Chance (Short Story)
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January 29th, 2007 (2:50 PM).
The Game is Afoot!
In a House
Alright, just a few things before I dissolve into tears. (Again... I'm not supposed to get moved to tears! That doesn't happen to tough guys! *sob, sob* Maybe I should have joined the body scouts instead of taking acting lessons... *sob*)
As to what Cal ran into.. you'll just have to stop and wait and see. And on an off note I always find it amusing when people always refer to Cal as a he -- every single time -- even though I've purposely kept Cal's gender ambiguous. So he could be a she for all you know. >.> But it's technically up to you.
Hmm... you know, Cal just doesn't strike me as being a girl. Growlithe seem to be more male by nature then female if you know what I mean, and Cal isn't doing anything that particularly makes anyone think of him/her as a female, so that may be the reason. Yeah. I have an even better reason to think of Cal as a guy, though- remember my review of "The Ties that Bind"? How I mentioned my dog dying? (God rest his soul, if he has one.) Well, Cal is basically a smarter version of what he was like as a young dog. I remember him so well... *sob* at least Cal lives...
This left you to conclude two things:
1: You were a complete, total idiot. You deserve a medal for it. Chance deserves about five.
2: You are never going to so much as drink any bottled substance ever again.
Yeah, well, he did drink it. I think you were going for something along the lines of "You are never going to so much as sniff any bottled substance ever again". But still, in a very sad chapter, this is one moment I did laugh at.
The many flights of stairs you are forced to go up are long and hard; they seem to stretch to forever. Each floor yields a new level, untouched and unblemished. You can no longer ignore your growing unease and agitation. The fact that running up stairs is tiring doesn’t help your predicament at all, and oftentimes
you find daydreaming. Heh. Perhaps a bit of alcohol is still in you blood, you don’t know.
I think you meant "You find yourself"... but you could be finding a daydream in midair. (Just kidding, XD)
Go home. Go home and dream your silly dreams, you say, snarling with a biting steel edge, because this is real. This isn’t a game you can just get up from if you mess up.
Why do you switch back and forth between italics and normal quotation marks for Pokemon speech? Just curious. But enough with my nit-pickiness. On to the favorite parts!
Morana had, apparently, told her every single painstaking detail. She left nothing out. You think deep down Riley found a lot of it funny. She didn't appear angry in the least, when she told you Morana’s tale, shaking her head in a bemused fashion – especially at the part when you apparently ran face-first into a stop sign and knocked yourself out. According to the words of Morana, you did yourself a favor.
However, Riley then did something she had never done before: she departed for work. Without you.
That hurt more than any stop sign ever could.
Morana is one hilarious Sneasel. This section, by the way, makes me want to scream "RILEY! NUUU! DON'T LEAVE, THEY'LL MURDER YOU!"
You can tell she’s still angry her fists quivering, while her left, blood-red eye is completely constricted. Morana turns around, obviously in a very sour mood. “Oh, you mean this?” She lifts up her right claw, of which holds a pair of sunglasses – make that one shattered pair of sunglasses. “A human stepped on them and broke ‘em.” She jerks a claw to the pile of lifeless plumage. “He thought it was funny.”
“That’s not what I mea –”
“Your eye!” Chance yowls, going slightly pale. “It’s gone!”
“And you only have half a brain, so what?” the Sneasel growls. “Doesn’t freakin’ matter. I can still fight perfectly well with one eye.”
It may have surprised Chance, but it doesn’t surprise you. It’s common knowledge that Morana is a one-eyed Sneasel who lost her eye in a battle with a human. “It’s not new, Chance,” you decide to tell him. He visibly relaxes. “She lost it to a human awhile ago.“
“Now listen here, Watchdog,” Morana snarls, unamused, “I may have lost an eye, but that human lost his freakin’ head. I lose to no one, got it?”
You shrug. That seems to pacify the dark-type, who folds her arms, clutching her ruined lenses protectively. “What’s really going on?” you say again. “ In the building, I mean.”
“Oh…that…” Morana shrugs. “Nothin’ much. We’re mainly dealing with a few traitorous rats.”
“Rats?!” Chance exclaims.
“We think that the culprits are some employees here,” Morana explains, sounding bored. “Tryin’ to destroy everything really. The elevators are out, and some of the rooms are on fire in the higher levels. We think there are a few humans behind it… hard to tell who is and who ain’t though. They’re all wearing normal clothes like regular workers, see? So I can’t rightly go an’ kill all of them.
“We think we know who a few of ‘em are though. Their freakin’ leader has a Houndoom wandering about some place, too.” She grimaces. “He got away from us, but he’s here, watching, I know he is. We’ve been trackin’ him for a while now, and he likes to attack outta nowhere and disappear again, so I dunno when he’ll turn up next. We may not’ve got him, but I think we’ve managed to capture the ringleader of this whole thing. ‘aven’t seen him myself, but that’s what I’ve heard. Heard he’s a bit of a wimp, too. Strange for a leader-type. All brains and no brawn. ”
You nod. With a sudden leaden feeling, you realize you’re wasting time talking here. Riley’s not here. You shouldn’t be having a chat with anyone. Your eyes dart towards the next staircase.
“You lookin’ for Riley, right?”
“Yeah!” Chance grins broadly. “Do you know where she is? We’re looking for her.”
“She’s was on the twentieth floor when I last saw her. Fightin’ some idiots with a couple buddies of hers. It was quite a big fight, too. Pokémon and humans everywhere.”
That’s all the information you need. You bolt towards the staircase, running up it without hesitation, Chance not far behind.
Morana’s voice echoes up the stairwell as you leave. “Hey, Watchdog, keep a look out for the human body on the nineteenth floor. It can’t bite you or anything, as I’m pretty sure ‘e’s dead. I just wouldn’t want you to trip over him or nothin’.”
This gives you a great idea of what Morana is like- and a great reason to avoid sarcastic Sneasel like the black plague. 0_o
Your smile doesn’t fade for those long five seconds – those five seconds that will be forever imprinted in your mind as long as you exist to remember.
The next five seconds are akin to a far away dream. Agonizing and slow, they stretch longer than they should, and that one moment in those seconds that should have stretched on forever, didn’t.
The man had a gun.
You couldn’t stop him as he pulled it from his pocket. You couldn’t stop him as he aimed the gun at the only human you ever truly came to care about. The shock and surprise in her eyes at that single moment was enough to send chills down your spine and into your bones until they felt hollow. She jerked to the side; a vain attempt to dodge.
(She was never one to give up. She had looked death in the face many, many times and survived. But…never this close.)
And to think…
His finger began to put pressure on the trigger, the panic in his eyes fueling that pressure, hands shaking. Then, out of the death-device of man, came a roar as barrel gave life to bullet. Once, twice.
…there was nothing you could do.
She didn’t cry out in pain like most humans would have, when bullet meets flesh. No, that was not her way. She was tough about it – the tough-as-nails way that you always remember her doing things. Nothing that could plausibly happen to her could ever faze or waver that odd, dignified will. Hawk-like, if you would.
Hurt someone she loved, though, then it was different. Hurt someone she cared about and you could be sure she’d never stop hunting you. She would follow you everywhere; there was no escaping it. Death would not stop her, she’d track you down with a vengeance, and when she’d finally find you months, years, days later, the talons would dig deep, never to release their hold.
But this was not about anyone else, this was about her.
When she was hit, once in the chest and once in the side, her eyes didn’t promise eternal revenge like others would have. She did live everyday knowing that, perhaps, she would meet the final darkness that would take her away. You guess she accepted that. You could understand, you did too.
But you were here; you were watching her fall, blood soaking her uniform in which she prized. Deep blue to crimson red. It did not fit her. You did not like it – it didn’t feel right.
Shock overtook your body as you watched her collapse, dreamlike, onto the pristine white floor. You could do little but watch, eyes widening in horror and dread. You forgot to breathe for a few moments.
Partners weren’t supposed to watch the other die.
No. Partners weren’t supposed to let each other die.
Not to be touchy, but is "Loyalty" the ONLY fic you've ever written where nobody dies? Still, this is a very sad segment, and I am only sorry that this wasn't ever archived. If you had posted this part here, it definitely would have made Fanfic of the week, at least.
Joined Oct 2006
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