Subject: [PW!] Five Year Hiatus Date: 24 Jul 2002 07:49:53 GMT From: jsolano199@aol.comlink (Jose L. Solano) Organization: AOL Newsgroups: All the guests seemed settled and in place, but one shady person had quickly walked in, and took a seat in the back. As the wedding march began, the man opened a small communicator. "Yes?" "I have need of you. Come to Celadon city. There is a wedding. Kill the groom." "Yes, sir. Dreadite out." Giovanni chuckled to himself. Tenchi waited at the altar, nonchalantly glancing to the church organ in the balcony. Trent Retwin hid in the balcony itself, loading his guns. Tenchi had promised him a hefty sum for the job. He had a simple objective: protect the bride and groom. He didn't know either of them, but neither looked like they had dangerous enemies. It seemed to Trent that Tenchi was a very cautious person. That, or a very stupid one, it didn't matter, just so long as Trent received his reward. All was in place now... as the music played, Natasha walked down the aisle, in a beautiful gown Tenchi had surprised her with. He smiled, and thought to himself that nothing could go wrong now. Natasha glanced back, looking over the guests. Everything had an almost dreamlike quality to it. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to..." Tenchi smiled as the minister droned on. Tenchi glanced in the back. A familiar shadowed figure could be seem smirking. He didn’t want to ruin the wedding, so Tenchi just talked through clenched teeth, still smiling. "Your father is here..." A quick nod from Natasha. "Maybe... he'll leave us alone." "Do you, Tenchi Gourry Inverse take Natasha Noyana Kanji to be your lawfully wedded wife, for as both as you long shall live?" "I do." "And do you, Natasha Noyana Kanji take Tenchi Gourry Inverse to be your lawfully wedded husband, for as both as you long shall live?" "I do." "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." Tenchi lifted the veil off Natasha’s face, and kissed her square on the lips. Outside, a long black car pulled up outside the church. The people inside had instead of tears of joy, tears of sorrow. A casket sat in the back of the car, closed. It was rather large, unusual. Unadorned except for the black finish of the wood and a small D carved into the top, it seemed to push light away as it was moved to the center of the wedding reception area. The so called mourners walked away, leaving the car outside. The mourners had opened the casket, leaving the face of a young, short-haired man inside visible from under the slightly open top, his eyes closed in death. Giovanni noticed the motion outside the reception area, and smiled inwardly. The crowd moved towards the reception area, and the coffin stayed put, in front of the cake. Tenchi smiled as he and his new wife walked down the aisle, pelted with rice balls and the occasional donut. Laughing, they each took a glob of cake and smeared it on each other, sucking the excess of each others fingers. As they headed over a table with lots of gifts, Natasha frowned as they received a toaster. "....Erika." "No biggie sis! I know you'll need it, with your handicap in cooking!" They continued opening the gifts, Natasha refusing to let her "sister's" joke ruin the day. When they got to the last two gifts, her jaw nearly dropped. The band began to play "Raticate love". As they danced, Tenchi pulled Natasha in close, and kissed her on the forehead. The happy couple was blissfully unaware... The lid of the coffin flew through the air, and would have smashed Tenchi had he not noticed it. He blinked at Giovanni, who was just smiling and drinking wine. Tenchi whirled around to see who threw the piece of stained wood. What he saw made him boggle. Dreadite stepped out of the coffin, and stretched his wings lazily. His hand drifted to his side as he walked towards the couple, a flat smile on his face. "Such a happy occasion, these weddings. I'm here on behalf of Team Rocket to bring you this special gift." Tenchi looked back at Giovanni, and noticed the Rocket leader was now standing well to the side. Tenchi looked over at Natasha, then back at the approaching figure. "What sorta gift is this?" Dreadite stopped, and laughed. A low, dark laugh. "Simple. The gift of all that life stands for. I give you the goal of your measly little life. Death." With that, Dreadite pulled his katana out of his cloak and waves his hand towards the couple. A small fireball flew towards Tenchi, exploding with a flash as it reached him. Dreadite's eyes faintly glowed red, reflecting the glare of the fire. Dreadite stepped through the fire, and Tenchi's Ninja reflexes barely dodged the strike. Tenchi rolled to the side. "Woah now, not cool." Tenchi twirled, kicking at Dreadite, who lept into the air to avoid it. Tenchi watched the Rocket land in front of him, and looked into his eyes. "Darkness..." Dreadite stated, letting the word hang in the air before continuing, "swallows up the light. Yet the light continues to fight. That's right, it's Dreadite." Dreadite didn't blink, and just stepped backwards. He then lept forward, and slashed. Natasha just lept in the way, and Dreadite quickly turned the sword to the flat side and grabbed her. Dreadite looked her in the eyes and snarled. "Don't get in my way, little one." Dreadite threw her aside into the cake, and turned back to Tenchi. "Now, where were we... oh yes, I was going to kill you. It's a pity such fancy clothes inhibit movement so much, it makes the fight so dull. Fight for your life. I know you can." Trent quickly ran from behind the organ to fire at the attacker, but the fleeing guests made it difficult to get a clear shot. He wouldn't get so much as a cent if he killed the family of his employer. Trent quickly ran down the stairway and pushed his way through the crowd in an effort to get to the fight. Tenchi looked over. "Natasha, you okay?" "Fine, thanks... good cake, soft cake," Natasha replied, trying to get out of the cake. Dreadite ran forward, and slashed at Tenchi. Tenchi again dodged, and reached into his jacket pockets. "Gotta have something... oh, yeah!" Tenchi lept to the side. Dreadite quickly sidestepped, cutting him off. "Tsk, tsk. Going somewhere?" Tenchi frowned. Almost all the guests had fled, aside from a few who were helping Natasha out of the cake. "Yes...I am going somewhere. To get my weapon." With that, Tenchi gave a slam in the face with his right shoulder. Tenchi winced in pain as he felt his shoulder dislocate. "What the hell are you?" Dreadite pulled his fist back and punched Tenchi in the mouth, causing him to fall hard on the floor. Tenchi released his two Pokémon with some difficulty, coughing up some blood. "So, you want you bring Pokémon into this battle? Very well. Clefable, deal with these losers." Prime, Tenchi's Pikachu, was the first to shoot forward, unleashing a swift attack. The Clefable countered with a psychic blast that knocked the small Pikachu across the floor. Meanwhile, Tenchi had made a dash for his weapon, which had chosen that moment to jam. "Ha. Pathetic weapon boy. Now, it ends." Dreadite raised his Katana high, but a Firespin from a Vulpix sent Dreadite flying back and into a wall, causing it to crash down. "I... think... I got him." Tenchi breathed heavily, heart pounding. When the smoke cleared however, Dreadite stood unharmed, his clothes and wings only singed. "That... tickled. Now feel the true power of darkness." "Tenchi! Catch!" Natasha shouted, and tossed him is trenchcoat, full of weapons. "Thanks Natasha!" Tenchi reached into his coat, and pulled out the first thing he found, just as Dreadite rushed forward. Rushing forward, Tenchi fired his grappling hook just as Dreadite thrust his Katana forward. Time seemed to stand still and Natasha watched in horror as Tenchi was pierced in the gut by the Rocket's weapon. His grappling hook missed, and struck a wall instead. Pulling his weapon out, and kicking the weakened Tenchi down on the ground, Dreadite smiled. "You were good boy... but not good enough... for Dreadite. And so the battle ends!" He rose the Katana directly above Tenchis heart, and thrust it downward. With the guests clear, Trent scrambled towards Dreadite, a gun in each hand. He fired several times at him... unfortunately, Trent was the worst at aiming and only managed to hit Dreadite's left arm and wing... "Oh shit..." Suddenly, a Charmander appeared out of nowhere. Dreadite wiped a small amount of blood from his face, and smirked. "Let me guess. The cavalry?" Charmander rushed forward, prepared to slash the Rocket. Just as Dreadite was about to blast the Pokémon who dared to strike him, Charmander began to glow... and grow. His skin became a darker red, and a crest grew on his head. "Chaaaarmeleon!" Tenchi managed to get out, despite feeling his right lung ready to collapse. Dreadite sighed and unleashed a small blast of energy upon the Chameleon, knocking it into a wall. Standing up, Chameleon growled. "Char char charmel... ZARD!" Everything stung from the thick smoke filling the room. Natasha coughed and rubbed her eyes, glancing around frantically. A dull flickering nearby caught her attention, and she quickly realized that it was a fire. Panicked thoughts rushed through her already broken mind, and she dashed forward. Within a few seconds, she could make out the fuzzy outline of a tail. A few more steps let her see... wings. Natasha gasped and ran for the last few yards, then simply stood shocked. The massive form of a Charizard was sprawled in front of her, lying in a clearly uncomfortable position on its stomach. One wing was twisted into an unnatural shape, and she had no doubt that it was broken. Shaking, Natasha crouched by Charizard's side and gently stroked the dragon's neck. Charizard grunted in pain and flopped its good wing. /~Did... did we kill it?~/ Natasha closed her eyes for a moment. The only sound in the room was Charizard's slow, raspy breathing, and the silence was unbearable. She started to open her mouth, but closed it before speaking. 'I don't know, baby...I don't know...' Charizard opened its eyes and glanced around. /~I can't see you. Go forward. I can't see you...~/ Slowly, Natasha stood up and stepped in front of Charizard. /~I said, go forward. I can't see you.~/ 'I'm... I'm right here.' The creature simply grunted again and closed its eyes. Dreadite stepped out of the smoke and flames, sword drawn and eyes ablaze. His cloak was shredded, revealing the rocket's more traditional grey uniform. He folded back his wings, one hanging limp from Trent's bullet. He glanced over at the Charizard and then turned away, obviously not considering it a threat. He looked around the church for Trent. He locked eyes with the bounty hunter as Trent attempted to retreat out of the room. "And where are you going, coward? Tsk tsk," Dreadite growled, as he stepped forward. With one quick movement, he lept in front of Trent, and grabbed the bounty hunter's head. "Goodnight." Dreadite grabbed his head and pressed to the side, hard. A loud snap ensued, and Trent dropped to the floor. Dreadite slashed his gut, and then walked over to the groom, who was breathing heavily. Dreadite smirked. Trent wasn't sure exactly what had just happened, but he knew it would all end soon. He clutched his stomach, feeling his own blood dripping out, his breath was becoming shorter... "I believe my work here is done. Adieu." Dreadite kicked Tenchi, and raised his hand. A crackling noise started, and a small fireball flew up and hit the ceiling supports. The fire started eating away as Dreadite bowed to the shaken-up priest. "Forgive me father, for I have destroyed this place of beauty. A pity you didn't go with it, but I have other things to attend to. I'll be sure to come to your funeral." Tenchi got to his knees, and groaned. "Where are you?" Dreadite stepped away from the priest, and looked down at Tenchi with an almost pitying look in his eyes. Then, back to the old, uncaring stare. Dreadite kicked the groom across the room, into a wall. Then, the Rocket picked up his Clefable's Pokéball, returned it, and started towards the door. He stopped, crossed himself, and left the room. Smoke started billowing up from the supports, embers falling. Pokewars!: Trent Retwin "Five Year Hiatus" Jose L. Solano Prologue written by Dreadite, Natasha V., Jose L. Solano and Ninja Otaku Repairs on the church had been completed about a year after the damage had been done. Though the casual observer couldn't tell the difference, an expert in gothic architecture would notice that the craftsmanship on the repaired sections wasn't nearly as good as the original work. But hey, what do they know? There were less people there to worship than there were before the incident at the wedding. Many felt strongly about the battle that took place there. At least one person had been killed there, and that made more than a few people uneasy. Trent Retwin stood in the organ balcony, as he had for the past year. He didn't know why he had arrived there, or why he stayed, but something told him he should. It had been five, nearly six years since Trent completed his transformation. As a demon, he appeared human, with the exception of his eyes. However, beneath the surface, he was quite the opposite of human. Through means which he did not understand, Trent's entire frame was stronger than human, and he was capable of sustaining powerful blows from wild Pokémon with little damage. That wasn't his strangest change, though. He no longer needed food. Instead, he could just absorb the energy of other creatures. Even after four years, he still wasn't used to it. He had been creeping around Kanto at night, sure nobody would see him, but every so often he would be spotted by a paranoid UFO-watcher, and strangely, Trent was now the hottest topic in cryptozoology circles and paranoia-based newspapers; in fact, a blurry photograph of him appeared on the cover of a recent issue, right next to Bat Boy and the cat droppings with the image of Jesus on them. The Wooly Nightwalker, they called him. Not the most flattering name. Some speculated that perhaps he is the missing link, a step above the Yeti and a step below humanity, and that he had an odd fascination with windows. Some said he was a member of a secret race of flesh-eaters living below the Earth's surface. Some said he was just a homeless guy. The real downside to his new self was that his mind wasn't what it once was. Of course, Trent was never a genius, and that was still true, but now he couldn't hold memories in his head for too long. It wasn't all of his memories that disappeared, just those that made him happy. Memories of his life before his death had gone. He had only blurry memories of his family and a playful Sandshrew he once trained, but not enough to matter to him. He clearly remembered his Sandslash, Ashura, but somehow, the memories didn't connect. They didn't seem important to him; he had forgotten why they were important. There was no reason for him to grieve his past life. What he did care about was his future. He needed a goal. He needed a purpose. "Hey, you there!" Huh? "Hey, you there," a man in a suit said. Trent was prepared to flee, but the man had a tie. Trent stopped to listen to him. "Aren't these summer months hot and bothersome? And with that heavy shag on your head, it's not getting any easier!" "What kind of salesman makes his deals in off-limits sections of church?" "The best kind! Sam T. Feinstein's the name, and I'm here to talk to you about Blowhard brand air conditioning systems!" "Air conditioners?" "Did you know that the average household does NOT have an air conditioning system? Did you know that about six million people a year die of heatstroke?" "Really?" "Yes! Do you want to be one of them?" "No." "Then you're lucky you ran into me! For the low, low price of just $300 a month, a brand new Blowhard brand air conditioning system could be YOURS!" "Mine?" "Yes, YOURS!" "I dunno, it sounds expensive..." "Well how much is your life worth to you?" "A dime?" "No, your life is worth $300 a month!" "Really? Count me in! Oh wait... I don't have money, or a house. Sorry." "Oh. Okay. Well, when you get a job, and a home, come to talk us. We've got offices all throughout Kanto. Here's my card, bye!" Feinstein leisurely walked down the stairs. Trent shoved the business card into his pocket and started thinking. He DID need an air conditioner... he didn't want to be one of the six million to die from heatstroke. He had to get money somehow... but there wasn't much he could do, except kill people... Suddenly, Trent had an idea. ----------------------------- Two days after Trent had met the strange salesman, he stood in a bathroom, wiping away some moisture on the mirror, and checking his face. He had shaved his beard off, but because the only instrument available was a cheap, dated electric razor, he still had some stubble left. He had cut his hair with a pair of scissors, and while it wasn't perfect, he was satisfied. He had spent three hours in the shower, washing the layers of filth that had built on him. He was surprised he didn't have any strange diseases, but then again, he had no reason to fear them anymore. He grinned and winked at himself. "My, I forgot just how handsome and rugged you are, Mr. Retwin," he said. He sprayed on some deodorant and dressed himself in a pair of jeans and an oversized t-shirt. He walked out of the bathroom and stepped into the kitchen. In the living room, a fat man with thick glasses watched some typed of game show. Suddenly, the phone rang. "Hello? Oh, hi, honey. How is Seattle? Oh, that's great. Listen, I took Missy to the vet today to get her rabies shot, so we have that out of the way... huh? Oh, don't worry about me, hon, just enjoy yourself!" A loud crash came from the kitchen, followed by a loud "Dammit!" "What? Oh, that was nothing. Just some crazy guy who broke in a few hours ago. What? I know, I know... look, I would call the cops, but that would mean I'd have to get up. It's not like he's trying to kill me or anything. Hold on... hey, you! Crazy guy! How much longer do you plan on being here?" "A few minutes, fatty." "He says he'll leave in a few minutes. What? Okay. Yes, I'll do that. Okay. I love you, too, honey! Bye!" The fat man hung up and continued watching his game show. "Can you believe this, man? The bitch is coming back tonight. I've gotta clean this place up before seven, and I gotta go pick her up. Listen, can you do me a favor and pick her up at the airport?" Trent stared at him. Why was he talking to him? "Oh, on your way back, pick up a pizza for us, will ya?" Trent took the fat man's wallet from the counter and walked out. Being lazy and pathetic, the fat man didn't do anything about it. Walking out of the apartment building, Trent counted the money he had just stolen. Five hundred. That would do. Downtown Celadon, a place Trent found quite familiar. It was about noon, so it was fairly busy. Trent noticed that people kept giving him weird looks. He figured it was his eyes, and took the shades of a passerby. Now nobody could tell he wasn't all human. For some reason, people still gave him weird looks. Then he noticed the shirt he had taken had a giant Jigglypuff on it. Luck was against Trent. He ducked into clothing store. It wasn't the Jigglypuff that bothered him, it was the absence of his favorite color on his outfit. "Welcome sir," an employee said. "How may I help you?" "What do you have in black?" ----------------------------- Trent once again sat in the organ balcony, wearing his new black duds... which he'd modified slightly, the only way he knew how: ripping. Now that he felt a little more confident, he had to figure out how he was going to get that air conditioner. But first, he needed a quick snack. On his way out of church, the priest stopped him. "Hmmm... hello, my son... did you enjoy today's sermon?" "Huh? No, sorry, I don't bother. See, I'm already dead." "I see... well, good night to you, my son." The priest walked away, apparently not surprised. Trent walked through the dark streets of Celadon... the street lights in that district were still under review by the city council, and it would be a while before they would be repaired. Trent found his prey... a street thug leaning against a brick wall. Trent could've found better, but he was as lazy as he was stupid. He casually walked next to him and leaned against the wall. "Who th' fuck are you?" "Doesn't matter." "Okay. I'm Frank. I want you to give me your wallet now. That cool?" "Yeah, that's cool. Here." Trent handed him the fat man's wallet. There was no money left inside. "You think you're funny, punk?" "A little, yeah. What, you don't think that's funny? You want to steal wallet, and I give a wallet I stole from someone else! Isn't that... oh, you're right. It's not funny." Trent ducked as Frank swung a fairly large knife. Fairly large knives were usually best when avoided. "Look, don't bother wearing yourself out, you'll be useless if you do." Again, Trent dodged the fairly large knife. Getting a rather funny (at least to himself) idea, Trent ran, and Frank chased. Trent climbed up a fire escape, followed by the fairly large knife-wielding thug. He swung the knife rather aimlessly, scraping the railing on the stairs and causing mild sparks to fly. Trent led the thug to the roof of an apartment building, and stopped running. Trent turned to face him with a sinister grin on his face. Frank grinned as well, pulling a second knife out of his coat. Brandishing both knifes, he lunged forward, prepared to cut Trent to pieces. All he saw was a boot, and then he was down on the floor. "Wha-?!" "Yeah. Hey, I have one of your knives." Trent showed him the knife and tossed it back to him. "Try that again." Frank run forward once more, slicing air as he ran, but once more, he was met by a boot. Frank struggled to get up, and when he was finally on his feet, he changed his strategy. He stayed where he was and waited for Trent to attack. Trent snickered, but did nothing else. Frank felt his legs getting tired. He dropped one of his knifes, then the other, and collapsed. Trent took a deep breath, feeling replenished, and walked over to his fallen attacker. He picked both knives up, then sat down next to Frank. "You know what I like about knives? They make people bleed... aw, fuck. That didn't sound creepy at all, did it? Dammit. Lemme start over... you know what I like about knives? They can cut you and you wouldn't know it until it's too late... FUCK. Okay, that one was just embarrassing. I'll get to the point then. I'm going to cut you up. You're too tired to scream. Say goodnight, Frank." Six minutes later, Trent jumped down into the alley and sat down next to a trash can. He began to think about what he would do to buy the air conditioner... having been secluded for nearly six years, he was out of the loop as far as posted bounties. Hell, he didn't even know where to look anymore. He looked at the bloody knife he held in his hand. A nice, sharp, shiny, silver knife. It almost reminded him of a short sword. Trent had once used a sword... he was fairly good with it, considering very few people in the world still used them as weapons. His old sword had helped him collect numerous bounties. There was only one other who had defeated him in a swordfight, and only one person who had managed to avoid capture and assassination on more than one occasion. That man was quite reliable when it came to bounties... he never went a minute without having a price on his head. But with his new abilities, would Trent finally collect? Trent had finally decided on his mission, and when he looked at it, pay or not, he would get something out of it. Either way, Trent Retwin had a score to settle with Dreadite. Trent's back, in semi-humorous style (don't worry, it'll get funnier as this story unfolds... or at least, I'll try, sometimes people don't get my sense of humor... er... hmmm. Why am I writing this again?). Yeah, I think everyone saw the thug's death coming a mile away, but I promise less gratuitous murder. Anyway, I didn't actually plan on bringing him back, but I started to miss writing the character, so I've been plotting this for a year... this story went through MANY versions throughout said year, which included such inane ideas as having Trent join the circus, being fished out of a river, being attacked by a Growlithe in someone's backyard, and even waking up near a Spanish mission and meeting a sarcastic priest (I'm not kidding by the way, and I still have a copy somewhere... it was mostly dialogue, though), but I only started writing this one last Sunday. In the event that you're wondering, that "huh?" right before Trent meets the salesman isn't a quote. It's the narration going "huh?" Jose L. Solano ------------------------------- A devious, degenerate defender of the devil