Subject: [PW!] We Don't Urn Nearly Enough For This Gig (Ghastly Busters Part II) Date: Mon, 20 Jan 2003 02:13:21 -0500 From: "Newton Haights - Ain't nothin' but a t thang" <newhaights@aol.com> Newsgroups: alt.games.nintendo.pokemon (OOC: Here it is, a good month and a half late. Goddamnit, I just couldn't make what I had interesting. Please, Dread, make this interesting again...) > "Looks like it's all in place, sir. The subjects are in the house, and the..." > "Enough. This line could be bugged. Are THEY in position?" > "Yes sir." > The sound of the dead phone line cut the ackward silence. > "But it's getting out of hand," the nervous tension in the man's voice was clear. ****** > Without warning, shadow balls pour from the sky, causing the floor to > splinter as Eran and Andrew duck for cover. Both have > their pokeballs at the ready, and all there is left to do is wait. > "Hey," Eran whispered, "What are ghost pokemon weak to?" > Andrew facepalms, and then looks at the visibly confused trainer. > "Well, other ghosts. We don't have any, so we'll have to > make do..." He reaches into his belt. "Wait...uh..." Andrew racked his brain, anxious to do... something, anything before their unseen foe shows itself. He looked back to Eran with a suggestion. "Uh...most ghosts -- er, I think -- most ghosts are part poison...right?" Eran shrugged, still confused. "..yeah. Uhm, good a hunch as any to go on...go, David!" Andrew, warily, tossed his Pokeball to the center of the room, towards a spot where the shadowballs hadn't blown holes in the floor. The ball came to a stop in the middle of the floor, and David the Kadabra materialized... with a deck of cards in front of him. David looked up from the game of solitaire he was playing, and remarked sheepishly, <...oh, you mean't ME, didn't you?> As Andrew sweatdropped, Eran started to act on his hunch, when she realized she didn't actually HAVE a psychic type on her team. "Well, I guess I'd better go with my best pokemon...GO, VUL --" "Ahehahehahehah..." The sound of laughter emanated from an unknown source and echoed throughout the room. Confused, Eran looked over to the source of the sound. A young girl...? "How'd a little girl get in here?" she thought as she went to shoo the child away. As she walked, Andrew realized something... "Wait a minute...something's not...right...how would she...couldn't -- OH MY GOD DON'T ERAN IT'S A TRAP --" Just before Eran picked up the young child, it whipped its head around and stared directly at Eran, an unearthly glow in its eyes and a demonic smirk on its face. As she stared into that ghastly visage, Eran started to get a lump in her throat, barely croaking out, "...A -- Andrew?" The "girl" floated to a spot between the two, her entire body enveloped in the unearthly glow. She pointed threateningly towards Eran... and then to Andrew...and then towards the floor. In a strangely supernatural voice, she whispered, "...you'd better...watch yourself...we're...coming for you..." Then suddenly, she disappeared in a bright flash! Eran, surprised by the flash, instinctively reached down for her pokeballs and, fumbling, threw out the first ball she had her hand on. With the velocity she threw it, it bounced off the wall and rolled a bit before it opened and materialized into... ...a Rhydon. A massive Rhydon. A massive Rhydon in the middle of an already weakened floor. "Oh...sh --" *************** Often, when one is put under sudden shock, he or she will act far different than under normal conditions. Some may act frantic. Others may become irritated. But still other people may simply become absentminded, forgetting their surroundings and losing all common sense. Eran Marona was one of those people. **************** *CRACK* The floor gave way before the two even had a chance to scream. Luckily, the room below them was built rather short, so they didn't have far to fall. They still fell far enough, however, that with the combined stress of two humans, a Kadabra, a Rhydon, and the shockwaves from the shadowballs one floor up, the floor they land on was less than sound. Andrew was the first to come to; Eran, seconds later. Andrew looked over to Eran, then realized... "Holy shit Eran, call back your Rhydon before we --" *CRACK* "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH --" *WHUMP* This time, Eran came to first. She looked around; it was dark, so she couldn't see much, but what she could see wasn't exactly much to write home about. It looked as if they had fallen into an old storage room; a grandfather clock made itself visible, but anything else stored in there was impossible to make out. If there was light available, Eran could have seen the incredible amount of dust their fall had upset; she had to settle for a lengthy bout of coughing. Once the coughing subsided, Eran started to walk over to see how Andrew had fared the fall, when the shock started to wear off and she realized, "Oh shoot, yeah...Rhydon, return." As she replaced the ball on her belt, Andrew regained consciousness. "You alright, Andrew?" "Oof...yeah, just landed on my head. It's a good thing we didn't fall far, or it might have been serious...as it is, though, I'm ok. You?" "I'm fine. Now let's get out of here...maybe we can find a way outta here...we might be able to find a room upstairs that didn't get destroyed. **************** Goldenrod Times: August 2000 "THIEF DRIVEN CRAZY BY HIS OWN LOOT" "LAVENDER - An unidentified suspect was admitted to the Laughing Oaks Mental Asylum in the Seafoam Islands last night after an attempted robbery. The suspect struck an abandoned mansion near the Radio Tower, built soon after the original Pokemon Tower was erected. It appears that nothing was actually stolen. "The police actually received word of the robbery when the suspect himself made a call to 911. Authorities refuse to release any info on the suspect, other than the fact that, as Officer Jenny told sources, 'When we arrived at the scene, there he was, by the pay phone he had called from, mumbling and in a fetal position.'" --- "I've learned my lesson...yes...I won't go back...no, I've, I've learned my lesson...the sanctity of the home ought never to be violated...no, never...NEVER...I realize now...people...people do not ENJOY, no they don't, having their property vandalized, stolen, VIOLATED...no...they don't..." "...dead people particularly so..." --M. Raivas ******************** "...and so I said, 'Golem? Damn near killed 'im!'" Andrew laughed nervously at his joke. Eran remained silent, partly because the joke wasn't really that funny or appropriate, and partly to take in the sight of the room they had just entered. Andrew noticed Eran's silence and did the same. The room seemed to be a study, except that it was unnaturally sparsely furnished for such a large room. Only a scant few items stood in the room, making the room appear transitionary, as if someone was in the middle of either moving in or out -- a contrast from the mood of the rest of the abandoned house. "This room is so...so empty," remarked Eran. "I'm getting chills just standing in it." "Yeah, I'm feeling it too..." Andrew rubbed his hands together in reflex as he walked around the room. To the left, in the corner near the entrance, was an antique, but well-maintained, writing desk. Although slightly worn from years of use, there was nary a scratch on it. A novel had been left on the desk; the title on the cover was written in an unintelligible script. On the wall to their right was a plain fireplace, filled with the ashes from fires past. A poker lay on the hearth, while the other tools were on the stand nearby. The mantle was bare, save a thick layer of dust. For the hell of it, Andrew signed his name in the dust with his finger. "Hehe..." ******************** ...the danger of Andrew's action is not to be repeated by you, dear reader. Dust is one of the most dangerous substances known to man, and one should NEVER approach it without adequate protection against disease, radiation, mites, toxins, allergies; and of course, always wear protective gloves. Andrew could have contracted many forms of horrific illness through contact with unsanitized dust. ******************** As Andrew turned from his handiwork at the mantle, his eyes lit on something he hadn't seen from the other end of the room: on a small table, near the path worn in the floor between the entrance and the exit, was a beautiful handpainted decorative urn. An intricate design, resembling a stylized bird, had been painted around the outside in the deepest of crimson and indigo, and the glaze the potter had used made the urn seem to glow in the middle of the room. It was such a beautiful urn, there was only one thing Andrew could do. An action worthy of cliche slow-motion. "YO, ERAN! CHECK OUT THIS URN!" *crrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeak* "I'll be right there!" "What the hell was..." "FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARF..." Andrew looked up toward the source of the creak. Large doors had opened up in the ceiling, and the sound of stone scraping against wood started to overpower the room. Eran, distracted by Andrew's outcry, noticed neither. As the scraping faded, a mass of stone started to appear through the hole in the ceiling. As Andrew looked toward the oddly shaped stone statue, and as it sped toward the ground, he figured out almost immediately what it was. But before he could say anything about it, he saw that the stone was not just lowering. There was a far more pressing matter to deal with. Or at least there would be, if Andrew didn't do something quick. Eran hadn't had a chance to react and was still running toward Andrew. And in the way of the statue. "ERAN --" *** TBC? -- ey gee en pee ain't nothing but a t thang, baybeh