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[PKMN FULL] The Darkest Timeline

Gandhi Savage

[FONT=Maven Pro][COLOR=#00AAFF]OJAMA DELTA HURRICA
  • 699
    Posts
    13
    Years


    POKÉMON: The Darkest Timeline
    [PokeCommunity.com] The Darkest Timeline

    "Even though I walk through the valley of the
    shadow of death, I will fear no evil"
    ~Psalm 23:4


    *bulbagarden.net image removed*Information*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    HEY guys, it's been way too long since I've been active here and I thought why not get involved by making an RP of my own? This has been inspired by an RP I took part in during the Summer of 2012, by {Swan}. It was the most enjoyable and innovative Pokémon RP I was privileged to be a part of. I also want to say a huge thanks to The Last Sentinel for the template (*cough* and understanding how amazing Sylar is *cough*)! I will not be participating myself and will be acting as Game Master. The OOC/SU thread should be linked HERE when both threads are released. Rated T for teens as there will be violence throughout.


    *bulbagarden.net image removed*PLOT*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    IT has been 20 years since the events of X/Y have taken place. A group of vile people, known as Team Amethyst, have attempted to capture Rayquaza in the Hoenn region. They were foiled by Landon, the Hoenn Champion and several other trainers. Several years later there was a major disaster in the Kalos region. Yveltal was reborn and the entire city of Lumiose was obliterated, sending shockwaves throughout the Pokémon world. People were afraid, Elite 4 members and Champions had secret meetings to discuss the tragedy. At first Team Plasma were the ones charged for the vile act, however not long after the real culprits came to light.

    Team Amethyst, lead by Amara, emerged from the shadows and demanded the attention of the entire globe. In another show of power, Amara had Yveltal destroy Mt. Silver, making transportation between Kanto and Johto near impossible as Tohjo Falls were irreparably damaged. The world had nothing to do but bow down to their new Queen. Unova, being the most powerful region negotiated a treaty with Amara. They had a deal that they would not obstruct each other. However, the other regions fell victim to Amara's tyrannical side and within a few months she had everyone bowing down to her. You either worshipped her, or were locked up, or even killed. In this new world weapons, such as guns, are as commonplace as Pokémon.

    In recent times, Archie of Team Aqua, has begun to construct a rebellion. With Giovanni and Maxie assassinated early in Amethyst's dominance, and Lysandre accepting Amara as his leader all seemed lost. However the former Aqua boss concealed himself and managed to survive, long since changing his ways he set out to save the world he so nearly destroyed a long time ago. Along with Shelly, his wife, Archie created A.A.V. or the Aqua Assault Vest, he was insuring he saved the world, or die trying. His location is unknown, however the main base for the A.A.V. is situated where the Safari Zone, located on the west of Cianwood island.



    *bulbagarden.net image removed*RULES*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    PRETTY basic but still read to make sure!
    Spoiler:




     
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    CHAPTER ONE: Trials
    "I survived because the fire within me
    burned brighter than the fire around me"
    ~Joshua Graham


    *bulbagarden.net image removed*Brandon Carroway*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    Spoiler:


    *bulbagarden.net image removed*Cressida Chase*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    Spoiler:


    *bulbagarden.net image removed*Dennis Coleman*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    Spoiler:


    *bulbagarden.net image removed*Richard Foile*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    Spoiler:





     
    Cressida Chase
    [PokeCommunity.com] The Darkest Timeline
    [PokeCommunity.com] The Darkest Timeline


    Cressida gripped her flashlight in one hand and the cold metal of her gun in the other as she made her way toward the exit of the Ice Path, her vision trained on the ground to avoid patches of ice. Only one of her Pokémon -- her Galvantula -- was out, sticking close to her side. After the disaster that was an attempt to stop a small threat, finding an escape seemed the best course of action, and she had separated herself from her allies to do so alone.

    Her breath turned into mist as she continued through the cave, her Pokémon scuttling along to her left. The exit of the tunnel was in sight and the daylight lit up her surroundings, prompting her to put away the flashlight. Then, the silhouette of a man appeared in front of her. She could tell who it was straight away. Once a famous Gym Leader, now a rebel leader, and standing right in front of her, all alone. Something felt awfully wrong about the situation, like she was walking straight into a trap, but this was as good a shot as any.

    Suddenly a device buzzed in her pocket, alerting her of a new message.
    Amara wants to see you. The chopper's on its way.​
    Glancing at the message, then the obstacle between her and the exit, she typed a quick reply:
    I'm hung up on something. How urgent?​
    ...Before returning to the task at hand.

    "Pryce," she said, raising her pistol to point at his head. "I shouldn't have to say what I want from you." She looked toward her Pokémon. "Galvantula, tie him up."

    With a quick "Gal!" he shot a web at the former Gym Leader.
     
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    Richard Foile
    Chapter 1: Trials


    Richard's day had taken a distinctly bad turn.
    He didn't often get to ride in a helicopter, but he always found it immensely enjoyable. Being shot down over an unfamiliar city, however, tended to make the situation ever so slightly horrific. To make matters worse ,his left arm had a delightful shocking pain running through it every couple of seconds. Having surveyed the situation, and deciding that being captured and tortured by Team Amethyst wasn't his idea of a fun post-helicopter ride activity, he abandoned his supplies beyond his Pokemon and, keeping low and out of sight, began to head in the general direction of Olivine.
    The first sight he was met with was a bar, "The Rusty Steelix". Slightly perturbed by the name and somewhat rundown nature of the establishment, he briefly considered searching the city for a better place to make his plan of attack, but he recognised that time was of the essence. He didn't know if he had been detected by Team Amethyst during his escape from the crash, and a slightly seedy place was probably the best way for a refugee to lie low. He quickly elected to muddy his face with some dirt from the ground, and to mess up his hair slightly - he was going to stick out no matter what he did right now; he might as well try to hide in plain sight by acting like a beggar.
    Deliberately putting on a drunken, rolling gait as he stumbled into the bar, Richard was met with stares from a few vaguely bemused patrons. It wasn't actually as rundown as he thought it would be, although it certainly wasn't a place anyone with a sense of smell would enjoy eating. Fortunately, that meant he almost - almost - fit in. He walked over to the bar, maintaining his homeless persona, and sat down heavily on a stool. Before the barman served him, he decided on his main priorities. He didn't know whether or not the resistance was aware of his predicament, so he couldn't count on assistance from the A.A.V. - at least, not until he could let them know he was alive. He had to find a way to communicate with them. In order to do that, he'd have to find a way too get out of his military gear and into something that let him blend in to vaguely respectable society. The bartender was walking over, and looked at his new patron with a mixture of suspicion and distaste. He was a stout man, with balding brown hair, drooping jowls, and pig-like eyes. 'You want to tell me why you're wearing that rebel trash?' He spat.
    'Needed new clothes,' Richard shrugged nonchalantly. 'Found these on some poor sod in the forest who ain't gonna need 'em anymore, looked like he'd been got by som'un fierce.' If the crash was common knowledge, he'd need a plausible reason to be wearing the tattered resistance gear. The bartender seemed to buy his story, his expression relaxing slightly. 'Dangerous idea, letting yourself getting mixed up with that lot. Not well-liked around here, you see. What on earth made you want to scavenge that?'
    'E'r since that thing that happened to Lumiose, the freighting business I worked for went bust and I been out of a job. Managed to scrounge enough money to stick around in . Need a job, need money.'
    The bartender looked genuinely sympathetic, but not surprised. Richard clearly wasn't the first person to come down on hard times since Team Amethyst took over, which would easily work in his favour. 'Yeah, not the only one suffering from that, er, accident.' The bartender looked around furtively. 'Tell you what, I've got some jobs that need doing, and you look like the type who could do them. Nothing pleasant, I'll tell you now, but if you do them you can spend the night in the cellar and I'll get you some of my old clothes. You'll just get in trouble wearing that, whatever your reasons, especially with the border controls around the town.'
    Richard knew an opportunity when he saw one. A degrading and probably hideously exploitative opportunity, but one nonetheless. 'Oh aye? What you need doing?'
    'One of the regulars in my bar hasn't paid his tab in a while, and I think he needs, ah, reminding that I'm not a patient man,' The bartender sniffed. 'He's not the friendliest of people, though, and I'm not much of a roug . You look like you might be able to handle yourself, though. Up for it?'
    It wasn't ideal, but Richard didn't have much of a choice - and it'd be out of character for him to refuse an offer of any work. He nodded gruffly, and the bartender pointed out the financially reticent patron. He definitely didn't look friendly, just under Richard's height, but a lot bulkier. Wearing a leather jacket and hunched over a drink, Richard sized him up and thought he had a reasonable chance in a fight, if it came to that, and as a last resort he could always get his Pokemon out - there would be a possibility of that raising more questions than strictly necessary, but he needed a place to stay and a change of clothes. He rose from his seat, straightened, and strode over to the individual in question. He sat down opposite him and fixd him with a steely glare. The stranger glared right back at him. 'You looking for something?' He growled.
    Richard continued to glare at him. 'You owe the bar some money, friend. Time to pay up.'
    The stranger laughed a grating, unpleasant laugh. 'I'll pay when I'm good and ready, "friend"! Get out of my face before you get yourself hurt.' Richard lunged over the table and grabbed the man by the collar of his jacket, causing him to yelp in surprise as their faces were suddenly centimetres apart. Richard's arm was suddenly shot with pain again, causing him to snarl unintentionally. 'I won't be asking you nicely again. I need a place to stay. I need some money. You have no idea how far I'll go if you mess me about. You understand?' Richard could see the man's eyes flickering with thought. He almost considered starting a fight, but at the last moment realised that this intense, strange young man would probably be dangerous. He was right. Wordlessly, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet, emptying out several hundred Pokedollars. 'That's more than you need, okay? Just, just let me go. Don't need to start nothing.' Richard took the money without another word and nodded at the stranger. He didn't look back as he walked over to the bar, with his new employer greedily eyeing the money Richard had extorted out of the patron - or at least, the money he hadn't pocketed for himself. 'You, my friend, are a good guy to have around. Get yourself washed up in the toilet, then I'll show you to where you can stay.' Richard took his time washing the dirt and dust off his face in a dingy sink, before realising that his arm hurt worse than ever. When he emerged, the bartender unlocked a trapdoor to the cellar and showed him to a rough camp-bed and an old, but well-looked after sleeping bag. The grey cellar itself was Spartan, with a few bottles of wine taking up residence in largely sparse wineracks. 'Look, I know it's not much, but this'll be enough for now, I hope.'
    Richard nodded. It was better than he could ever have expected for his first night, in a new town, with no money or contacts. 'You know, I might need a bouncer over the next couple of nights, and you look like you can handle yourself. I can put you up down here with some food, if you're willing to work?'
    'Will I get paid? Need some money if I'm going to start getting things back together.' He wasn't really lying.
    'Fair. I'll give you a decent pay for every night you stop people making a mess in my bar. Oh, are those... You have Pokemon?' The bartender eyed Richard's Pokeballs with interest.
    'Oh, yeah, they can look after themselves though. They won't cause any trouble, I assure you.'
    'Sure, sure, I mean, they could be useful. Just didn't think you'd be the sort to have Pokemon.'
    'What, don't I look like a Pokemon type?' Richard grinned. The bartender roared with laughter at Richard's admittedly terrible pun, laughing probably slightly longer than he should have done. 'You're alright, my friend. Pull your weight, keep your Pokemon in line, and you can stay here long as you need to. Now, I'll go grab you some clothes. They're a bit small for me, given this lump,' he said, patting his impressive paunch for emphasis, 'but they should fit you just fine.' After the bartender dropped off a selection of clothes, he left Richard to his own devices.
    Richard guessed the time was just before midnight, so he stripped down to his underwear, hiding his resistance clothes under the campbed and choosing some plain jeans and a t-shirt to wear tomorrow, and settled onto the campbed, letting his Pokemon out of their balls for the night. Wellington and Nocturnal surveyed their temporary residence with interest. Wellington then began sharpening his blades against each other before practicing battle maneuvers in a corner, whilst Nocturnal began singing a cheerful, relaxed song. Sentinel, as ever, seemed utterly disinterested in the cellar. Richard smiled, glad that despite all he had been through, he had his eclectic party of Pokemon to keep him company. Sentinel scuttled over the bed and settled down next to his trainer, promptly falling asleep with a contented hiss. Richard began thinking ahead. This cellar would make an excellent base of operations for him to plan his next move; secure, well-hidden, and in an emergency, easily defensible. But he couldn't stay there forever, even though he was reasonably sure no-one knew who he was or why he was there. He would need to find a way to communicate with the A.A.V. to get new orders, and then probably come up with a strategy for getting out of Olivine. Nonetheless, he'd salvaged what he could from a very dangerous situation, and he was optimistic that he'd find a way to survive in Olivine, for a while at least. He had no idea what the next few days would bring, but he was too exhausted to be worried for long.
     
    @Iggy: Really sweet post, nice to see Pryce make an appearance so early. However try not to rush it or you'll have next to nothing to do before I get the next chapter up. Looking forward to the epic confrontation between Cress and Pryce, when all said and done it'd be cool to see a flashback to the original ambush, perhaps on the chopper back to HQ? Just some musings don't feel like you need to take them onboard.

    @Asariond: Don't ask me why but I LOVE the name "The Rusty Steelix" for the bar, maybe it's just the slight detail of naming it but I love it. Thinking on your feet and making him purposely look like a beggar wass GENIUS my lord! I just love the way you make your character talk and interact with people, I'm unsure if that's his usual accent or one he's just putting on for the moment but I love it. THE PUN ON BEING A POKEMON TYPE EVEN GOT ME TO CHUCKLE! I love that you've got your character covered for a little while, can't wait to see the happenings at the bar over his stay! A lot of progress made in the post and that's good, just wanna warn you against rushing through the chapter as it may take a nother 5-or-so days for me to get up the next chapter. Brilliant post, thoroughly enjoyed reading it.
     
    Dennis Coleman

    Dennis should feel honored (no, privileged), to be riding in a helicopter. As one of only two aircraft in the A.A.V.'s possession, they don't let just anyone ride in it. He should feel honored, but he just feels sick. They have to fly high to avoid notice, and the wind is much stronger at this altitude, making for a bumpy ride. But he doesn't complain, partly since there's nothing they can do about it, but mostly since the pilot wouldn't be able to hear him anyway.

    Finally, they reach their destination: the Ilex Forest. There's a small clearing down below, the former site of a shrine dedicated to the guardian of the forest, but now the site of a statue honoring Amara. Dennis has half a mind to let Scrapper knock the statue down, just to insult Amara. It would be cathartic, but ultimately a waste of time. According to his mission briefing, he would be parachuting down into the clearing to meet up with his new squad, there to bolster the Azalea branch. It seems a little melodramatic, parachuting in like that, but it would be much faster than walking, that's for sure.

    But he has spent enough time on this bird, and melodramatic or not, he has a job to do. He straps on his parachute, makes sure his sidearm and Pokeballs are secure, and gives the pilot a thumbs-up before leaping out of the heli. The pilot wastes no time in returning to base, and Dennis plummets toward the ground in a freefall. (The chorus of Tom Petty's "Free Fallin'" pops into his head.) He pulls the cord, deploying his chute and slowing his fall to a much safer speed.

    Then a sudden gust catches him and blows him off course, sending him right into a tree.

    Battered, slightly bruised, and his parachute hopelessly tangled in the branches, Dennis dangles from the branches as birds and bugs scatter from the impact. He curses his luck, trying to free himself from his chute, but the harness is stuck. "Must've damaged it in the crash... How am I gonna get down from here?" He looks around, trying to formulate a plan. There aren't any branches directly below him, but there are some nearby, if he can just get some momentum...

    ☆☆Ten Seconds Later☆☆

    "Okay, ready? Here I come!" Dennis kicks off the trunk, swinging his legs to build momentum. After a few seconds, he is closer to another branch, where Doctor waits. "Catch me!" Doctor reaches out with one talon, grabbing Dennis' harness. He grips his perch with the other talon, his wings spread wide for balance. "Now!"

    Behind him, Razer slices through the paracord, leaving Dennis at the mercy of gravity. His earlier momentum, plus Doctor's grip, pull him toward another branch below, where Scrapper waits to catch him. Dennis lands on the Lairon's back, waving his arms wildly as he struggles for balance, before leaping forward and wrapping his arms around the trunk. He takes a moment to catch his breath, now safely standing on a branch. "Nice work, team! Now let's get out of this tree." He returns his Pokemon, climbing down from the accursed tree.

    It takes a few minutes, but he finally reaches the clearing. The sight that awaits him is not at all what he expected, and is not at all pretty. The air smells of blood and gunpowder, with seven dead bodies scattered throughout the clearing. He's no doctor, but he thinks the lucky ones died immediately. The rest died slowly, bleeding out on the hard ground. They're all wearing uniforms similar to his, so either they didn't inflict any casualties of their own, or their attackers took their wounded with them when they left. (Assuming they did leave, that is.) With that in mind, Dennis' paranoia kicks into high gear. He knows the best course of action is to leave. Immediately. But the smart thing to do would be to recover whatever equipment he can.

    Scavenging wins out over fleeing, and he sets out to loot his comrades' bodies. As expected, he recovers ammo and Pokeballs, along with a new switchblade knife. He collects the ID tags, to give due to the dead, but pauses when he reaches the sergeant. In addition to his tags, the man also wears a wooden locket of some kind.

    Curious, Dennis inspects the locket after removing it. It's a simple oval, but upon fiddling with it, it twists and rotates to form a heart, which then opens, revealing a picture of a woman. She's very pretty, with short black hair and a dazzling smile. He puts the picture away, tucking the puzzle box locket into his breast pocket.

    And just in time, too. While he had been distracted by the puzzle and the picture inside, someone had decided to come back. He hears rustling leaves nearby, and the sound of rough laughter. Not willing to risk capture or worse, Dennis dives for cover in a nearby bush, leaving the clearing behind. He'll have to take the long way to Azalea...
     
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    @Godzil: Really great opening post! Especially loved the humour of Dennis trying to get down from the tree. Keep up the excellent work. One critique I'd have is maybe changing the font colour as it's a little tough for me to read.
     
    Dennis Coleman

    With the clearing a safe distance behind him, Dennis does what he should have done after first finding his squad: call for help. "This is Lantern calling Base, come in Base, over." No reply, not even static, comes over the radio. "Base, this is Lantern, I need help, do you copy, over."

    He isn't sure what frequency the Azalea branch uses, as that info was supposed to be covered when he joined up with his squad. "This is Lantern, does anyone copy, over!" With still no reply, he lets out a breath in frustration, clipping the radio to his belt. "Must be out of range. Let's hope no one else is around..." He picks his way through the underbrush, trying to get back to a marked trail. He doesn't like to admit it, but he gets lost easily, and he'd rather not spend more time in this forest than he has to.

    ☆☆Ten minutes later☆☆

    Dennis finally finds a path, following it until he spots a fork in the road ahead. He can see two people up ahead, Amethyst grunts by their uniforms, arguing next to a sign. The sign ostensibly points to Azalea Town, but the arrow is on a separate sign, which has been removed. The grunts are apparently arguing over which road the arrow is supposed to point down, with no sign of the vandal responsible for their dilemma. Although Dennis himself is in the same situation, he can't exactly just ask the enemy for help.

    No, this situation requires a much darker solution...

    Creeping through the cover of darkness provided by the trees, Dennis approaches his unsuspecting adversaries. He holds his pistol in his right hand, trained on the right grunt. He grips a Pokeball in his left hand, held near his face, ready to be thrown. He's able to get close, close enough that he'd have a hard time missing even if he didn't practice his marksmanship for an hour each day. But he does practice, and his skill with a pistol is considerable. The goons will never know what hit them.

    He takes time to line up his shot, waiting until the grunt stops moving. But his window of opportunity rapidly starts closing when the grunt grabs a radio. As he lifts it to his head, Dennis quickly fires off two rounds into the man's skull. He immediately steps forward, hurling the Pokeball with all his might.

    The first goon drops, startling the second. When the Pokeball approaches his face, he instinctively covers his face with his arms, causing the empty ball to bounce harmlessly off his forearms. He lowers his hands to stare at the ball in surprise, giving Dennis an opportunity to shoot him square in the forehead.

    With the Amethyst goons taken care of, Dennis recovers his dropped ball and prepares to take the left path, when he hears a pained groan from the bushes ahead. He snaps his gun up, slowly approaching the bush. "Razer, clear this up!" He tosses a Pokeball, his Scyther making quick work of the long grass. He trains his pistol on the figure lying on the ground, but holsters it when he recognizes the A.A.V. uniform the man is wearing. The man's shirt is drenched in blood, with two bullet holes in his torso and one in his shoulder.

    "Razer, stand down, he's one of ours." Dennis kneels to inspect the man, seeing how badly injured he is. "Hey, can you walk? Someone will have heard those shots."

    The man is barely conscious, his eyes unfocused as he stares at Dennis. "Amethyst... ambushed... barely... made it out... who're you...?"

    Dennis takes a look at the man's shoulder, noticing the bullet was a through-and-through. "I'm Dennis, I'm with the A.A.V. What's your name?"

    The man winces as Dennis tries to help him up. "J-Jasper. Gotta... get to town... right path, about a mile... road... on the left... Heather Lane..."

    Jasper's injuries are severe, but Dennis can't just leave him, especially not after making so much noise and destroying his cover. "I'm no doctor, but your injuries don't look too bad. I think they missed all your vital organs."

    "A-all of them?"

    "Yeah. Come on. I'll help you up, and we'll get you to Heather Lane." Dennis helps Jasper to his feet, supporting much of his weight, practically carrying him. Razer glances behind them, flaring his wings in agitation. "Scyther..." Dennis glances back, spotting another Team Amethyst goon on the trail behind them. The goon stops when she sees the group, clearly uncertain of what to do.

    Not wanting to give her a chance, Dennis pulls his gun and fires off two shots at the grunt. But between the distance, Jasper's weight, and sheer bad luck, his shots go wide. The girl practically trips over herself as she scrambles for safety, screaming "Over here! They're this way!"

    Dennis curses his luck, taking off down the right path as fast as he can while half-carrying, half-dragging Jasper. Jasper moans in pain, begging not to be left behind. Razer cries out in warning, just as a Poochyena latches onto Jasper's leg, tearing him from Dennis' grip. "Razer, use Cut!"

    Razer dashes forward, slicing the Dark dog with his blade arm. The Pooch growls in pain, letting go of Jasper to turn his attention toward Razer. "Double Team!" Razer crosses his arms, vibrating before splitting into three exact replicas. The Pooch Howls in response, psyching itself up and no doubt alerting more goons. "Wing Attack!"

    The three Razers leap forward in unison, flying over the Pooch. They circle back in midair, diving down and slicing it with their razor-sharp wings. It lunges forward to Bite one, but the image fades away: an afterimage, not the real Razer. "Quick Attack!"

    Both Razers leap forward too quickly to be seen, striking the Pooch with a blunt backhand before dashing out of reach. The Pooch Howls again, but a Pokeball strikes it in the nose, consuming it in a red light. Dennis whirls to see Jasper struggling to sit up. "Go! I'll only... urgh!... slow you down! I'll... hold them off. Just... get to... Heather..."

    Dennis can only nod, returning Razer to his ball and running down the path. He doesn't even look back to see if Jasper managed to capture the Poochyena.
     
    @Godzil: WOW WHAT AN AMAZING POST! I loved it and from start to finish I was hooked! Especially love that you're not against using weaponry which is amazing, and that you were realistic to the point that you missed some shots too. Very creative way for Jasper to be left behind so that you don't look heartless but at the same time aren't an idiot willing to sacrifice himself!
     
    Dennis Coleman

    Dennis hates to leave a man behind, but if he doesn't, they'll both suffer the consequences. Hopefully it takes those goons some time to reach Jasper, and hopefully he can hold his own against them. But realistically, he's probably going to die, and that thought burns Dennis up inside. All he can do is press on, towards the only lead he has. The exit from the forest is in sight, thankfully unguarded. The open road stretches on ahead.

    ☆☆7 minutes, 35 seconds later☆☆

    About a mile (give or take) down the road, Dennis notices a dirt road splitting off to the left. It's fairly short, leading to a house about 100 yards away. Dennis slows to read the sign, indicating the road is indeed Heather Lane. He chances a look back toward the forest, seeing no sign of pursuit. He wastes no more time heading down the road, not entirely sure what he'll find.

    The house itself is fairly small, a two-story affair made of red brick. It's completely surrounded by a chest-high wall made of gray stone, with a simple wooden gate. All in all, not a bad place. Green grass, a little path leading up to the house, even a well. It's certainly the most comforting sight he's seen today. He realizes that Jasper never told him what he was supposed to do here. He opens the gate, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for whatever-

    He smells muffins.

    A window is open, no doubt to let heat out of the house, and the smell of ftesh baked muffins wafts out. Dennis can see a small kitchen through the open window. After all he's gone through today: the nauseating helicopter ride, crashing into the tree, the clearing, having to kill those goons, finding and subsequently losing Jasper... the thought of just going inside, getting cleaned up and enjoying some warm food sounds fantastic.

    Throwing caution to the wind, he walks up the path and knocks on the door. It takes a moment, but the door opens. Dennis is surprised when he sees who opened it. It's the woman from the locket! Her hair is a little longer than in the picture, but he recognizes her cute face, those pretty green eyes...

    Of course, if he was surprised, she is positively shocked. A strange man in military uniform, sweat on his brow and fresh blood on his jacket standing on her threshold? A panicked reaction would be understandable. Her reaction? She looks at Dennis in shock, then stumbles back a step, tears forming in her eyes. "No... oh please, no..."

    Dennis rapidly comes to his senses, raising his hands placatingly. "Ma'am, wait. It's not what it looks like."

    "Isn't it?" She snaps, shooting Dennis a glare. "That uniform, the blood... he's dead isn't he? Terry's dead, and you're here to offer your sincere condolences on behalf of Archie and everyone at the A.A.V." She's very angry, but Dennis has no idea what she's talking about. He tilts his head slightly to the left as he thinks, remembering he grabbed the ID tags from the clearing.

    He turns away from the woman as he fishes the tags out of his pocket, looking over the names. "Wh... what are you doing? Can't you remember?! Just who do you think you are?"

    Dennis doesn't turn back, still looking over tags. "I'm not a messenger, ma'am, I'm a soldier. I was transferred to a new squad, but I was... delayed. When I got to the rendezvous point, they were all dead. Amethyst soldiers were still around, so I didn't have much time to identify the bodies. My day hasn't improved much since then. Oh, wait..." he turns back to the woman who is staring at him in shock again.

    "Terrence Park? Is he the "Terry" you mentioned? And is this his?" Dennis shows her the locket, which seems to upset her.

    "S-so... he's really d-dead?"

    "Unfortunately. I'm... sorry for your loss. It wasn't my intention to bring you bad news. I was just trying to get to town, and the directions I was given led me here. By the way, can I come in? I'd rather not be standing out in the open like this."

    The woman steps aside, apparently still processing. "What? Oh, yes. Come in..." Dennis goes inside, and she locks the door behind him. "The locket... can I have it back, please?"

    "Well, I was intending to keep it, but I suppose it belongs with you more." Dennis hands it over, but the woman glares at him as she takes it. "This isn't the time for jokes."

    As she walks off toward the kitchen, Dennis wisely decides not to tell her he wasn't joking.
     
    Richard Foile
    Chapter 1.1

    Richard gazed idly over the bar, watching for any signs of trouble and doing his best to look generally tough. Tough didn't come naturally to him, but he did have a certain austerity about his appearance that looked unsettling in the right light, and "The Rusty Steelix" had that exact light. But he wouldn't be able to savour the atmosphere for much longer; it only been a single night, but the sudden appearance of a malignant stranger was starting to raise questions, even in a bar as seedy as this. Sideways glances were thrown his way every other hour, and his name was being whispered in dark corners at night. It wouldn't be long before someone in authority found out, and knowing the paranoid and authoritarian nature of Team Amethyst, Richard would in be in a dangerous line of fire. He decided it was time to either get out of Olivine, before he came under excessive scrutiny.
    Wearing a simple t-shirt and trousers, he thanked the bartender for putting him up for the night, and gingerly left the building at midday, the day after his arrival. He abandoned his resistance gear, reasoning that he'd get by faster without them, but he'd taken a backpack that had been let in the bar, and smuggled a few bottles out of the bar. He had a plan to get past - or rather, get through - the city-wide blockade, but it needed some preparation first.
    He had Nocturnal scout the city for a petrol station, and she returned with a bottle of petrol, presumably "borrowed" from the garage or shed of a local. He didn't exactly feel fantastic about indirectly stealing from presumably innocent people, but it was for his own survival and for the good of the resistance. This would be his justification when it came to carrying out his plan, as he filled the bottles with petrol and stuffed them with scraps of material liberated from his resistance gear.
    Hours passed. Richard had made his way to the outskirts of town, waiting by a road that led into Route 38, and spotted a border check manned by men in Team Amethyst uniforms. Wellington was crouched besides his trainer, Nocturnal waiting in a tree nearby, and Sentinel was... Somewhere. Richard checked his back to avoid a repeat of the disastrous training exercise he'd had a few months ago, but he only found his packpack. He'd lined his petrol-filled bottles by his side and taken cover in a hedge, attentive to the Amethyst troops there. There was clearly a rotary system, with troops changing every couple of hours but never leaving less than six troops, but there was always a single Growlithe waiting with them; presumably as a sniffer dog. Richard elected to wait until after the next changeover to make his move.
    When the moment came, Richard's mouth was dry. He was unarmed, beyond his bottles, unlike the Team Amethyst troops, who seemed to have guns, batons, and machetes. If his plan failed, he was dead. With that cheery thought, he turned to Wellington. 'Alright, then. We need some sparks. Strike that flint, there, and we'll get these bombs ready.' He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and sighed. 'Now, Wellington.' At his master's command, Wellington struck a piece of rock on the floor several times, creating an almighty din as he did so. Richard was certain that the soldiers would hear the ruckus, and he prayed that this wasn't a stupid idea. Fortunately, the petrol-soaked rags in the bottles were easy to light, and Wellington's blades were slashing furiously at the ground. A single spark caught onto one of the rags, and stifling a yell of surprise, Richard lifted the bottle behind his head, took aim, and launched it into the centre of the patrol.
    The chaos was imminent. Two soldiers who had started towards Richard on hearing the noise Wellington had made were simply thrown clear, but the four who had stayed behind were caught in the blast. Keeping up the attack, Richard threw his remaining improvised explosives at the same area, using the fire on the ground to ignite them and cause an even greater conflagration. The two Amethyst troops who had been thrown clear were now charging towards him, fumbling for weapons of some kind as they closed the distance to about 100 metres. 'Death to Amethyst! Death to Amara!' Richard shouted, as he launched himself at one of the soldiers. He was equipped with a crude machete, but Richard collided into him before he could put it to use and it flew from his hand. Both ended up brawling on the floor, with Richard quickly gaining the upper hand and punching his opponent in the side of the head, desperate to knock him out. The soldier was resilient, however, and gouged and clawed at his face; with a cry of desperation, Richard lifted the soldier's head and smashed itagaint the ground. With a sickening crack, his eyes glazed over and his body went limp. Richard sprung to his feet, ready to tackle the second soldier, but Wellington had seen to him already. The soldier had tried to fire at the Bisharp, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off of Welington's steel body, doing nothing to slow his swift, inexorable advance towards his target. The moment Wellington closed the distance, it was over; the blade on his left arm sunk into the soldier's abdomen, and he unleashed a flurry of slashes and cuts against his target. Before long, a lifeless body lay on the ground, lacerated and bleeding, the Bisharp standing over him in a terrible triumph.
    Richard spun around the view the carnage. None of the other Amethyst soldiers were moving, but the Growlithe was standing defiantly in the middle of the road, blocking his escape. He quickly picked up the machete from the downed soldier and prepared to fight off the Growlithe, with a heavy sense of dread. He didn't like fighting or killing Pokemon. People were one thing; when they let fear, or arrogance, or hatred turn them to the tyranny of Team Amethyst, they deserved everything they got. He didn't regret their deaths. But a Pokemon? It was just loyal. Following orders. Without warning, Nocturnal swooped down over Richard's head, dropping Sentinel directly onto the Growlithe. Sentinel latched onto the dog Pokemon's face and fired a high-pressured stream of water, causing it to yelp and scream in pain. Whilst it was distracted, Richard continued looting the soldiers. He took the holder for the machete from the first soldier, slinging it over his back and placing the machete inside. He then found a gun and a couple of ammo clips on the second soldier, but the others were too burned to properly investigate; there would be nothing of use on their bodies. As an after thought, he took one of the soldiers' jackets, in case he encountered cold or needed to sneak through more Amethyst areas.
    He then turned his attention back to the Growlithe. It had been utterly devastated by Sentinel's attacks, who now stood hissing by it. It looked up at Richard with fear, but its will to fight was broken. It was clearly young and inexperienced, but it couldn't simply be left here. It could lead the next Amethyst patrol straight to him. His team assembled around him, with Nocturnal landing on his shoulder and Wellington by his side. He could easily order Wellington to execute the Growlithe; it would be quick, and relatively painless. The other option would be to take it with him and leave it somewhere it would be safe, but also not a risk to his escape. He needed to make his decision quickly; a new patrol would be along soon, and there was no way to conceal the fact that there had been a struggle here. He looked into the Growlithe's eyes, filled with indecision and doubt.
     
    Brandon Carroway: Cloud
    Strength without Number

    Brandon gazed down from his perch atop the Pokemon Center, a grim look on his face. The platoon was out in the open. Death was inevitable for all those gathered...Unless he acted. The white mask upon his face covered the vast majority of it. None of Amara's fighters would know who he is. "....Time to go." He brushed his hair from his face and pulled a black fedora a little lower, hiding even more of his countenance. The ambush'll take place any time now...I have to act. They're defenseless...Public execution is not justice. He stood up and strode over to the edge of the roof. "Send my regards to Amara." He reached into a trench coat and pulled a pistol with a silencer. Good old Justice... He sighed as he looked down at his trusty pistol. It's a shame I need it.

    He leaped down from the roof and landed amidst the crowd gathered to watch. It seemed that none had noticed him. Brandon kept his gun concealed in his trench coat as he approached, but it was most definitely at the ready. It seemed that the crowd didn't see the man wearing a mask, trenchcoat, and fedora. Or they meant not to see him. They have to know that I'm here to help...No one can condone such thoughtless violence. He made his way to the front of the crowd to find a few dozen A.A.V soldiers kneeling in rows along the square. They were all guarded by at least thirty or forty soldiers. A small detachment for such an important man... Brandon easily picked out the commander and the higher-uppers...One was unconscious. Bastards. Beating prisoners.

    Before he could scan the gathered soldiers even more, a man clad in Amethyst officer armor made his way to the front of the line, a flashy looking pistol in his hand. "These men," his voice boomed, "And women, are dangers to society. We must quell them before they ruin our perfect, beautiful society." Without warning, he leveled the gun at a younger woman's head and pulled the trigger. BAM! One down. "They only seek to bring anarchy to a perfect world." BANG! The unconscious man is shot. "They seek only to corrupt the minds of today's youth, like this young man here." He points the gun at a young boy, obviously terrified. His lips are quivering, his body shaking, a few tears rolling down his face. "He's been corrupted, and the only way to fix it is to end him."

    The man fell. A soldier ran up to him to see what happened. A bullet had flown through his head. The soldier fell. A bullet passed through his chest. A voice came out from the rest of the gathered Amethyst goons. "Check the roofs! Search the crowd! Let no one escape!" Brandon, now aware that his cover would be blown, decided to strike as the soldiers scattered in all directions away from the rebels. He sprinted over to the young boy and picked him up off the ground. "GET UP!" He looked to the leader and picked him up as well. "LET'S GO!" A few of the soldiers turned to see him, but he raised his gun before they could unsling theirs. Four shots flew from Justice, four soldiers fell. "RUN! I'll hold them off!" Both took off towards the forest. Good. Brandon jumped behind a statue of Amara as a trail of bullets followed him. F*ck....I'm pinned. He peeked out from cover and emptied his clip. Two more soldiers fell. Brandon slipped the empty clip out of his gun and slapped another one in. Might as well take some of them out.

     
    @Godzil: You really under-rate yourself as far interaction pieces go, I really like how realistically the woman's emotions came across! A brilliant end to the chapter and if you have any ideas you want to be incorporated into the next chapter hit me up asap!

    @Asariond: What a creative way to power through the border control! Richard is proving to be heading for a major role with the A.A.V provided he is able to get in contact with them. If you want to take the Growlithe that's a solid idea, brilliant way to go about catching another team member should you so choose to.

    @Challenger: Very interesting and action packed start! Looking forward to see where you go from here.
     
    Brandon Carroway: Cloud
    Not Out of the Woods Yet

    Brandon groaned as shots rang out all around him. It had seemed that the goons had formed a firing line of sorts, covering every angle they could. F*cking hell... He looked to the two captives rescued. The older man had been helping the kid move on, and at this point they were near the edge of the forest. Just a little bit more. They had to escape, or this whole mission was a bust. Brandon stood up, taking care to stay in the corner of the Amara statue. He peeked out just far enough to aim, his gun quickly leveling at the nearest soldier. A squeeze of the trigger and the man fell. There's no way I can keep doing this. He looked back to the escaping pair. He saw the boy make it into the treeline, but the older man had disappeared. Damn. Where'd he go? There wasn't any time to wonder. Cloud heard a clunk to the left back near the grunts' battle line, followed by an angry, "Voltorb!" "SHIIIIII-"

    PWOOSH

    A large explosion racked the area as the center square was engulfed in a ball of fire. Amethyst grunts were tossed back and those that hadn't run away from the battle were knocked aside like ragdolls. Brandon, who was at the edge of the explosion, was merely knocked flat on his back. His ears were ringing and his head was sore from hitting the concrete, but other than that there was nothing permanent. He stood up, a little dazed, and looked around. The town center was in chaos. Civilians were running around screaming. Several of Amara's grunts had been knocked unconcious, and even more were killed. It seemed that several of the A.A.V soldiers had either been killed in the explosion or before by the Amethyst soldiers, but those that survived were free and hobbling towards the forest clearing.Thank Arceus...This is a partial success...But where did the Voltorb come from?

    A rough hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. It was the man. "Come on! We need to get out of here!" He began to run towards the forest, a slight limp in his legs. The kid was watching from behind a tree, still terrified. I have to get the hell out of here.

    Brandon began to take off after him, but a sharp pain in his leg caused him to tumble forward. "F*ck!" He shouted and looked down. There was a piece of metal stuck in his leg. Shrapnel. He yanked out the piece of metal and groaned in pain. "That's gonna leave a mark..." He muttered and began to move as quickly as he could towards the forest line. Surely there, he could find a save haven with the remains of the A.A.V forces
    .
     
    @Challenger: A nice way to save a few of the optional partners. Now it's up to you to decide who to take when you split up.
     


    CHAPTER TWO: Survival
    "In the struggle for survuval, the fittest
    win out at the expense of their rivals"
    ~Charles Darwin


    *bulbagarden.net image removed*Brandon Carroway*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    Spoiler:


    *bulbagarden.net image removed*Cressida Chase*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    Spoiler:


    *bulbagarden.net image removed*Dennis Coleman*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    Spoiler:


    *bulbagarden.net image removed*Richard Foile*bulbagarden.net image removed*
    Spoiler:




     
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    Dennis Coleman
    Chapter 2: Introductions


    Dennis follows the woman into the kitchen, where the smell of warm muffins is strongest. She looks sad as she stares at the locket, slowly rotating it into the heart shape. Dennis much prefers how she looks in the picture, happy and smiling. "You have a lovely house, Miss... I'm sorry, I never asked your name."

    Startled out of her thoughts, she quickly rotates the locket back to it's original shape. Almost as if she's hiding it from him... "Oh, t-thank you... It's Heather. What's... what's yours?"

    "Your name is Heather, and you live on Heather Lane? That's a happy coincidence, isn't it? Or was it a factor in choosing this house?"

    She sighs, leaning against the counter. "This road doesn't have an official name. 'Lane' is my last name, and the sign was a gift from my best friend. He thought it was funny, and no one has ever complained about it, so I leave the sign up." She sounds like she's told this story many times, and will tell it many more. "Now, your name, Mr. Soldier? And how did you find me, anyway?"

    Dennis looks at the floor, finding the memories painful. "Right. Sorry. My name's Dennis, Dennis Coleman. Like I said, I was meeting up with my new squad, but they were all... dead. I did manage to find one survivor, a man named Jasper, but he didn't last long. His last wish was for me to get to this house. I don't know why..." He looks up to see Heather has turned away, and is shaking as she quietly sobs. "Huh? Ms. Lane? ...Heather? Are... you alright?"

    "I... I think I'd like you to leave now. I want to be alone." She tries not to cry, her voice tight. Dennis instead moves closer, putting his hand on her shoulder.

    "I'm sorry, it's been an emotional day all around. Did you know Jasper too? Was he-"

    "I said get out!" She knocks his hand away, whirling around and shoving him. When she pushes on his chest, Dennis feels something crack inside, letting out a pained yell. He stumbles back, tripping over a chair and falling to the floor. This makes his ribs hurt more, and he lays on the ground, gasping in pain.

    "Oh my God, are you okay? I didn't mean to hit you so hard!" She kneels beside him, putting her hand on his chest. Dennis winces in pain, waving her off. "No, it's not you! I must have injured myself in the crash. Adrenaline must have kept the pain at bay..."

    Heather helps him to his feet, leading him to the stairs. "Come on, let's get you patched up. And out of those clothes, you're getting blood on my floor."

    Dennis lets her lead him upstairs, letting out a pained chuckle. He decides to try and make a joke to lighten the mood. "Out of these clothes, huh? No need to be so forward, Ms. Lane."

    "Not like that!" She elbows Dennis in the ribs in annoyance. The pain makes him stumble and cry out, but she catches him. "Oops, sorry. I guess I wasn't thinking." She sounds sweet and innocent, but Dennis can hear the anger in her words. Apparently jokes are not a good idea right now. "P-point taken. Sorry..."
     
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    @Godzil: Amazing, as I've come to expect. I really enjoy the personality that I'm seeing develop in Heather already, your interactions are very realistic and make for an enjoyable read! Keep up the fantastic work, seems like you're pacing your progress in posts very well so far too.
     
    Dennis Coleman
    Chapter 2: Recovery Period


    Dennis sits on a chair in the master bathroom, his jacket in the bathtub, his shirt on the floor. Heather has an open first aid kit nearby as she wraps up his ribs. He winces slightly as she tightens the wrappings, but doesn't say anything.

    "Keep this on for a while, and it should help. At least, that's what I've read in books. I'm a baker, not a doctor, so let's just hope for the best." She puts away the medical supplies, while Dennis looks over his various injuries.

    She had cleaned and bandaged his various smaller injuries in addition to his ribs. "Thank you. For your help, I mean. I'm sorry that-"

    "Be quiet." Heather snaps the first aid kit shut harder than she needs to. "I don't want to talk about why you're here. But you are here, and the least I can do is be a good host. Stay as long as you need to. I... don't really want to be alone right now. Within reason. There are boundaries, mister." She points at him, looking him in the eye and generally acting like a stern mother.

    Dennis nods, used to the "strict authority figure" act. Rose was a master at it, and had a mean right hook to back it up. But he had a good counter for it: levity. He grabs her finger, shaking her hand. "Understood, Miss Lane. I promise to be a good guest."

    She actually smiles, tossing his shirt to him. "Good. Get your things from your jacket and I'll do my best to clean it. You can stay in the guest room down the hall. Make yourself at home."

    Dennis tips his hat to her and grabs his gear. He heads to his new quarters and takes stock of everything. His injuries are minor, and he'll heal in no time. He is safe and comfortable in this house, with a pretty girl to look after him. All his gear is intact, and he's close enough to town that finding the local A.A.V. branch won't take long. "All in all, things aren't bad. They could definitely be worse." He takes his boots off, gingerly laying down on the bed to get some rest.

    ☆☆Later, after dinner...☆☆

    "So you actually own your own bakery? I bet that's a lot of fun." Dennis and Heather have been getting to know each other, and he'd already given her the short version of his story.

    "You'd think so, and you'd be right. But it's a lot of work, too. I was already planning on taking some time off, so you have good timing. I'll be home pretty much all the time this week."

    "To take care of me?" Dennis offers her a smile, but she rolls her eyes. "To keep an eye on you." She smiles right back, and Dennis concedes the point. "Either way, this'll be an interesting week. I don't know how long it'll take for you to recover, but once I explain what happened, I'm sure everyone will understand."

    "Um... actually? I'd prefer if you didn't tell anyone what happened. I'd like to stay under the radar, and if anyone finds out about me, or what happened to Terry or Jasper, it could make them interested in you. And not in the good way."

    Heather sighs, nodding in understanding. "Fine. I'll keep quiet. I sometimes regret getting involved with soldiers, you know?"

    Dennis nods slowly, not knowing what she means at all, but agreeing anyway. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you 'get involved', anyway?"

    Heather stares at him for a moment before looking away. "I do mind, actually. I really don't want to talk about it right now."

    "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I didn't think..." Dennis stumbles over his words, but Heather holds up her hand to silence him. "It's fine. ...okay, it's not, but forget it. Let's just... get some sleep. I'll give you some of Terry's clothes to wear. They should fit." She gets up, heading upstairs and leaving Dennis by himself. He sits quietly, mentally kicking himself. "You were doing good, she was enjoying herself. Way to screw up, Dennis." He goes up to his room, hoping tomorrow is a better day.
     
    @Godzil: The unfolding relationship between these two is getting me hooked! I love seeing a lighter side of Heather, and especially since it's not at the expense of her completely forgetting about her best friend and partner. Brought a smile to my face with the comedy used throughout too, brilliant! I really appreciate the hustle you're throwing in to post consistently as well.
     
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