Subject: [PW!] Supplies! Trent Stocks Up! ...Dear God, is this the title?! Ugh, what's wrong with me... Date: 08 May 2003 04:56:43 GMT From: jsolano199@aol.comlink (Jose L. Solano) Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Newsgroups: alt.games.nintendo.pokemon The old owner of the antiques shop in Cianwood City went over his records as his young assistant dusted a few items on higher shelves. They both turned their attention towards the door as a chime indicated a customer. Dressed in his black outfit and wearing his sunglasses, the customer didn't look like someone who would walk into an antiques store, let alone buy something. "Good day, sir," the owner said. "How may we help you?" "Just browsing," Trent replied. PW!- Trent Retwin "Supplies! Trent Stocks Up!" Jose L. Solano Trent leisurely walked around the store, glancing at different items. He and Vee agreed that nothing was worth touching, except for a long box tucked away behind a set of lion bookends. He picked it up, but it was locked. "What's in this box?" "Ah, that box... oh, it's been a while since I last checked. Evan, where's the key for the box?" The old man's young assistant looked in a few boxes behind the counter, and held up a silver key with a beetle of some sort on it. "The Ninjask key? Oh, my. I think I know what's in there, but let me verify it for you..." The old man set the long box on the counter and opened it. Inside were a pair of well-preserved swords. "Swords?" "Authentic ninja-to, ninja swords, sir, made in the late sixteenth century." The swords were rather shiny and appeared to be high-quality. "I'm not sure what clan this belonged to, but I do know that they are oddities among ninja swords. They were actually made by a smith using materials and techniques reserved for katana swords used by samurai warriors of the time. As far as katana strength goes, these swords are low-quality, but compared to the usual quality of ninja swords, they are suberb." "Ninja swords with the strength of samurai swords, you say?" Trent grinned. "These were the only swords of their kind ever made... Evan, I believe this came with a display stand... do you know where it is?" "Display stand? What do I need a display stand for?" Trent asked. "Well... to display the swords." Makoto Iwamatsu "No, they're fine like this." "Very well. Is there anything else I can help you with?" Inside, Vee asked Trent to look for other weapons as well, but Trent was satisfied with the high-quality swords. "No, that's all. I'll take these." "Ah, very good, sir. Evan, would you ring that up, please?" Evan went to check the record on the swords. "This will only be a moment, sir... if you're going to write a check, please make it out to Makoto Iwamatsu..." "Uh... check?" "You will be paying with cash, then? Credit card? We accept all major credit car..." As Evan reached for the cash register, Trent unsheathed one of the swords and swung it down on the counter. The old man looked down to see that his young assistant's hand had been severed. "Hmm, you weren't lying about the quality," Trent remarked as he looked down. "But I said I'll TAKE these." "Somehow, I knew you would say that..." the old man said. His assistant wasn't sure what was worse, that his hand had been cut off, that his boss made a joke about it, or that he'd probably have to clean up the blood himself. Trent sheathed the sword and put it back in the box with the other one. Before he left, he turned back to the shop owner and said, "By the way, the name's Retwin." "Retwin? I'll remember that, then... er... have a nice day..." "Trent Retwin... you don't recognize it?" "I'm sorry, but no." "...convicted in Kanto for sixteen murders, wanted in Johto for involvement in the death of three Rockets and two attempted murders at the Whirl Cup?" "I'm sorry, I don't keep up with the news." "I'm the most dangerous criminal alive right now! I just stole two expensive swords from you and maimed your employee! You can't tell me you're not going to tell the story of this encounter at parties!" "I don't really attend many parties." "Tell your grandchildren?" "They don't want to hear about it." "Gaah! I'm wanted but I'm not famous?! How am I supposed to get any respect?" "Well, you've just committed an armed robbery... Evan lost his hand. It's a step in the right direction." "Yeah... but senseless violence is... well, it's fun, but it doesn't make a very good story, you know? I like to have some drama. It makes for a better news story. If anyone asks, tell them this kid owed me money from betting on underground Pokémon battles, and that it was money he was going to use to buy medicine for his sick baby son... no, daughter, sick baby daughter." "I'll do that... Redwin, was it?" "RETWIN!" As he was about to leave, Trent spotted something out of the corner of his eye. A silver Pokéball mounted on a shiny black stand, removed from the mess of the rest of the shop. "Hey wait... what's inside that Pokéball?" "Er... it's empty," the old man cautiously said. "It's just there for decoration, it has absolutely no value." "No, really. What's inside?" "Pidgey." "No, really." "Mew." "No, really. I'm being serious." "Skunks." "Dammit, old man!" "A hot dog." "You want to lose your hand, too?" "Alright, alright," the old man said. "You'll understand my concern, but that Pokéball contains a very rare Pokémon. It was a gift to a famous trainer from Lance, the league champion. I honestly can't remember which famous trainer it was, but I tell people it was Gary Oak. Anyway, this famous trainer gave it to a local trainer when he decided to retire from the training business, and that local trainer sold it to me because he needed the money to start up a gym-" "Just tell me what it is!" "An Aerodactyl." "An Aero... hey, I could use one of those! Mind if I take it?" "Er... yes, I would." "Well, I'm gonna take it anyway." Trent took the Pokéball. "You sure you don't mind?" "No, not at all," the old man said. Trent shrugged and started out the door. Suddenly, a bullet hole appeared on the door frame. Trent turned around to see the old man holding a gun. "Well, just a little." "Okay, if that's the way you want it, old man..." Trent dropped the Pokéball and drew his newly acquired swords. "I'm pretty deadly with these." "Bring it on, punk!" Trent jumped over the counter as the old man tried to fire at him. Evan was caught in the line of fire and took a bullet to the shoulder and stomach. Trent jumped over Evan and flew at the old man with both blades drawn. "Hah!" the old man yelled; Trent was making himself an easy target. "Wha-?!" Trent vanished. Moments later, the old man lost his weapon hand. Trent reappeared, holding his sword inches from the old man's eyes. "What's my name?" "...Retwin..." "Good. Remember to give the police a good story." Trent sheathed his swords and walked out. Vee was not happy. Inside, Vee demanded to know why he didn't kill the old man and his assistant. Trent was still in control, and as long as he had control, everything was ultimately his decision. "Don't you get it, Vee?" Trent said to him. "The more notorious I am, the more chances I have to kill! If the police are after me, do you expect me to go down without a fight?" Vee reluctantly agreed to go along with his plan. Outside the shop, Ashura waited, smoking a joint. "Alright, I got some swords and an Aerodactyl. I think it's time we get to work." "Slash." "You know, I really don't like you when you're stoned." Jose L. Solano ------------------------------- A devious, degenerate defender of the devil