[Pokémon] He who is Merely a Rumour

Citrinin

Nephrotoxic.
    • 2,778
    Posts
    15
    Years
    Firstly, I would like to say that this is my first fanfiction, so it may be a bit shaky in parts, but please don't hesitate to point weaknesses out - I like to know where I went wrong. :) All feedback, positive or negative (although please be constructive) is welcome.

    Also, it's just occurred to me now (15 October) that I never gave this a rating, and was never pulled up on it. XD; It's suitable for ages thirteen and over for violence (of course, if you're older than that and are touchy around violence, then I wouldn't recommend reading further. Conversely, if you're under thirteen and aren't bothered by violence, happy reading. :D)

    ---

    Chapter List:
    Prologue

    PART I
    Chapter One: The Gate Opens
    Chapter Two: Tiny Knife
    Chapter Three: An Omen or Two
    Chapter Four: The Shadow Spreads
    Chapter Five: Forgotten Deeds
    Chapter Six: Two Penetrating Eyes
    Chapter Seven: Rex
    Chapter Eight: The Stench of Death
    Chapter Nine: Almost
    Chapter Ten: Burst of Light
    Chapter Eleven: The Bell Tolls for Us All

    Bridge: The Rise of Lord Augury

    PART II
    Chapter Twelve: The Awakening
    Chapter Thirteen: Cogs in the Machine
    Chapter Fourteen: The Throat is so Crucial, yet so Exposed
    Chapter Fifteen: To Dance with the Devil
    Chapter Sixteen: A Fear so Pervasive
    Chapter Seventeen: Two Sides to Every Story
    Chapter Eighteen: As Flimsy as Diamond
    Chapter Nineteen: Rising Cold
    Chapter Twenty: A Song of Solitude
    Chapter Twenty-One: If Only
    Chapter Twenty-Two: How Did We Get Here?
    Chapter Twenty-Three: Pulling the Pin
    Chapter Twenty-Four: Arc of the Grenade
    Chapter Twenty-Five: Impact

    Bridge: The Autocrat

    PART III
    Chapter Twenty-Six: Past and Future
    Chapter Twenty-Seven: Mystery, oh Sweet Mystery
    Chapter Twenty-Eight: Toward Twisted Ends
    Chapter Twenty-Nine: Walking Nightmare
    Chapter Thirty: Fireside Squabble (COMING SOON)

    ---

    PM List (VM/PM me or ask in this thread to be added)
    AllTimeLow1
    I'm Not Your Hero
    Sgt Shock
    Eliminator Jr.
    Kyuu-chan

    ---

    Prologue
    The tourists certainly weren't expecting to see a Pokémon come out of the ground. However, it was one of the last memories they would ever have.

    The sun struck the golden pavements of Spear Pillar. It was truly a site to behold. Ancient pillars, broken from thousands of years of existence marked the edges. The sky was beautifully clear. And, most notably of all, one could look down and gaze over all of Sinnoh.

    It all happened so fast. A large vortex opened up, colours of dark and light purple swallowing each other as it swirled around itself viciously. Out of the vortex emerged two Pokémon: one a large serpent, the other, a comparatively tiny, dark weasel. The large serpent panted with exhaustion: this was obviously the end of a battle, not a beginning.

    Following the two Pokémon was a strange looking man, with spiky, steel-blue hair and a silver jumpsuit. His face betrayed no emotion, and despite having come out of an otherworldly vortex, his walk was calm.

    For nearly one-hundred years, Cyrus had trained in the Distortion World. He had pit his Pokémon against one another, and they had become stronger than anything he'd ever seen. After all, time stood still in the Distortion World: Cyrus had entered at the biological age of twenty-seven, and had emerged at that age just the same.

    All the while, Giratina rested. Until today. When he rose from his slumber, sensing Cyrus in his world, he had tried to destroy him. This was proving far more difficult than he had originally anticipated.

    "Dark Pulse."

    Weavile shuddered, releasing a wave of blackness, moving rapidly through the air towards Giratina. In a puff of dark, otherworldly smoke, Giratina disappeared, avoiding the attack.

    Everything was quiet. The tourists stood in shock. Weavile was crouched, ready to pounce. Cyrus, wearing no emotion at all, simply stared ahead.

    Suddenly, the fabric of space and time split, and Giratina emerged, almost flying at Weavile.

    "Night Slash!"

    Weavile leapt forward, viciously swinging its powerful claws, all the while trying to land away from Giratina's attack. The claws struck Giratina, but the seemingly lethal attack didn't even cause the powerful creature to wince. It just continued its rampage, ramming the entire weight of his body into Weavile.

    The tiny creature, now under the weight of this giant, writhed in pain.

    "Dark Pulse!"

    Weavile tried, but it was too difficult to even breathe. It struggled hopelessly, beating its hands pathetically against Giratina's tail. The movements became weaker and weaker. Then they became sporadic. Soon, they stopped altogether.

    Giratina turned to Cyrus, who simply stood there. For once in his life, he was out of ideas. He was highly intelligent and resourceful – he had managed to bring forth Dialga and Palkia before – but he was caught completely off-guard when Giratina attacked him today. He had been in the wrong world for far too long. Even though he knew he was about to die, he felt no fear. He felt nothing.

    Suddenly, Giratina leapt towards Cyrus, striking him with his tail, throwing him over the side of Mt. Coronet. It was like a person casually tossing away a tissue.

    Suddenly, the earth began to shake. Giratina turned to the portal. Its eyes widened with horror, as it realised that the portal had been open for too long. The portal began to pulse, and Giratina leapt for it, in order to close it on time. But it was too late.

    The portal represented a bridge between the two worlds. Only in Turnback Cave could this bridge permanently exist. Upon Spear Pillar, the bridge becomes unstable.

    As Giratina leapt inside the portal to return to its own world, the portal released a burst of... something. There is no word in the English language to describe it. The concept was completely alien. Until now. It was not a force. It was not energy. It had no colour and no sound.

    As it traveled across the world, millions died. Entire environments seemed to be upturned. After the three seconds it took to cover the entire earth were over, Sinnoh was destroyed. Nothing was left as it was. Other regions were shaken as well, entire cities being removed from the map by this thing.

    From this day forward, it would be known only as "the Event". The three seconds that changed the world.

    As a result, all governments assumed emergency powers. It didn't seem unreasonable: after all, the world was facing the largest crisis ever. Never had the world been so close to apocalypse. Some even said that it was the apocalypse. And, after a decade, all regions had given up these emergency powers.

    All but one.


    *


    100 AE (After the Event)
    Torcra​


    "Miss Appleby."

    It was a small, dark room with a lamp barely managing the tied-up teenager to see her captor. All she knew was that he was a man, wearing some kind of dark cloak. His face was obscured by darkness, as was hers'.

    "Co-operate or die," threatened the Torcran officer simply. He had become so used to killing, so used to death, that he had become numbed to the idea of taking a life.

    "What the hell do you want?"

    "As you know, we kill most Pokémon trainers that we catch. Most."

    They sat there in silence, until the officer taunted, "Ask me what we do with the others."

    "What?" The question was spoken through gritted teeth.

    "We give them a second chance," he said, with mock lightness.

    The girl sat there in silence. In all her experience, the Torcran government, or the Oligarchy as it was known, never showed mercy to criminals. There was some kind of catch. There had to be.

    "And in exchange, you want...?"

    "Ah, so you're talking business now," said the agent, his tone lifting maliciously.

    "In exchange for your life, you will join us. Do you accept, trainer?" He then raised a gun to her head. "Or should I shoot you instead?"
     
    Last edited:
    Very nice prologue :)

    You have definitely set it up for a great potential of a story. I find it interesting that you started with Cyrus (who didn't anticipate that outcome), and now we are in the future, where we assume, he will no longer take a part of, as now in a new region, a dictator of sorts takes over.

    I bet you'll have lots of ideas running in your head about what to write next now ;)

    I didn't find many mistakes at all, only thing I saw so far, was that you said he had trained for 60 years first, than 35 in a paragraph below.

    Otherwise great job, and can't wait to read the next chapter, as I bet the readers will want to know more about the Oligarchy. ;)
     
    Thanks for the feedback, Feign. :)

    As for the 35/60 year difference, the 60 years was that he had "lived for over sixty years" (i.e. 27 [age according to Looker] + 35 years in distortion world). Do you think that should have been made more clear?
     
    Thank you for the compliment, Twilight Requiem. :D

    Feign said:
    Yeah the "and yet had lived for over sixty years" does make it sound like he lived there for a total of 60 years (perhaps others could help on that too). Which in a sense would make him 87(?).
    Click to expand...
    Do you think "and yet had lived in total for over sixty years" might make it more clear?
     
    Hmmm, this is what I'm considering changing the sentence to, but I first want to know whether it's effective:

    My internal musings said:
    After emerging from the Distortion World, he was biologically the same age as when he entered: twenty-seven. However, in and out of the Distortion World, he had lived for a total of sixty-two years.
    Click to expand...
     
    Last edited:
    According to Looker on Pokémon Platinum, Cyrus is twenty-seven. My own plot has him in the Distortion World for thirty-five years. Unless I'm missing something, this comes to a total of sixty-two.

    EDIT: OK, I'll remove it if it sounds confusing. ^^

    Thanks both of you for your help. :D
     
    Last edited:
    Heh. Giratina's survival or death is a plot detail that I'm not going to reveal just yet. ;) To answer Feign's musings, whether or not he is significant is not something I have even decided yet. :P But I am a big fan of closure, so I will reveal it sometime.
     
    Last edited:
    Chapter 1: The Gate Opens

    Chapter One: The Gate Opens
    Teartas City. It was a gloomy place in the region of Torcra: smoke twisted to the sky, people never smiled, and there seemed to be no colour – just concrete. The pair emerged from the car, the press bursting from casual chitchat to an excited race to the door.

    Two cloaked figures emerged from the ebony limousine – they were members of the Cloak, an elite secret police organisation. Their appearance, though expected, did send ripples of quietness throughout the chaotic group. Following these two guards were a man and a teenage boy.

    The man was Evan Emerit, an Oligarch, one of six. He wore a lavish black suit, his hair a greying blonde. He smiled confidently at the press, and, unlike so many of his smiles in the past, this was sincere. It was a genuinely happy day for him: the boy standing next to him was off to the Cloak Academy.

    His name was Bevan, and it was his sixteenth birthday: the age when one could legally receive a Pokémon in the region of Torcra. It was by far the most restrictive limit in the world, but, of course, "it was all for the protection of our children," as the Oligarchy's demagogues repeated. He had scruffy, light blonde hair, fiery blue eyes, and was a good six feet. He wore a black T-shirt with elaborate white patterns moving across it, and casual jeans. He was used to press attention, but didn't think much of it, except who the hell wastes their life following other people?

    Had he not been born into privilege, it was possible that Bevan would have been sent to a re-education camp, or even executed (despite the Oligarchy protecting its fifteen-year-olds from the danger of Pokémon, it was perfectly happy to execute them. Of course, only for the most serious of political crimes.) He was one of those people who never grew out of the "why?" stage as a child – Bevan was a stickler for finding out the reasons behind things and dispelling lies, never satisfied with a "that's the way it's always been."

    "My son Bevan is hoping to become one of the Cloaks," Evan smiled while he lied to the twenty or so microphones shoved in his face. In reality, Bevan's father had had enough of him, and had forced him into this path. "He will, of course, receive no special treatment. Like every other hopeful, he was flown here and, tomorrow when the gates of Route 616 open, he will have two weeks to reach the academy on foot."

    One reporter shoved a microphone into Evan's face. "Mr. Emerit, do you have any comment on the recent terrorist attacks?"

    "I am not here to talk about that; this is my son's special day," said Evan coolly, his smile breaking slightly.

    Bevan slouched, scratching his head, bored. He had always liked the appeal of catching and training Pokémon, like he had heard they do in other regions. He didn't know the details, and they were only rumours after all. But there was no way that the son of an Oligarch would ever be able to get away with being a private Pokémon trainer.

    Eventually, one brave reporter shoved a microphone behind the Oligarch to the boy. Startled by the fuzzy black ball, he withdrew his head slightly. "Bevan, are you excited?"

    "No comment."

    Despite this being the bane of a reporter's life, Bevan had unwittingly done this pushy reporter a favour – had he done anything to cast himself in a negative light, and it had been displayed, the reporter would have been punished. Not just by a revocation of license or fine, but by imprisonment. And Torcran prisons were infamous for their maltreatment of prisoners.

    *​
    The next day, the sun struggled to penetrate the thick barrier of clouds. It succeeded in a few places, but was mostly shut out by the industrial smog that hung depressingly over the city.

    "Well Bevan, the gates open in an hour," said Evan to his son across their expensive hotel room's dinner table. Evan, of course, was there free of charge, despite having vast sums of personal wealth.

    "Yeah," said Bevan impassively, while unconsciously stroking his pokéball. While it was true that Bevan would have to take the same route that everyone else did, his father had not been entirely truthful when he said that Bevan would receive no special treatment. Being the son of an Oligarch, the Pokémon that rested at his belt was in fact a Larvitar, a rare dinosaur-like Pokémon imported from Johto, a region on the other side of the world.

    Evan simply sighed, annoyed at the lack of enthusiasm from his son, looking down at the newspaper on his lap. At least that school will straighten him out, he thought to himself smugly. On one hand, he had a certain admiration for his son, and could see true potential in him. However, he couldn't find himself to love him, with his excessive questioning and disobedience.

    To an outsider, one would be horrified that a parent's love for their child was conditional to their obedience, but insubordination to a superior in Torcra was intolerable. Especially when the superior was an Oligarch.

    "Well then, Bevan, since it seems you're not going to touch your breakfast, you can get your ass to Route 616."

    "It'd be bad publicity, you know, if I went alone," Bevan said moodily, simply staring at his father.

    Evan smiled cruelly, a rare flash of honesty escaping his lips. "The press wouldn't dare report badly of my family affairs."

    Bevan scuffled to his room. Under other circumstances, Bevan would have pointed out the pushy reporter and his father would have screamed at being contradicted. However, his father used the word "family", a word used so rarely by either of them since five years ago. Bevan was only eleven when he heard his mother being dragged away…

    Blinking back the tears that the memory of her screams inevitably brought, he busied himself with packing. He didn't need to pack much – just the things he'd got out last night. When he did this, he swung the bag over his back, strode past his father, and continued down the stairs.

    "Bevan – wait."

    Naturally, it was his father, not wanting to take the chance of a bad headline, however slim. His father met him on the stairs. "I got you a present."

    Evan handed his son five Pokéballs, a luxury that almost no other trainer would have on their journey up Route 616. Bevan sighed, accepting the present – he'd never been one to turn down something based on principle. "We can never be OK, dad. No matter what you buy me."

    "What happened to you mother can happen to you, too," said his father ominously. Bevan opened his mouth to interject, but his father continued. "Not by my pen, no; I severely overestimated my own stomach in the incident with your mother, but when I'm gone, and there's no one to protect you, you'll annoy someone in the ranks. And knowing you, that someone will probably have the ability to issue all kinds of extrajudicial warrants." It wasn't in a gloating voice, but a soft, dark one.

    Grimly his son nodded, as if to say, "I know."

    Uneasy by the silence that had fallen over them, Evan quickly changed the subject. "Right, well, let's put on our public faces and get to Route 616. A new future awaits you, Bev - son."

    And so they walked together, their intimidating convoy of Cloaks pushing the reporters aside, and they stood with the many proud families at the gate of Route 616 its inviting trails gleaming beyond the titanium bars. Tears were shed, hugs were exchanged, and the feeling that characterised the atmosphere more than anything else was pride.

    Looking from afar, one character sat in a treetop, his appearance shrouded in the shadows of the leaves. Oh yes, he thought to himself. Who wouldn't be proud that their child was off to become an assassin, a torturer, and a spy for our beloved Oligarchy? I see you Emerit, down there. Your guard isn't very proficient.

    He looked down at the unconscious Cloak that was kept asleep, despite all this noise, by the Butterfree sleep powder that coursed through his blood. But no, Mr. Emerit, you're no use to me if you're dead. Ah! The gate opens, and your son struts from your protective grip. It won't just be the other Oligarchs that you need to protect him from now…

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Comments and/or constructive criticism will be deeply appreciated. :)
     
    Last edited:
    :O This is awesome, I mean like I want more now kind of awesome (though I know I want you to take your time to write on).

    That father of his, is quite scary in a way. He seems like the type to be 'your best friend or worst enemy' kind of guy, but even then he seems deceptive.

    I can't really tell if the son will end up becoming another student once past the inital test, or if he will rebel, and that treetop character adds another twist, will the treetop character only solidfy the son's willingness to train, or will he betray his father and join the man?

    Oooo good good XD

    Only mistake I found was:

    I severely overestimated my own stomach in the incident with your mother

    All I can say is that you've set it up for some extremely fascinating read, and cannot wait for more, but encourage you to take your time.
     
    Feign said:
    :O This is awesome, I mean like I want more now kind of awesome (though I know I want you to take your time to write on).
    Click to expand...
    I really appreciate comments like this. ^___^

    And thanks for pointing that typo out. :P One of the few that slipped under the radar, I guess. ^_^;
     
    For a first fic, this is excellent, right off the bat. Your grammar is great, and your narrator voice is confident and direct. Only a couple of things I saw didn't quite make sense-

    Looking from afar, one character sat in a treetop
    Click to expand...
    One character? We know they're a character, but do you need to state this explicitly? You're bending the fourth wall.
    "Not by my pen, no; I severely overestimated my own stomach in the incident with your mother, but when I'm gone, and there's no one to protect you, you'll annoy someone in the ranks. And knowing you, that someone will probably have the ability to issue all kinds of extrajudicial warrants." It wasn't in a gloating voice, but a soft, dark one.
    Click to expand...
    I think 'by' should be 'my' here, even though I don't quite understand the expression. And you missed a quotation mark - I plopped it in there for you. ^_^

    As for your plot, I like it. The Cyrus-bypassing-time thing is cool. Just one problem. There aren't any Pokemon in the Torn World to train against. Have you played Platinum? You just wander around, walk on walls, take rocky lifts and roll boulders into holes. It sucks. But anyway, yeah. Cyrus getting owned by Giratina is automatically cool. Readers like to see bad guys getting their comeuppance. I also like your description of the wave of energy; how it had "no colour (yay for NZ spelling!), no feeling, no sound." It's a good way to get the magnitude of the event across. AND THE DESTRUCTION! I likes me some accidental genocide, but that's not the point. The point is it's always good to see somebody unafraid to take risks and make Pokemon a little darker. Which leads me to Chapter 1.

    The idea of the Oligarchy has, admittedly, been done before under many different names, but I think you can pull it off. Bevan and his father have a nice dynamic going on so far, and I'd LOVE to see where that goes. The mysterious figure in the tree also adds to the whole gloomy air. Again, you're taking it that extra mile, and kickin' it.

    So well done, my countryman, and I'll be following this story as sure as my name's . . . well, I can't tell you that, but you get the point! Be safe, think positive, and don't eat yellow snow!

    EDIT: Ninja'd. Feign got the typo.
     
    You must log in or register to reply here.
    Back
    Top