From: Perfect Chaos (regulus@webzone.net) Subject: [PW!] [OAV] When reality sets in Newsgroups: alt.games.nintendo.pokemon Date: 2000/03/11 "It was a mistake. I wasn’t disgusted with her, I was afraid. At that moment, I felt small - like I’d lacked experience, like I’d never be on her level or never be enough for her or something. And what I didn’t get was that she didn’t care. She wasn’t looking for that guy anymore. She was looking for me. But by the time I realized this, it was too late, you know. She’d moved on, and all I had to show for it was some foolish pride, which then gave way to regret. She was the girl, I know that now. But I pushed her away...So I’ve spent every day since then chasing Amy...So to speak. -- Kevin Smith as Silent Bob - "Chasing Amy" ----- Spectre Hikage looked out over the town. It had been so long since he had felt the longing...the need. The urge to have someone near him. To care. If only his dreams hadn't forced him to part ways. If only his insane ramblings hadn't caused her to give up. If he had stopped, and opened his eyes to what was in front of him, instead of worrying about the past, or what he saw in his sleep...maybe then, he would still be loved. ----- Reality A PokeWars! OAV Written on Friday, March 10th, 2000 ----- He felt the soft crash of rain against his body, and he knew it was time to leave. He wasn't sure where. He never was anymore. He roamed from city to city, staying only long enough for a meal or a shelter for the night. He picked up a job here and there, mostly hunting down petty criminals. Him, of all people, hunting down criminals. That was a laugh. Home wasn't home anymore. His father...the bastard. How could he replace her so easily?! All the time gone, and now he had the nerve to remarry. In his heart, Spectre honestly hoped someone would hire him to assassinate his new mother. The woman held no love for him. This was proved on the trip home after the fateful day he had parted ways with the love of his life. He had opened the front door, and stumbled into the house at around 9PM. On the couch, as predicted, was his father. Watching some cheesy action movie with bad acting on network television. He whistled faintly, alerting his old man to his presence. He remembered the look of concern on his face as he walked towards him. Spectre had started recalling the recent events when she walked in, clad in a bathrobe, and drying her hair with a towel. The boy gave his father a questioning glance. The response was a simple smile and a nod, as if he had known the question before it was asked. The woman raised her head enough to realize there was another in the room. She simply ignored him and headed upstairs. With another look, this time a bit of worry, along with another unidentifiable emotion, he headed upstairs after her. Spectre stood there, at least half an hour, staring with a shocked expression on his face. Just staring at the stairs. That woman couldn't have been 10 years older than he was! This was...unacceptable. Taking a moment to write a note explaining he wouldn't be back, the pokémon trainer walked out of his house for the last time. And now, he was a simple hired gun. Working with his pair of pokémon, a Scyther and a Ditto, he went out to kill or capture people for his bread and butter. A lowly hitman. Nothing more. The constant nagging reminder sickened him. It crept at the edge of his mind ever waking moment, and haunted his dreams. Dreams...those god damned dreams. The cause of the end for him. He started having them nearly a year ago. Images and pictures thatdidn't make a damned bit of sense. But it had slowly whittled away at his sanity, leaving him a helpless, hysterical maniac. He had recieved help in the form of a few days in a mental facility, and a prescription for anti-depressants. Some help. Often he wondered where she was. That beautiful girl that had befriended him when his life was at a low point. That angel who had stuck by him at all times. ...Nearly all times. His constant retelling of his dreams, and the need to seek the answers drove her away. The most hellishly depressing day of his miserable life was the day she said goodbye to him. He walked the streets of the city....where the hell was he anyway? He wasn't sure. He didn't care. The rain continued down, soaking his trenchcoat as he remembered. Every painful detail etched in his brain. Her hands trembled at her sides, her eyes moist with yet-unshed tears. He had taken a step forward, ready to brush any of the incoming beads of salty water away, but she had stopped him. She quietly told him that she couldn't handle his raving anymore...nor his disrespect to her friend. Granted, Spectre was jealous. Too much so in this case. He had been away from her for so long, and he didn't want to risk another seperation. Hell of a lot of good it did him. She had put her arms around his waist and hugged his body against hers one final time. He wasn't able to reply to the words she said. He could only hear the few that she ended that damnable sentence with: I hate you. Hate...such a strong word from someone he thought loved him. Someone he thought he could turn to if needed. But isntead, he got a cold, empty shell of a hurt, decieved young woman. She turned and ran off, crying...to catch up to HER. He just stood there....and the rain started to come down. Rain. God, he hated the rain. It reminded him more of that day than anything. The dark skies, the coldness. The empty void where she should've been. He trudged down the sidewalk, and the edge of town opened up to him. A dark day like this was perfect. It made repressed feelings surface, boil over, and cause him to break down again. He missed her. He missed seeing her, hearing her, feeling her touch...someone next to him during the night. Those horrid, lonely nights when he needed human comfort....something he had been trained not to rely on. Sometimes he sat up, gazing up at the night sky, and wondered. About whether she was looking at the same stars...about how she was doing....about where she was and who she was with. He shouldn't. But he did. The city limits. Good. His chance to escape this filled city. Damn romance anyway! Damn life in general! Damn HER! Damn her right to hell. The cause of all his pain and suffering was also the girl of his wildest fantasies and all of those wretched dreams. Fate's a strange thing. One minute you're king of the hill, looking down at the world and feeling like you can never fall. The next, you're at the bottom of that hill, searching desperately for a way to reach the top again. It's always out of reach, and never quite attainable...yet you must try. For the sake of your own happiness, you must try. Yet everytime you do...you fail. Damn her. Damn this weather. Damn Kat. Damn his father for doing this. He didn't need anyone or anything to get by in life. He had been alone most of his life, out on his own, stopping by his house for a month or two at a time for a vacation. So why did he feel so alone? So scared? Again, his thoughts scattered in dozens of directions. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe it was all one terrible, terrible nightmare, and he'd wake up at any moment, clutching the sheets of his bed and sweating profusely. ...Maybe. ...But not likely. A small, wooded area ahead. Perhaps, he thought, he would luck out, and the lightning would choose that precise moment. One moment in time where a small forest needed to be set ablaze. Spectre slowed down during his walk through the woods. No such luck. Fate is, after all...funny that way. For while his life was an onslaught of pain and suffering, he couldn't bring himself to the point of suicide. The thoughts had raced through his young mind time and time again, that's true. But he never could bring himself to do it. Perhaps the thought that he'd find happiness again drove his passion for survival. Perhaps...meeting her again...and making up... that they'd both realize what a mistake it was to ever seperate. Maybe it was the thrill of the hunt. That surge of adrenalin that coursed through his veins as he tracked his bounty in the night. It was a hard life, that. Being alone again. Pokémon training....what was the point? It was all fruitless in the end. The world doesn't stop if you become the Master. It doesn't end once you reach your goal of destroying the Elite Four. He had heard talk of troubles in the Elite FOur as of late. Talk of kicking members out for good. Spectre could only imagine why. Once in awhile, he was lucky enough to pass by a TV. The stories were typical. Pokémon here and there, Tournament battle results. Elite Four split-up rumors. ...Splitting up. Why did that come back to haunt him do damned often? Life wasn't fair. It never was. It never will be. But perhaps, some day, he'd find who he was searching for. ...Perhaps. Spectre, after exiting the small area, was lucky to find a cave nearby. Entering it and setting up a few lights, he pulled out a sleeping bag from his backpack. Lighting a bit of a fire near the entrance and hoping it stayed lit thorugh the night, the young man laid down, and drifted off into a dreamless slumber. Dreamless now, of course, because any hopes and dreams he had were shot down in that fateful moment of pain. So his dreams were nonexistant. A nightmare or two came along nightly however, to ensure his sleep would not be complete and sound. And a nightmare this was. One filled with screaming and crying. All from him. This wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be him. ...Not him. Not here. Why NOW?! He was being chased. A long neck, spikes sticking from it's white body, wing-like flippers...it was hard to tell. Narrow, evil, glowing eyes pierced directly into his soul, and made him stop dead in his tracks. The pokémon caught up, towering over him. It's head lowered down to even out with Spectre's. It opened his mouth and roared. A godawful, ear-shattering screech. He sat up. It was morning. Damn, but the night had passed too quickly. He was familiar with that type of hellish dream, though. They's plagued him for weeks. Months. He shook his head and packed his gear again. Outside, birds were chirping high above in the clear sky. Was far too bright. Why did days like this exist? ...That was an ignorant question. They existed for couples in love. For picnics in the park. For cozy, moonlit strolls along bodies of water. For taking a drive in the country. For love. It was enough to make him sick. He cursed his luck and started walking again. Endlessly travelling the land, searching for anyone who needed an assassin. He didn't care who he killed. It was money. Money meant survival. But what did survival mean anymore? Survival before meant to strive to achieve something. To become the best. Just like all the other trainers. Being normal, he reasoned, was overrated anyway. Another town near the ocean. Sometimes, he wished something would pick him up and drop him in the dead center of the sea, away from any form of land or creature that might save him. Then it wouldn't be his fault. It wouldn't be his fault. ...Yes, it would. He would've died with the knowledge that he couldn't prevented it. Entering a pokémon center, he handed over two pokéballs to the nurse Chansey, who went to heal them. Scyther didn't like walking free anymore. He hated seeing his trainer, and best friend, suffer this way. But what could he do? He was, after all, a creature. So he stayed in his encasement, coming out when needed, getting rewarded to a big meal for a job well done after, and back into it. Day in, day out, the same routine. Spec recieved his pokémon back, and tucked the pokéballs safely into his trenchcoat. On his way out, he smiled faintly at a group of up-and-coming trainers psyching themselves up for the big day when they would head out on their own. Being alone isn't all it's cracked up to be. They'd learn. With luck, maybe in an easier way than he had. He walked outside, the light shining down on him. Just a lost soul now. A mindless drone. Just like everyone else. Damn it all. As he walked down towards the beach, he felt the gentle breeze of the waves caress his skin. Despite the nice temperature and weather, he scowled. He didn't want to feel happy. It was a moot point. He couldn't be happy anymore. She was gone, his father had utterly deserted him when he was needed the most...and life chose every chance it got to remind him of these facts. Deciding to stray from the group of tourists and townspeople who had set up areas to sit, he found a secluded area, with a lot of rocks. He sat down, staring at the rolling waves. They rolled in and crashed out, the cycle repeating a few times a minute. He frowned slightly, his head tilting. He thought, off in the distance... ...No. It wasn't. Ne sighed and shut his eyes, letting the wind hit him. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he knew it was at least a few hours. The sun was setting now, the horizon a rainbow of colors. Too many things reminded him of romance. Too much brought his mind to thinking that if only he wasn't such a thickskulled jackass... Those kinds of thoughts were the ones that stung most. He could've kept her near if he hadn't acted so foolish. His life was slipping away, day by day, and he didn't know it yet. And by the time the realization hit him...it would be too late for salvation. Fate's funny that way...isn't it? He laid back on the rock as the darkness of night started in. The world was big...and empty. Full of ignorant people doing petty, ignorant things that, in the long run, wouldn't mean a damned thing. Life was cruel. But he couldn't let his own pain destroy him. He had to continue. For whatever reason. No one could take away the memories he had. And no one could take away the love he had felt. They were all he had left of the wonderful times he had spent with her. Deep down, he knew she must think of him too....and of what might've been. Maybe it was all for the better, this. Without him...maybe she'd find somebody else. A little wiser....someone with more money than he had. Someone who could treat her like she needed and deserved to be treated. And without her...it's true that he'd be free....to go chasing after all those crazy dreams he had when he was younger. He wished he could tell her goodbye. He really never got the chance. Maybe if he did, he could finally get closure. But he forced himself to stay away. Doing so, he couldn't fall back in love with her. That was also a problem, though, as he never stopped to begin with. Truth be told, the young man was surprised things had lasted as long as they did. He had a violent streak, and he had never told her. He knew it was part of the reason. He was too controlling... which was because he was afraid. Afraid of losing her to someone better. Afraid of defeat. He couldn't stand defeat like that. Losing her to someone like that would've hurt worse than anything else. He recalled a line from a story...a beautiful, beautiful story he had once read. Into the soft twilight, he broke the silence by speaking it, "....I never warned her about what happens to people I love....and she didn't know to be careful." He felt a wetness at the corners of his eyes. Oh no, not again. He wished he was stronger, and cursed himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. He stood up, and headed away. Away from this miserably depressing place. Away from people. To try and run away from all the sad thoughts. Of all the things he should've done. He would be fine...he knew that. The world was a big place. He hoped whatever it had in store for him, and whatever happened, that she would know. Know that he would always have a special place in his heart reserved solely for her. The one person who taught him more about himself than he thought possible. She didn't teach him how to love. She taught him how to be happy. Perhaps...one day he would reclaim happiness like the kind that she showed him. ...Perhaps. End -- Reg