Wait, I can write?!

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Wait, I can write?!

Postby Miror B. on Thu Dec 11, 2008 1:05 am

Blarg, it's the Miror again. I've been feeling quite bored, so I decided to start a fanfiction. For now, it's untitled, so suggestions for a title would be nice. (Pokemon of course, though it's not as Pokemoney as other fics you've probably seen).

So, uh, yeah. Review if you want me to be happies and stuff.


UNTITLED: PROLOGUE

Flames spread out through the hall, licking up the walls and incinerating all that stood in it’s path. The air was fogged up with smoke, casting a dark haze on the surroundings, and filling it with an overpowering scent, choking the very air with it. John gave another rumbling cough, as he blindly stumbled towards a doorway. The last two doorways had burned his palm, so it was now slightly blackened from burn marks, but he payed no heed, and lunged at the newest doorknob. Another fresh jolt of pain seared through his hand, but he couldn’t even muster the breath to swear. He felt he couldn’t walk, his legs feeling heavier and heavier as he continued stumbling down the hall, trying to find one door that didn’t conceal another room burning into ash.

At last he found one, not exactly cool to the touch, but not so intensely hot that it would cause him mortal agony. The thought of survival sparked him, the thought of seeing his family, the thought of living to see his baby boy grow up into a man, into action, as he kicked the door open. The new vitality that had miraculously sparked up within him sent him surging forward, clearing his mind as he searched for possible escapes. Ironically, the fire exit was the only exit that could safely get him outside, and the only one blocked by a large chunk of the ceiling that had fallen to the floor. He heard footsteps behind him, and a flood of fear entered him, seeping through his veins like ice.

Without thinking, he dashed toward the only escape exit located in the room: one of the many windows. Without thinking, he punched it in and felt the stabbing pains in his already abused hand as glass shards pierced his flesh. Trying to ignore it, he began forcing himself through it, only to be abruptly grabbed by the hair, dragged back inside the burning building, and tossed to the floor. A shock of colors suddenly flooded his vision, and he tried to get up again, only to have his head slammed down again by a black boot.

He was dazed, yet his eyes fully comprehended the horror in front of him, as a woman squatted before him. It horrified him to even look at her, as she was so strikingly similar to him in appearance. Chestnut locks of hair framed her face, her mouth slightly curved, as if she was always mockingly smiling. Then again, she really was, a disdainful smile that made him want to attack her, to erase that smile off of her face. The boot pinning his head down had been removed some time ago, but he couldn’t even sit upright, he was so dizzy. Vaguely, he could feel the blood slowly flowing out the side of his head, pooling onto the soft red carpet under him.

“Hello brother, were you planning on going somewhere?” she asked, her voice soft yet so dangerous, as if her tongue was smothered with poison honey. John couldn’t move, he felt everything sliding in and out of focus, the only thing he was concentrating on sitting right in front of him. He spat out a globule of blood onto the carpet, directly hitting her boot. He inwardly smirked, as the boot had looked expensive. Glaring directly into her icy blue eyes, a shade lighter than his, he mustered up all his energy to snarl at her.

“Go to… hell…noob,” he muttered, feeling weaker by the second. Oh, if only one of his Pokemon were here, she wouldn’t be smiling at him, mocking him with her eyes, gloating in his powerlessness. No, she would know the true meaning of terror, she would know why he had evaded death for so long, only through the help of his comrades. One slender hand reached into John’s pocket, as she grabbed a red and white orb he had kept with him at all times. Seeing her holding it invoked a savage anger in John, as if she stood there holding her own child. He wanted nothing more than to scream at her, demand that she release it, or else he would rip her limb from limb.

“Now now, you should always share with your little sister,” she trilled, as if in song, as she lightly put the orb in her pocket. Glaring directly into her eyes, her voice suddenly became more business like. “John, I would like to give you a quick overview of why you are in this situation. One, refusing to share your valuable secrets with us, when you know we will win in the end. Two, releasing Mewtwo, which is a great danger to us all, an untamed beast who can lay wreck to all of Kanto. Three, positively running after merely seeing me, as if I was some terrible monster. You don’t do that to your own sister, you know.”

In his mind, John was streaming a long chain of curses, yet he felt himself start to fade. The space in front of him started to swim in front of his eyes, and began disappearing into the mist that seemed to envelop his sight.

“I don’t regret it for a single minute,” he said faintly, putting all his threatening intent into it, although it sounded quite feeble. “I hope you and your Rocket scum burn. Your no family to me.”

She frowned for a moment, but soon regained her normal composure, and stood up, reaching into a pouch strung on her belt. Taking out a red and white orb so sickeningly familiar to his own, reminding him of all of his companions, the ones who he had braved through thick and thin with, who he considered closer than family, a white light burst from it as she released the lock.

A massive purple snake materialized it, looking as horrible as a demon from hell to John. It was way bigger than a normal Arbok should look, almost as thick as a steel girder, with fangs like daggers. Venom dripped from the Arbok’s fangs, actually burning holes in the carpet, and the symbols on it’s chest was arranged in such a way John thought it must’ve been the face of Death itself.

She looked at John with something akin to pity, albeit the kind one would give before someone was about to die. Slowly, the Arbok slid over to John, and dislocated it’s jaws, before beginning to envelop his head inside it’s mouth.

“Goodbye,” was all he heard her say, before he saw a fleeting impression of a giant throat, felt a pierce in his neck, and thought no more.
"Knights do it two-handed!" Drunk guy from a bar, FF5
"That's not teen crisis, that's you realizing you suck." - ManualSearch

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