked at the same spot, but seemed unable to see it. Chris had a feeling that Ghos was allowing him to see this. The energy-nail pushed forward, running through the Pidgeotto's chest, and right through Ghos' forehead. The blood that ran from Pidgeotto's unharmed chest was the brightest shade of red Chris had ever seen: and the pained cry that came from Pidgeotto's beak was the most sincere he had ever heard. Falkner seemed shocked. “W-...what is this?! What happened?! Pidgeotto, are you okay?” Pidgeotto barely managed to stay afloat. Ghos bobbed slightly, a bloody, dark hole in her forehead, oozing red liquid alongside a steady flow of purple gas. 'It's called C-...curse,' Ghos projected, allowing Falkner to hear too, judging by the fact that he moved his eyes to her. 'Your bloody bird will faint soon. It's not going to kill, and it'll go away soon... but it's painful. Basically torture. Blame Cadet “HURRY UP AND USE IT!” over there.' Falkner projected to Chris one of the most hateful looks he had ever seen. He reached in his pocket and pulled something out, narrowing his eyes at it, then tossed it to Chris. Chris saw it fall to the ground a couple feet in front of him, but payed more attention to Falkner returning his Pidgeotto and bolting off. He assumed toward a Pokemon Center, where Pidgeotto could suffer in peace. The referee simply said, “Challenger Wins!”, before running off to join his leader. Only the one who held his two Pokeballs remained with him, walking to where whatever Falkner had thrown rested. He picked it up, walked over to Chris and handed him one of his Pokeballs. Chris tucked it under his arm. Then he took the other from him, returning Ghos. Finally, the Gym Trainer grabbed his hospital gown, almost purposefully tugging on it hard Chris realized, jiggling his arm around a little. He pinned something to it, then walked off. Chris looked at it. It was a small, light blue badge, shaped like a pair of wings. Chris sighed. He had won the badge. But at what cost? His reputation? His conscience? His virtues? In that moment, Christopher Avrich hated Ghos. Almost as much as he hated himself. |
Chris’ narration at the beginning I so have to agree. Sometimes I surprise myself by finding out more about me and I tend to do things spur of the moment.
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Man, I can’t help but laugh when that pidgey bot came helping out to show Bosca’s moves to Chris and also Falkner wanting to show everyone THE GLORY OF WINGS~. That SO should totally be a meme, haha. For Joey’s part, all I’m going to say is I’m now curious what’s he’s planning there… For the last leg of the battle, have to saw woah on Curse and I think everyone’s reaction to that is realistic. I too would feel awful earning the badge that way too if I were in Chris’ place. Overall, nice gym battle chapter there! Can’t wait to see the aftermath of that. |
I liked the way that you described attacks and stats in your fic. You took basic game mechanics and turned them into something more real.
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Oh, Falkner. Shame he couldn't share the GLORY OF WINGS with the world. That Curse attack... Ghos just keeps getting creepier by the chapter. Interesting to see how Chris will deal with the morals of winning a Gym battle the way Ghos did for him. Wonder what Joey got himself involved in. I have a guess what it might be. Have to wait and find out. |
And caught up again, whee.
TBH I can't wait until that assassin gets to taking on Chris - I rather like his psychopathic character and now really want to see what happens when they meet up. I'm also interested in seeing what Joey's gotten up to there... and the idea of him having a Pokemon that had just tried to kill him was fun to read as well. Especially one that seems to be so darn troublesome for him... one feels for Falkner's Pidgeotto what with Curse and all, although I suppose in future Falkner would have to consider his gym challenges better. =p (I also thought that Curse might have been used when it was mentioned Gastly didn't have any moves that'd hurt normal types, so yay for my guess!) I will admit that the first part of the scene in which Chris is trying not to get killed by the Gastly it was a bit confusing on what was happening as well, but as that was apparently the intention... =p And as Astinus said - yay Bosca. XD Quote:
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Anyways rather enjoying how this has gone...hopefully for Chris' sake he'll stop have all the bad luck ever. Keep it up! |
Author's Note: quick note. the chapter title here is a small section of lyrics, taken from the song "Learning to Fly" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.
b e s t l a i d p l a n s I have some simple advice for you guys today. No matter what, you can always face any adversity with the right attitude.I kind of wish I would have followed that. I didn't know the kid that well, but... he was a friend. One of the few my quirky personality ever really made.I miss him. I really do. ~ ~ ~ Chapter 10: Learning to Fly; and I ain't got wings... coming down is the hardest thing "Falkner, I said I'm sorry! I- I didn't know... Ghos..." "I know. I forgive you." Christopher Avrich heard the words come out in that harsh, unforgiving tone and he knew immediately they weren't true. He wanted to believe them, but he couldn't, not for the life of him. And Falkner wasn't helping, stomping away from him. Chris followed. They moved all the way to the gym in silence, before Falkner turned around and stared him in the eyes. He put his hands on his shoulders, and Chris flinched as he came down hard on his injured arm. This goddamn thing would never heal at this rate. "What's your name, newbie? I never got it." "Chris.. Chris Avrich," he responded. He somewhat wanted to shrink back, run away and go back to New Bark, living out the rest of his life in shame.... but he wasn't going to now. Just because he wanted to didn't mean he could. "C'mon inside, Chris." The two walked inside, and stopped in the shadowy spots of the gym. Falkner looked at Chris dead in the eyes again and spoke slowly, carefully, with just enough anger lingering in his calm voice that Chris shuddered. "Chris Avrich, what interests you about Pokemon Training?" Silence quivered through the air, as Chris thought about that question. He thought and thought, thought some more and then thought even more. He had never thought so hard in his life. But after all that thought, his mind came up blank. "Because it seemed interesting. Because I thought it would be fun." Falkner scoffed, shut his eyes and frowned. "Bland. Typical. I can feel it. It's deeper than that, and you know it." Cris cocked an eyebrow. He thought it was a satisfactory answer. He didn't even know the point of this questioning, because he had just come to make sure Falkner knew he was sorry for the pain he had caused his Pidgeotto. What was the point of it? "Because... I, uh, like Bosca, I guess. And it seemed a good way to bond." Falkner shook his head. "Then why not coordinate? Become a breeder? Just travel the land, or just stay at home?" Falkner opened his eyes and looked toward the platforms near the ceiling. "Anything can be done to bond with Pokemon. Fine. If that's your answer, I'm heading up. I don't care about your broken arm. If you want me to really believe your apology, and if you really want me to believe your reasoning, come up and find me at the end of the puzzle. no battles. Just you and Bosca traveling the gaps." Chris looked up and felt his heart beat faster than he felt comfortable. Was it really a good idea? He had screwed with this whole idea before. But to try it again? With a broken arm, at that? He could hurt himself severely, be in a hospital for quite a few more weeks.... and this wasn't even thinking about Bosca. He stepped back, looked at Falkner and let a shaky grin cross his lips. "Sure." ~ ~ ~ Joey Collins looked out onto the lake in front of him, seeing the shadow of the man behind him and finding himself wondering how much longer he had left. He knew from the look on the man's face that he had come to kill him: even his nine year old mind could decipher such enigmatic eyes with the help of adrenaline. "Hello, Joseph Collins." Cold metal was pressed against the back of his head. The force of the metallic shaft was soft- any steady pushes, and Joey would go off the bridge. So he did not intend to do it quite yet, Joey deduced."Hi. Who are you?" Joey asked slowly. He had once heard raw terror was paralyzing: he knew it now to be untrue. Perhaps it was for some individuals, but not for him. It motivated his mind to move, his muscles to think. He wanted to take action, but he knew it would kill him. "My name? David," the man said. "Hasselhoff?" Joey asked. "Ha!" From the reflection in the water, Joey could barely see the smile cross his lips. His breath was rotten. "Jokester, huh? I like that in a kid." "Bad breath like that can definitely give someone the motivation," Joey said. "How often you brush your teeth?" He heard a small click, and a push of air. His body went rigid for a moment, preparing for the impact of the bullet- but it never came. "I like games, Joseph. Do you?" Joey replied in a hushed whisper, "Not the type of games you're talking about." "Russian Roulette is pretty fun, in my opinon." A thin crackle, then another click and a pulse of air. No bullet in that chamber, Joey thought. "How about you play it yourself, instead of on me?" Joey asked. " But that would be nowhere near as fun," David replied. "What do you want?" "Christopher Avrich." Joey's heart skipped a beat. "Why are you here with me, then?" "Because Christopher Avrich is a klutz," David mused. "If I don't give him... a bit of motivation, he'll never stop injuring himself. And of course, injured prey doesn't give a man half the thrill." Click, click, poof. "What did Chris do?" "He decided to mess with the wrong person," David replied. "Adrian Russo, if you must be exact." "Maybe, just maybe, Adrian can take that debt himself," Joey whispered. Click, click- poof. "Adrian Russo is weak, but his connections are wonderful. So, guess what, Joseph Taylor Collins? Christopher Lawrence Avrich..." Click. "...will soon be a dead man." Click, BLAM. And with the loud sound of the gunshot, Joey Collins felt a large pulsation of panic and pain, before he felt no longer. David Miller took a short glance at the corpse falling into the water. The back of his head was blown wide open, brain matter splattered across David's red shirt. He offered the corpse a quick salute, before leaping into the water and swimming up beside it. He would bring it up onto shore with some degree of difficulty, then remove something from his soaked pocket. He placed the badge on the back of the boy's neon green shirt, then removed his own. He was somewhat glad Azalea Town laws permitted men walking around shirtless. He tossed the bloodied thing into the water, pocketed his silenced pistol and before he could be seen, walked off, whistling casually and wearing a devilish smile on his face. ~ ~ ~ Christopher Avrich felt an odd sense of sadness move through his body, but ignored it. He could not afford to be distracted right now, with Bosca hanging limply from his pants leg, teeth clenched in order to hold her position; his own hand held up on the final rail, supporting himself and Bosca's weight the best he could. Final rail, he thought to himself- he swung his legs forward, hoping Bosca could hold on, trying to gain momentum, and the plan worked. With one last grunt, he let himself go loose and land roughly on the last platform, tumbling down to the ground and onto his arm. He cried out in pain, and the disorienting sensation nearly blacked him out. But a hand on his good shoulder shook him out of this trancelike state, and he looked up to see it- a firm face, blue strands of hair hiding his eyes. He stood up, and Chris followed suite. He recgonized him vaguely as Falkner. "...I-...I made it," he muttered. "You did. I'm impressed. So, Mister Avrich, I have a proposition for you." "What would that be...?" "You have th e brave spirit of a Pidgeot, and the heart of a golden-feathered Fearow. You genuinely care for Pokemon, it seems," Falkner said. A smile crossed his lips. "Any old trainer would use the move and while probably feeling guilty, just go along their way. You came to apologize and make sure that I knew you were genuine. I now know you are." Chris allowed a weak smile tocross his lips, still dizzy from the pain of the fall. "Okay, but what does that have to do with a proposition?" "I'd like to try and help you become stronger. There were many flaws in your fight- many of which I think I can help you perfect. What do you say, Chris?" Chris thought about it for a moment, then let his grin grow wider. His neck moved- from side to side, disapproving. "...I gotta admit I'm kinda honored. Not every day a kid from a small town like me gets an offer like this, huh?" Chris laughed softly. "...But no thanks. Gettin' strong's my own goal- me, Bosca, and possibly even Ghos will do it together." Falkner stared at him for a little while. Chris supposed he had not expected the denial. Finally, Falkner opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a steady ringing. Chris let his good arm slip into his pocket to see a call from- Joey's number. Huh. "Sorry, Falkner, can I take this?" "...R-...right. Sure." Chris nodded and said his thanks before turning around and pressing his Pokegear to his ear."Hello?" It was a voice he didn't quite recognize. "Is this Christopher Lawrence Avrich?" "...Uh, yes," Chris responded. "Give me proof. Your mother's name and your home town." "...Who is this?" "Do it," the voice said. It was stern and forceful, slightly intimidating Chris. "...Elizabeth, and New Bark Town." A slight pause, and a soft laugh. It sent shivers down Chris's spine."Hello, Chris. Do you like games?" "...Who is this?" "I like games, Chris. I played one with your friend Joey," the voice said, sinister tones leaking from his voice. Chris's heart skipped a beat. "Oh? And... h-how did it go?" "He lost, I'm afraid to say. Russian Roulette is a rather... dangerous game, wouldn't you think?" Chris knew, then. He knew all too well what was going on, and anger quickly flowed through his mind. "Who are you?! What have you done with Joey?!" "Messing with Team Rocket doesn't tend to end well, Chris," the voice responded. "I never-...the boy! Why... why I oughta..." Adrenaline flowed through his veins like he had never felt it before. His anger could only rise to a certain point before it blew."The Azalea Town Police Department probably had a call recently, Christopher Avrich. It was a call reporting the body of a nine-year-old, his precious Rattata's Pokeball floating next to him. More than likely drowned. The boy..." A small pause, the sickening sound of the man's breath increasing in pace. "Well, the boy was shot in the back of the head. No DNA on the body, either. Pretty unsolvable case- but guess what, Chris?" Chris clenched his fist around his Pokegear, and heard a question come from Falkner- but it was all a blur to him. He did not respond to the man. "I can give you the culprit. It was me. Joseph Taylor Collins was murdered, not even an hour ago, by a sir David Miller, hired assassin of Team Rocket. You are to heal up, then come find me. If any mention of this goes out to the authorities, I will go after your mother, next. Understood, Chris?" "...**** you," Chris whispered. "Oh, but that will be hard for a dead man to do, won't it? I'll be waiting for you in Goldenrod City." click. Christopher Avrich threw his Pokegear down to the ground, hearing a small crack, but drowning it out in his own sad, angry scream. Bosca ran over to his side to see what was wrong, but he ignored her- and Falkner's worried tone was a monotonous, mechanical and nonsensical jumble of sounds. All Christopher Avrich knew was that Joey Collins was dead. A mother would be without her son, and the world without a precious life- and most of all, the most unbearable of all, he knew that it was all his fault. |
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