From: "Dreadite" <bad_judgement@hotmail.com> Subject: [PW!][OAV] Chapter 2! Date: Friday, May 07, 2004 1:05 AM Pokewars! OAV: Episode 1 By Jose and Dreadite From above, the forest to the east of Mauville seemed perfectly quiet. Those inside the forest however would have a different opinion. Two people ran headlong through the forest, trampling over twigs, rocks, and various obstacles in their way as they hurried along. Oddly enough, for people in such a hurry, they kept stopping to fix their leader’s hair. “Oh no, I think we’ve lost it! Did you see it?” ”Aw, MAN,” the voice of an exhausted man intoned, “Of course we lost it, you kept stopping to fix your hair!” ”But it’s my job as a reporter to look good in all the shots!” the female voice replied, before the camera crew finally broke out of the brush, bringing into view the source, caught in the act of brushing a wrinkle out of her otherwise pristinely pressed skirt. The woman gave an obviously exasperated sigh, and pushed her narrow-rimmed glasses up on her nose, brushing aside her light brown hair as she did so. “Do I look all right? Those hair ties never stay put.” ”As nice as ever, Laura.” The voice of the cameraman intoned. “Do you have some amazing power to not get beaten up by this inhospitable terrain?” ”Well, I just ran behind you… oh, we’re ON?” Laura’s expression became panicked, and she checked her hair one last time, before standing up straight and putting on a surprisingly dignified air. “We’re here somewhere outside Mauville, and the story of the century just occurred! A giant pokemon attacked the city for no apparent reason, and then fled as a gang of pokemon thieves appeared! At great risk to myself and my crew, we’ve followed this unknown monster into this very forest, but it appears it’s too quick for our intrepid crew. This is Laura Sall, Channel 7 news.” ”Thanks, Laura. Stay tuned to Channel 7 for more breaking coverage. Now, to Mitch, who’s outside the Pokemon League Headquarters with champion Ash Ketchum…” “Now, where did that thing go?” The moment the red “on air” light went blank; Laura was a frenzy of action. “Where are WE?” Her cameraman gave a shrug, and looked around. The forest appeared to thin out down the slope ahead of them, leading to what appeared to be a damp, jungle environs. He couldn’t help but think he recognized the place as he looked at the mountains looming ahead of them, past the overgrowth. ”Hey, isn’t that the weather station!? I knew it, we took a wrong turn.” Laura started to run back to where they’d come from. “It headed towards the desert, I’m certain of it. It’s like an old legend my grandmother used to read to me, and besides, we don’t have any leads!” ***** A Magma agent ran through the woods, panting and desperate to get to safety. He had wandered away from a small group that Team Magma had sent to liberate some "imprisoned" Numel in possession of a Hoenn ranch, and he was being chased away from them. He looked back as he ran and a shadow flew across the moon, emitting a high-pitched reptilian scream. He had already released his Poochyena to get word to the others, but until they could come for him, he had to do his best to stay alive. Desperately, the Magma agent released his Torkoal to cover him. After releasing a cloud of smoke around it, the Torkoal produced flames around its shell and they grew into a spinning, towering pillar of fire. The shadow in the sky was caught off-guard and nearly thrown off the trail, but it retaliated with a Hyperbeam. The fiery tornado disappeared and the shadow returned to its hunt. The Magma agent had run out of Pokémon to use in his defense. The only thing that kept him going was the hope that his Poochyena had returned to the rest of the team, and that they would come for him. A white beam fly past him, missing him by inches, and though he was already exhausted, his pace quickened. Whatever was chasing him, it was almost on top of him, and he wouldn't be able to evade it much longer. He saw them out of the corner of his eyes: two members of Team Aqua, a man in regular Aqua attire and a woman in black, throwing Pokéballs into his path. The Magma agent skidded so sharply that he fell onto his back and he looked up to see a Tentacruel and a Blastoise looming over him. He spun onto his stomach and started to get up to run in the opposite direction, but that way was also blocked. The shadow, an Aerodactyl carrying a man in black and gray, landed and screamed at him, showing him the rows of teeth, sharp as knives, attached to jaws with more than enough power to crush his skull like a walnut. "What do you want?" the Magma agent asked shakily. "Tie him up," Trent Retwin commanded from his Aerodactyl. Three other Aquas appeared from the woods, all male. As two of them held the Magma grunt down, the other tied his hands to his back and his ankles to each other. "What's your name?" "I'm not telling you filthy Aqua scum!" the Magma agent yelled at him. Trent jumped off his Aerodactyl and kicked the man in the stomach. "What's your name?!" "That's for me to know and you-" the man stopped when he realized just how easily he had set himself up. "We'll find out, then. Mushiburo." Mushiburo, the woman in the form-fitting black jumpsuit, waved to her Tentacruel and it grappled the Magma agent, tightening its tentacles around him with a powerful Wrap attack. The man struggled and winced, trying to keep himself from screaming, until at last he gave in. "Harold! My name is Harold!" Mushiburo's Tentacruel released Harold and let him drop to the ground, gasping for air. Another female Aqua, dressed in standard attire, joined the group, carrying a muzzled Poochyena. Harold cursed to himself. "Get his Pokéballs, get his Pokémon in there and get back to the dock," Trent commanded. "I'm taking this garbage with me." "Yes, sir," Mushiburo said, acknowledging Trent's temporary leadership. She signaled the five Aquas and they followed her into the woods. Trent picked the bound Harold up and threw him on the back of his Aerodactyl and secured him there. Harold was more than a little surprised when Trent ordered his Aerodactyl to grab him by the arms and take off carrying him underneath. ***** Laura brushed the dust off the top of a shelf of books, checking the numbers on the bottom of the spines of the books as she walked by them. She thought it was quite a stroke of luck that the Mauville public library hadn’ t been demolished in the fight with Regirock that had occurred early in the day, and she wasn’t about to pass up a stroke of luck without trying to continue that into a full-fledged streak. She reached the end of the shelf, and turned the corner into an even mustier area of the library. She wrinkled her nose at the musty smell of books. ”One eighty, one ninety five… aha, two hundred! It’s got to be around here somewhere. I hate this whole Decimal thing.” Laura knelt down in front of a shelf labeled ‘200 – Religion and Mythology’ to look at the lower shelf, and pulled out a musty old tome. The cover of the book was battered and worn, and the title was almost incomprehensible because of wear and tear. She opened the cover to take a look at the checkout record sheet, and shook her head. “What, I was the last person to check this out? That was over twenty years ago,” she said in a disappointed, almost disgusted voice, and picked up the book. “Well, at least it’s still here. I hope this is the right book.” Laura gently closed the cover of the book and walked over to the reference reading area where her cameraman was already perusing ‘Pokemon Daily Magazine’. Laura sat down next to him in the highly uncomfortable fold out chair, and started to read the book. After about fifteen minutes of page turning, she started to get discouraged, until a paragraph caught her eye. ”AHA!” She shouted, holding the book above her head. The general reply was a muffled “keep it down!” or “quiet!” from the rest of the library’s populace, but she paid them no mind. What do they know of reporting genius anyhow? “Todd, Todd, take a look at this,” Laura said in a much more subdued tone, “It’s the segment I was telling you about. Listen to this.” “An old Houen legend, passed down through many generations, tells the story of an intrepid band of heroes who stopped three rampaging gods from the sky. They were sealed away in tombs relevant to their elements of Earth, Frost, and Metal, so that they would be unable to break free. The gods are said to bring prosperity to whoever manages to find and pray at all three of the shrines erected to house them.” Laura closed the book, and grinned. “That’s obviously what we saw earlier today.” ”Yeah, so?” Todd was obviously skeptical. ”So? It says where the other ones are! Well, at least where the legends say they are. It goes into more detail. Let’s check this book out, we’ll read on the train. We’ve got a shrine to explore!” Laura skipped to the front desk, looking pleased with herself. Todd kept up the rear, giving apologetic glances to the other library patrons. ‘Odd’ he thought to himself, ‘They keep telling us to be quiet… can’t they hear the sirens and things outside? I guess they’re too absorbed in their reading to do anything about it.’ ***** Oddly, Trent had ordered that Harold be fed and taken care of. Mushiburo had tried to argue, but Trent insisted that Harold be rested and healthy. In the meantime, Trent had locked himself in his quarters, or what should have been his quarters. All furniture had been removed, and the only actual items in the room were a punching bag and a set of cushions against the corner of the wall, where Ashura sat, eating a roasted Wurmple, near Trent's trench coat. There were originally four lights in the room, but three had been smashed out, leaving just one lighting the corner opposite to where Ashura sat. "Slash?" Ashura asked, digging through one of Trent's pockets. "Go ahead. I need to work off some energy..." Trent threw his fist against the punching bag, knocking it back so far that it nearly hit the ceiling. Though he was tired from the flight on Aerodactyl, he insisted on exercising. Trent rarely removed his shirt, hiding his scarred upper body, but in the presence of the only being he trusted, he wasn't concerned. He usually wasn't self-conscious, but there was one scar on him that he never let anyone other than Ashura see... not that anyone else had ever seen him without his shirt. It was also one of the few scars he knew the origin of. Many had occurred before his transformation and he had no recollection of the events that produced them. "Sandslash, sandslash," Ashura nodded. There was a knock at the door. Ashura picked up Trent's shirt, vest and trench coat and prepared to toss them over to him. Trent waved his hand. "I'm on a roll with this bag, don't interrupt me. Come in." Mushiburo walked in and shut the door behind her. Trent didn't pay too much attention and continued hitting the punching bag. "The Magma grunt is ready to be interrogated," Mushiburo reported. "How many hours did he sleep?" Trent asked. "Nine... have you been punching that thing all night?" "Maybe." Ashura finished the last bit of his Wurmple and walked over to Mushiburo. He pointed to Trent as he pounded the punching bag again. "I'll be right there. You can leave." "You have a lot of scars..." "Dammit, what did I just say?" "On your back, on your chest, on your stomach... that's a really nasty one there." "Will you leave already?" Mushiburo looked down at Ashura, who shook his head and pointed again. "The door's right there." "It looks deep. How did you get it?" "So you want the story do you?!" Trent punched the bag again. His expression was angrier than before. "That's where he got me. There, and the neck! I can still feel the sharp steel... I can feel it every time I think about that day! I endured Hell that day! HELL!" Trent began punching the bag faster. Trent's meaning of Hell was completely lost on Mushiburo, who didn't know very much about him. "And he's toying with me! He knows I'm after him! He's hiding from me! He's mocking me! He's playing an evil game with me, but he won't trap me this time! He thinks I'm the same as I was that day... I'm stronger now! Stronger than him, stronger than anyone! I'm turning the board against him! I'll scar up that pretty little face of his! I'll mangle his body until every joint is turned the other way! I'll paint his grave with his blood! He'll go through Hell this time! Let him be a slave to a Pikachu with a mask! See how he likes it! See if he thinks it's fair! It's more than fair! It's exactly what he deserves! I'LL HAVE THAT AIR CONDITIONER AND HIS HEAD ON MY WALL!" Trent stopped and noticed that he had been punching an empty bag in his rage. The sand had flowed out and now surrounded his boots. "I was just asking, no need to get upset," Mushiburo told him. "The prisoner is waiting in the main hold." "No, take him to the lower deck," Trent told her, slipping his shirt and vest back on. "I'm gonna mess with him for a bit." Harold the captive Magma sat in a comfortable chair with a blanket and a cup of hot cocoa on the lowest deck of the oil rig. Team Aqua stood around him, not completely sure why he was being treated so well. "...You gave him hot chocolate?!" Trent asked when he arrived. "You said to treat him like a guest," Mushiburo replied. "No, dammit!" Trent took the cup and smashed it against the floor. "This is supposed to be an interrogation!" "We're just following orders!" "Get him to the ladder!" Harold was escorted to a ladder leading into a pit of sorts- a rectangular opening in the deck with nothing below it except a few out-of-reach catwalks and below them, the sea. Nobody was really sure why this thing was there. Many assumed to was used to board ships that docked directly underneath, but considering that the Corsola-covered stilts supporting the rig were too close together to allow anything but a small motorboat to pass, they weren't too sure. Mushiburo stayed on the deck with the rest of the Aquas and Ashura the Sandslash, watching Harold climb down the ladder from the safety of guard-rails above. Trent had climbed down through a stairway inside the rig to reach the catwalks and stood eye-level with Harold, who was several feet away from him and had stopped climbing down when he realized there was nowhere to go. "So... what's up?" Harold asked. "Hey, Harold. Rested up?" "Yes, thank you. You know, Team Aqua's not as bad as the higher-ups said you were." "You don't say." Trent held out his hand. "Harold, what is Team Magma planning?" "Whoa... you're not gonna shoot me down from here, are you?" "I'm unarmed." Not that Trent was being honest, but he didn't intend to use his weapons anyway. "Tell me about that new Pokémon you have." "The boss's Blaziken? It's not that new, reall-" "The rock-type." Harold almost lost his grip on the ladder. "I want to know about the rock-type you have." "Uh... er... I think one of our executives, Tabitha, has a Golem." "It's more important than a Golem and you know exactly what I'm talking about." Harold felt himself growing heavier. "Do you have Regirock?" "Regi-what?" "That big blue rock thing." "It's brownish-orange, actual- aw, crap." "HAH! What are you doing with it? Do you have outside help?" "We... uh... we captured it and we're... uh... using it to destroy cities!" "Well I already know that! Any moron who watches the news could tell me that!" Trent's hand tensed and Harold grew heavier. "What about the long-haired man?" "What long-haired man?" "The one you're working with!" "I'm not working with anyone!" Harold's hand slipped for a moment. He held back onto the ladder and realized that his strength was quickly slipping from him. "Wha-?" "I've been sapping your energy since we started talking, Harold. You can tell me what I want to know now and keep enough strength to climb back up that ladder or you can drag it out and..." Trent stopped to consider what cliché he should use. "...Sleep with the fishes in a watery grave!" "You're lying! Humans can't use Mega Drain!" Harold felt a tug at his shoulders and his grip loosened. He fell for a foot before catching the ladder again and clinging to it desperately. "I'll talk! I'll talk!" "Well hurry it up!" "...Team Magma has Regirock!" Harold quickly said. "Dreadite is working with us! Dreadite controls Regirock!" "Dreadite! Where is he?! WHAT IS HE DOING WITH REGIROCK?!" "I don't know where he is!" Harold tightened his grip. "They don't tell me anything! My rank is too low! I've told you everything!" Gravity was pulling Harold down and he could no longer resist it. With a wailing scream he slipped from the ladder and plunged into the ocean below. Trent sneered and pounded a guard-rail in anger. "Ashura! Get me another prisoner!" Trent yelled. Ashura, who was standing with the other Aquas in the deck above, shook his head. "Oh. That was our only one. What do we have to work on?" "Sandslash, sandslash, Sandslash sandslash Sandslashslash... slash." "At least we've confirmed it. We'll find a Team Magma base and get more information from someone else. Hopefully someone who actually KNOWS stuff." Trent looked down into the water below. The waves were beating against the legs of the oil rig. Even if Harold had survived that, the Sharpedo infesting the water would have finished him. Trent shook his head and made his way back to the deck. ***** A large fishing ship headed southward from Hoenn, looking much like any other boat passing by. Archie, leader of Team Aqua, stood in the bridge with two of his best executives, Matt and Shelly, as well as a few lesser members at the controls. Archie had a cell phone firmly planted to his ear as he stroked the head of a Walrein. "And that's all he told you? I see," Archie said to Trent. "Yes... yeah, you're in charge, Retwin. I've left the team in your hands. We have other business to take care of on this end, don't call us, we'll call you..." Archie paused for a few seconds. "Ah, Mushiburo! Retwin's not pushing you too hard, is he? Just fine, just fine. Yes, he told me. It's no worse than we expected. What? No, Shelly took care of that. Yes. Yes. Don't worry, Mushiburo, if there's anything Retwin knows, it's Dreadite. I have total confidence that he'll give us the upper hand against Team Magma. Yes, you get back to that. We'll stay in touch." Archie closed his cell phone and put it away in a pocket inside his jacket. "Okay, so maybe Retwin DID survive a battle with Dreadite," Shelly mused, "But I still think it was dumb luck. Matt and I looked over his history, and he seems to have failed as many missions as he's completed." "Yes, and what caused those failures?" Archie asked her. "'Outside interference,'" Shelly replied. "It can't be his fault something comes along and screws with his plan half the time. Regardless, it's more important that we get this taken care of. Even if Retwin fails us, we'll still have this in our favor." Shelly and Matt looked at each other nervously. "Regice, Regirock... and Registeel." "Maybe Team Forest has Registeel," Matt said. "I'm not doing to dignify that with a response," Archie told him without looking at him. ***** Garret looked at his watch impatiently, putting his other hand into his jacket with an idle movement. Maxie was late for the meeting he arranged. Garret thought it was unlike the Team Magma leader to be so tardy. Some of the other executives seemed to be impatient, also glancing at their watches or fumbling through their papers to pass the time. Garret, on the other hand, was no executive. He was one of Team Rocket’s best, and he didn’t appreciate being left hanging like this. He had big fish to fry! Giovanni had personally assigned him to track down Dreadite and determine if he was indeed planning to go rogue. And if he was, or had already done so, Garret would make sure he didn’t manage. Though Garret wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to go about doing that particular feat, it didn’t bother him overly much. He stood up with a startling motion, causing several of the executives to look up. ”What’s going on?” one of the executives asked, with a skeptical glance in Garret’s direction. (Bringing in an outsider… what was Maxie thinking?) ”I’m sick of waiting here. If your organization is always this slow, no wonder Team Aqua’s gotten a hold of one of these legendary pokemon weapons already! I bet even Team Forest’s got one of their own, and they haven’t even been founded yet,” Garret said with a snarl, slamming a palm down on the desk. “I’m going to go find Maxie. You all wait here.” Garret threw open the door to the conference room, and barreled past Maxie, who had been waiting outside, arms full of slides. He took about ten steps, and then whirled around. “… wait, you were out here all this time?” ”No one opened the door,” Maxie replied with a shrug. “It’s automatically locked from the inside, so that once a conference is started, it can’t be interrupted. I knocked, you know.” Garret paused. (What a stupid way to secure a conference… locking out the speaker.) “Oh, that makes sense.” Maxie raised an eyebrow. “In any case, let’s get this started.” He held open the door as Garret walked by, trying to put on a face that hid his dissatisfaction with Team Magma’s methods as he sat back down in his seat. (It’s amazing this team’s managed to form itself, let alone become a thorn in Team Rocket’s side. I hope the boss is right about using them as pawns.) Maxie walked over to the wall, and placed the slides he was carrying into the computer nearby. “Gentlemen, this meeting is one of great importance. While our last encounter with Regirock was a disaster, we’ve learned a valuable lesson. That is, the location of one of the shrines to the Legendary weapons.” ”What does that gain us?” one of the executives questioned, tapping a finger idly against the oak table they were all seated around. ”The locations of the other two weapons. Of course, we know Aqua has one, but there are three of them. And I know for a fact that the shrines were laid out so if you knew the location of one, you could deduce the location of the other three! Also, we’re certain that Regirock returned to its shrine, probably to gather energy after its fight with us. Our scientists…” Garret clapped his hands together, and stood up. “Great. Let’s forget this BS meeting, and focus on the real issue, all right? Let’s go get this thing. Every minute we spend here, Team Aqua is using its knowledge to deduce the same things we are, except they’re holding the trump card already.” As Garret walked out of the room with barely a shrug to Maxie, he clenched his fist, striking out at the wall the moment the door closed. As the blood dripped through his fingers, he began to smile. The reflection of Garret’s smile in the metal wall could terrify even the most hardened soul with its falseness, and the intent that appeared in his grin like a ghostly evil on his lips. “Time for round two. This time, you won’t be so lucky… all Pokemon, even gods, can be used to serve me.” Then Garret paused for a moment, and coughed, catching what he had said. “Er, Team Rocket that is.” As Garret heard the noise of the door opening, he whirled around to stand at attention as Maxie walked through the conference room doors. “Ready to go? During that last fight, one of my men managed to land a tracing beacon on Regirock. We’ve got him.” “What about Dreadite?” ”He’ll show up. I hear from a very reliable source that he’s actually been to one of the shrines in the last week.” ”Has he?” Garret’s voice wavered for a moment. (What if he’s already gotten to it before me!?!) ”What was that?” Maxie paused to look back at Garret, with a curious expression on his face. The noise of readying helicopters was starting to drown out all the sounds with the whirling mechanical noise of man-made flight, as he waited for the reply to his question. ”Oh, nothing,” Garret replied loudly over the din. “Just thinking about what we’re going to do when we capture the god.” ***** On a secluded and snow-covered island, a tall figure dressed in a black cloak stood, gathering a small layer of freshly fallen snow on his shoulders and head. A trail of footprints behind him stretched into the distance in the softly-packed snow, slowly being filled by the younger snowflakes. He raised a hand to his face to brush the snow out of his face, and stared bleakly into the gloom with a pair of strikingly weary-looking blue eyes. Then the figure stretched, his arms reaching into the sky, before he started silently walking towards a large, glacier-like looming shadow in the distance. The wind started to howl around him as he ducked into a small valley-like rock formation, and threw back the cloak, revealing his long brown hair. “The storm’s getting worse.” The figure drew the cloak back over his head, and kept on walking with a much more determined step. It was as if that simple realization had made him recognize the haste in which his unknown errand demanded him to move. He drew himself up from the shelter, and starting to walk with an untiring pace towards the towering cliff of ice, as the wind threw snow around him. From under his cloak, the cooing of a bird could be faintly heard, carried away by the wind. The cliff’s edge was sheer and unforgiving for any poor soul determined to climb it. The cloaked figure stared silently up at the massive imposing shape. After a moment, he began to run his fingers along the sheet of ice, as if searching for some hidden texture against the smooth icy wall. The snow drifted down off his cloak, and against the wall, each gust of wind or the briefest crushing noise of snow underfoot seemed to boom and echo off into the distance. After what seemed like an eternal pause, the figure lowered his gaze, removing his right glove and pressing his bare hand against the cliff. He began to mumble something under his breath, tracing the figures of an ancient hieroglyphic code against the rock hard ice wall. The markings he ran his fingers over seemed to glow underneath his touch, like a ray of sunlight shooting forth to brighten the overwhelming darkness of the cloudy, snow-storming skies, and then the wall began to crack open. The ice in front of the man melted into nothingness, a gust of heatless vapor blowing past him, swirling around the cloaked figure as he descended into the darkness of the doorway that was now visible. The mist seemed to stop as he crossed the threshold into darkness, and slowly began to form the impassable slick wall that it had been born from. The darkness had swallowed the figure whole. To Be Continued. --Dreadite (with Jose Solano)