From: Cat-Gonk (gjaniMPERATOR@iinet.net.au) Subject: [PW!] Continuity Fix. Newsgroups: alt.games.nintendo.pokemon Date: 2000/04/11 (Author's note: This is what I do in English Lit...) Viridian Forest, 120 kilometres north-east of Hellion Town. "Galahad! Pin Missile!" 18th Annual Hive Games, Day Two. Ducking out from behind a tree, Galahad cut through the forest canopy with a hurricane of blasts from his stinger. The wickedly curved barb held in his two needle-shaped hands like a biological rifle, the Beedrill scanned the leafy foliage and the night sky above him for his assailants. A red sash adorned his torso, marking him out as a fighter from Hellion Hive. Galahad was fighting in the "Outgunned" event. One Beedril would take on two three-Pokemon teams, his power level equal to the combined rating of his opponents. Whoever was alive by the end of the time limit won. So far, he'd only claimed one kill and seconds were ticking away. Two green-sashed Beedrill zoomed past him, their initial charge merely an attempt to confuse Galahad so that the second squad could attack him unawares. Not falling for the ruse, Galahad caught the would-be ambushers as they flew up from the cover of the forest floor, and sprayed them with poisonous stingers. His aim was true, and two assailants hit the ground. Surging forwards, he used his detached stinger like a bayonet and rammed it through the torso of the second squad's last member as it attempted to break away. Galahad's wings carried him into the air, and he spun and fired, his shots carving through a thick tree-trunk, felling it and revealing the reminder of the first team. <You've trained him well,> buzzed a huge Beedrill to the young Felix Charlesson beside him. Unlike most Beedrill hives, Hellion was ruled over by a male of the species, Leon Charlesson's third Pokemon, rightfully returned to the wild. <He's doing well for this stage of the competition, I wonder how he'll fare against stronger opponents.> Two opponents left. Clipping his stinger back to his lower body, Galahad extended his arms forward and fired the lance-like frontal stingers at his enemies. The first caught one as it turned to draw a bead on its foe, the sharp-pointed projectile impaling the Beedrill on its length. Galahad's second shot narrowly missed, leaving one shell-shocked opponent left who promptly turned tail and ran. Galahad could win this by default. If he let his foe leave the arena, the victory was his. However, the Beedrill's honour would not allow such an action. It would take too long for him to use Pin Missile, and without his lances, close-combat was out of the question. Powering up Agility, Galahad rushed full-pelt fowards, and rammed his body into one of Viridian Forest's many trees. The impact was enough to topple the tall trunk, it fell forwards, and crushed Galahad's cowardly foe under its weight. A strange form of insectoid applause filled the forest. Weedle squires brought Galahad curative items, and carried their champion off the battlefield to his proud trainer, Felix Charlesson. [PW!] Continuity Fix. By Cat-Gonk. "Choose your image, sir." In a dark chamber, four viewscreens appeared around a reclined chair covered in arcane technological devices. One panel displayed the image of a strange gold and blue suit of high-tech armour, Ancient Egyptian in appearance. The second showed tattered clothing, though covered in gold and jewellery. A teenage boy appeared in the third, and the fourth was another suit of armour, though red, purple and yellow with a heavy pistol holstered at the waste. "Ancient Egyptian. South Seas can wait for the next forum I post in," said a voice. "Remind me again what the problem is." A sound-wave display flickered into life. "In three hours, an NPC will attempt to sabotage the Hive Games, an event occuring in one of your posts. This will spark an all-out war between Hellion Town and Viridian City, culminating in the destruction of both. As Viridian City is a part of direct continuity, you will be removed of the powers of authorship should this occur." The computerised voice continued. "The NPC in question is a left-over from "Rockets of the Stars and Moon", a post from Dryad a few months ago. He is expendable. At the moment, he is attending a social event in a nightclub inside the Celadon Underground." "You are free to use whatever means necessary." A panel opened up in one of the walls, a light from inside illuminating its contents. A host of weapons, from shivs to shotguns, axes to autopistols and brass-knuckles to bazookas lay inside. A six-barreled assault cannon, a brace of pistols, a strange pepperbox-style handgun, three hand grenades and a brutal-looking warhammer were picked from inside by mechanical hands, and placed on an altar a few metres away. "Are you ready, sir?" said the computer. "Meeh. Let's go." The MegaSound Chair in the centre of the chamber shuddered and jerked as incredible energies were pumped into its adamantium frame. Sigils glowed from the raw power of the process as its occupant entered a world of pure imagination. ------ <Sir Damian! Watch out behind you!> The hulking, powerful Beedrill dove to the forest floor, narrowly avoiding a salvo of Pin Missiles. His agile opponent moved too fast for him to see, and the forest's echoes made any chance of hearing his opponent impossible. A lance slammed into Sir Damian's midsection. Another broke through the silvered membranes of his wings. Five Pin Missiles fired from point-blank range knocked him into the air, taking the last of his energy. Hellion Hive's most powerful knight hit the ground, unconscious. "That guy's too fast for him," said Felix to his Beedrill as they sat on the sidelines, watching the battle unfold on a video-wall. "From what I've seen, if you hit the other guy first you'll win most of the time." ------ Two thugs came out from inside the alley to greet the approaching footsteps. One carried a lead pipe, the other a large butcher's knife. It was a typical night in the back-alleys of Celadon, gangsters out on the prowl for victims. "Wot the 'ell?" The didn't expect to see a man in ancient armour, carrying a heavy multi-barreled weapon which sparkled brilliantly in the moonlight. Slowly they backed away, weapons at the ready. "Who are ya? Whadda ya want?" The figure's advance continued, gun pointed unswervingly forward. Now that he was closer, the thugs could pick out a pistol holster on the both the figure's thighs and shoulders, as well as a large hammer hung from the figure's back. "Must be one of dose cosiplay gimps. Let's take 'im out." The figure's helm retracted into his collar. It was a teenage boy, with strangely feline features picked out in makeup, a fine sprinkling of sparkling dust over his face. His dark green hair didn't move an inch as he walked, though it did not appear to be gelled in place. He wore a smile as his two opponents advanced, thinking of the cash they'd get for his outfit at the pawn shop. He lowered his gun, and extended a hand outwards as if to wave hello. The man spoke two words in a mysterious, powerful voice which chilled the two men to the bone. "Aurora Beam." A blast of purple energy shot from his open palm, slamming into the pipe-wielding man's chest with a brilliant rainbow flash of light. When the second gangster's vision was restored, he saw what was left of the body as he shivered from the bitter cold of the attack. The torso was missing, it was as if the remainder of the corpse was a shop mannequin that someone had thoughtlessly disassembled and left in the street, except this one was covered in frozen ichor and the head wore a horrified expression on its rugged face. As the now terror-stricken man turned his head to face forwards, he saw that the mysterious golden man was right in front of him, laughing like a child who'd understood his first knock-knock joke. From nowhere, a klaxon sounded. "WARNING. WARNING. FAQ SPECIFICALLY STATES THAT A PG-13 RATING BE PLACED ON ALL POSTS." "Fifth Element was PG." No aid came to those alone in the Celadon backstreets. Ironically, it was something the pair of thugs usually relied on. As the man raised his hand to fire another blast of energy, a strange scissor-esque noise cut through the surrounding air as time momentarily accelerated. (snip) "Computer," spoke the mysterious man as he brushed the icicles of frozen blood off his breastplace. "Change appearance to Normal." "Yes sir," said an artificial voice as if from nowhere. The figure's armour dematerialised into a sparkling cloud, swathing him in light. As the energy dissipated, the man stood clothed in a greatcoat, light olive trousers, black shirt and a pair of running shoes. Two more thugs rounded the corner, possibly searching for the first two. Withdrawing an autopistol from inside his coat, the figure opened fire. ------ His name was Earp. Not the most original codename, but it was a damn sight more preferable to Hopalong. A recent re-screening of Dragon Ball Z had led to his appearance matching that of Zarbon, as his author had not been able to think of a more original template for the NPC. Clad in standard Rocket garb, like many of the others in The Hole, he didn't stand out particularly well in the crowd. He'd been working on a particularly cunning plan for the past few days, and after having it approved by Boss Rocket, decided to take the night off before The party raged around him as The Hole's daily events kicked into motion, yet he was not getting himself involved. Normally he'd have lost himself in the pounding beats of his favourite song, Du Hassamu, unlike many of the other hard-man NPC Rockets that seemed to frequent this part of the city due to influxes of inexperienced writers. Of course, Earp was completely unaware of his position as a pawn in a massive, ongoing game of chess, and blamed his lack of jiggy on an upset stomach, and the overly tough-looking Rockets seated around the room as tryhards. Making his way through the crowd and climbing out of the lowered platform comprising the dance floor, Earp settled for a closer look at one of the podium dancers. A man opened the door near the left corner of the room, and walked down the stairs onto the dance floor. His head was bouncing ever-so-slightly in time with the music. Odd, Earp hadn't seen him before. As he stepped off the final step, a bright purple flash of light surged through the room. No-one noticed, thinking that it was part of the party. Then someone noticed the man dressed as if part of a live-action episode of "Mummies Alive" standing at the edge of the dance floor, multi-barreled gun lowered into the crowd. ------ <Fire two! Fall back and keep firing!> Kakuna detonated across the battleground as the Hellion side retreated, laying down a pattern of covering fire. Thick streams of sticky fluid cascaded through the air, trapping unfortunates in its rapidly-solidifying embrace. Weedle in hand, Galahad squeezed its tail and fired a Poison Sting into the torso of an oncoming assailant, close enough to attack in hand-to-hand. The hit momentarily stopped its advance, allowing Galahad time to fire a single Pin Missile from his tail stinger without dropping his biological weapon. Though weak, the single needle-like stinger was enough to drop his foe to the ground, where another Hellion Beedrill, Raged up for close-combat finished him off. Viridian was going all-out, but had little in reserve. A minefield of buried Kakuna detonated through their advance, cutting their numbers in half. The Kakuna were an unlikely part of the Hellion Hive breeding program, like the Sniper Weedle and other biological weapons, and were paying off in battle. ------ All was chaos now. People scrambled up the ladders, clawing and tearing at each other in an effort to be first out of the killing pit. The only thing they suceeded in doing was increasing the panic and ensuring that no-one made it out of The Hole alive. Earp bolted, his proximity to the exits allowing for a quick escape. The stereotypical tough-guy Rockets he'd noticed earlier attempted to draw weapons, but were cut down in bolts of eerie purple fire which impacted into their bodies with a flash of rainbow-coloured light and a wave of intense cold. The man with the gun saw the terror-stricken Rockets outside of the pit attempt to escape, and ended the lives of all those stuck on the dance floor with a single fragementation grenade. Bringing his weapon to bear on those fleeing the nightclub, the mysterious Egyptian opened fire, the stacatto beat of his assault cannon matching the pulse of the music. Ascending the stairs in two fear-enhanced jumps, Earp made it into the relative safety of Rocket Game Corner, and quietly made his way to the glass doors of the exit. ------ *CLICK* *CLICK* *CLICK* "Bugger." The man threw his weapon away with all the strength he could muster as all six of the assault cannon's barrels jammed simultaneously. Withdrawing the strange, multi-barreled pistol from his hip holster, a mental command raised the laptop hung from his waist into a position where he could reach the keys and see the monitor. "Computer? Where is my target?" The laptop's monitor displayed a map of Rocket Game Corner, with a shining dot displaying the target's position. "There is an exit to your left, sir." ------ Galahad took a direct hit to the shoulder, causing him to drop the Weedle serving as his weapon. Using the bristles on his other forelimb to wrench the protruding lance from his body, Galahad tossed it aside and watch for his opponent. It was the Knight that had downed Sir Damian. Galahad caught sight of him too late, the Viridian Knight had already put Galahad in a stranglehold and wrenched the life out of him in a twist of his forelimbs before rejoining the failing Viridian assault. The final round of the second day simulated a Dawn Raid, and so far, Viridian was losing. Even with Galahad awaiting retrieval by his squires or his trainer's Pokeball, Hellion would have no trouble dispatching the remaining agressors. ------ The doors slid open as Earp hastily made his escape into the brightly-lit Celadon Plaza, his Rocket uniform hidden under a trenchcoat to mask him from passers-by. For a moment, he turned around to take one last look behind him, just to make sure if anyone was coming. Past the multicoloured gambling machines, he somehow managed to catch sight of a man with dark green hair coming out of the steps in the back of the casino. Suddenly, time froze. He was back in Mount Moon, fighting a tall Raichu and his seemingly-sentient comrades. He was seated at his desk in the Diet Coke Bottle, drawing up the plans for the raid on Viridian Forest's Hive Games. He was in The Hole, wondering where his rhythm had left him. It felt like his entire life had flashed before his eyes, but he could only remember three events from what should have been an entire life stream. It was as if before that, he had not existed at all. "I'll just re-write you. You'll be fine." Earp turned, and felt his body disintegrate as scything rounds from a six-barreled shot-pistol turned the young Rocket into a fog of blood and flesh. He felt his consciousness being released from his body and taken to another plane, one which he seemed to know was not the end of his existence. The last thing he saw was the man holding a pistol to what was Earp's throat, and then all was black. ------ "Earp? Earp Greyling?" "Huh?" Earp awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. He didn't have a clue where he was, looking down at his body, he was wearing a lab coat rather than the clothes he was used to, what were the clothes he was used to? A woman stood in front of him, and was trying to wake him up. "Come on. It's your first day on the job." ------ Felix lay down in the grass, staring up at the night sky. He felt relieved for some strange reason, like a crisis had been averted, but he couldn't think of a reason. Maybe it was the tension surrounding the Hive Games, now that Day Two was over, Hellion looked like they might have a shot at taking victory in the third and final day. Somewhere else, a man began work on his first job in Sliph Co., though he couldn't seem to remember what he'd been doing for the past twenty years of his life, or yesterday, for that matter. And somewhere outside of the universe, a strangely feline man relaxed in a bizzare chair that connected him to a digital universe, knowing that he'd live to write another day.