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Traitors of the Cast
Tweet Topic Started: Jan 9 2007, 03:09 PM (322 Views)
Colbert Jan 9 2007, 03:09 PM Post #1
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COLBY-BABY
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Although I do not expect to get many responses, since most fanfics don't, I thought that I would at least try my newest one out.

TRAITORS OF THE CAST
The untold birth of Team Galactic

~*~*~ L’ombre, 1998, 12:40 AM ~*~*~

I stared back at the cities, watching it burn, eyes welled in tears, my pupils burning as the building collapsed along with all of the horrors that they had ever encompassed, freeing me, I suppose, but also reminding me of times I had longed to forget. I sidestepped into the thicket beside the road, and families stared, pitying me as they ran away from the wreckage, and there I wept to myself; I fingered the knife in my hands, stained with blood and tears, as I prepared to end it all, right there.

Medical jargon was racking my brain now, coupled with violent images of deathly syringes stabbed heartlessly into my bloodstream from prior months. How long had it been? The tortuous time spent as a lab rat for black scientists and their insane psyches sped through as the second most prominent thought, trailing only Nuzleaf...

Where was Nuzleaf? Is she still in there? It’s past midnight, she’s probably dead now, but I have to go back. The foreboding night sky caused by the nightmarish smoke dared me to stop, and to turn around, but I headed back into the dead city, denying my common sense and my fears. She would have done it for me, I know she would have… I tossed the knife to the side of the road, and wearily treaded back towards the horrible, pungent fumes that wafted towards me.

Charred bodies of older Pokemon littered the floor, Absols and Zangooses the most common of the corpses. I continued on, dodging bodily remains and debris, now indistinguishable between each other. A horribly singed, ominous appearing sign stood next to me, black char covering most of the text, leaving only a faded, foreboding “ntwire Laboratory.” I slowly turned away, heart pounding of nervousness and grief, my lungs numbed from the pungent fumes and my short nervous breath, and my brain aching of past memories, trying to catch a glimpse of something else, only to see another dead Zangoose at my feet. I nearly died stepping over it.

I whipped around, hearing a faint scream in the distance. No one was there. What’s wrong with me? I clutched my head, and felt something wet. I was reeling in pain, so I withdrew my hand, now covered in my own blood. Not now, I can’t take this. Not now.

The minutes ran into the hours. How much longer… but I need to find her. I need to find Nuzleaf. I kept talking to myself, repeating that line over and over, realizing I had nothing more to say. The intoxicating fumes of smoke, give them a few more minutes, and I’m down. I’ll die out here.

I need to find her. I need to find Nuzleaf.

This is worthless. I’m going to die, for someone else who is probably dead.

A dead bush rustled a mere several yards away. Was that her? I ran towards the bush and saw her, reaching out for her hand as we met eyes once more before we would die, but I grasped air only, falling down into the leftovers of the explosion, until I was as dead as those surrounding me.

And then she came, right there, right as I was down. “Nuzleaf?”

“L’ombre…”

I wish I could say more. If only I could say something other than the goddamned name of my goddamned species. “L’ombre.” I reached out my leafy hand, and she grasped it with the warm, barky fingers so common in her species. She hoisted me up, off the ground and out of the ruins, into a new life. I looked into her face which was now deeply scarred from what just happened, and began to cry once more.

And, as we ran away, leaving the city and all of the thoughts concerning the past few months behind us, I remembered why I had ever ventured out there to find her.

~*~*~ Bo Brooks, 12:20 AM, Abbott Town ~*~*~

Even nature’s tranquil seasons peacefully starting and ending, autumn’s tumbling leaves withering into the winter soon to come, could not pry me out from this mental feeling of ambiguity. The scarlet leaves from fall were now barely visible underneath the forming heaps of snow on the now frozen grass, and as every new snowflake fell, the leaves, my favorite part of nature’s year, died with me.

Nothing exciting today happened here at school, at all, save for watching a few more leaves be smothered from the slightly oppressive hands of falling snow. God, how I loved those leaves too, and every year when I would struggle to finish off the calendar and start anew, my leaves would die, ominously, and always only a few weeks before I could finish.

My Lombre, Rufus, slept in the corner of the room. If anything could have ever kept me going, it would be Rufus, always so peaceful, an incredible dreamer, seeing things in his mind that must take multiple hours to play out, as he consistently daydreams during days like today. “Come on, Rufus.” He jumped up to my desk beside me, and I softly petted his wet, leafy head to show him my true affection.

“Bo!” My teacher, James Pangbourn, glared at my desk in the back left of the class with frozen eyes. “You know the rules about Pokemon inside class!” I did, but I couldn’t give a s**t about his rules now; I never have in the past, and, mostly, his rules are pointless. “Bring Rufus up here; I’m afraid you have no choice.”

No way would I ever see myself handing over Rufus, my precisely trained, genius Pokemon. Rufus looked up inquisitively, and I only turned down to sweep him behind my desk, showing that not only would I never give Pangbourn my Pokemon, I wouldn’t even him look at it. “I really have no choice but to say no, Pangbourn, sorry.”

The entire freshman class in there just about turned around and stared at me. Pangbourn walked up to my desk slowly, trampling the tiles and smothering the beautiful autumn leaves that other students had tracked in, as he looked directly into my eyes, trying to blaze a trail into my subconscious. I stared strong and tenacious, eyes never faltering as I watched his forehead fall deeper and deeper into Hell’s color.

The wind coming through the open window picked up the autumn leaves that Pangbourn killed, and it peacefully looped swirled them throughout the air as I marveled how their crunched bodies could still look so much more beautiful than anything else in the entire room. My leaves, still living through this demolition of their structure, gave me the perseverance through this tough time of year to fight back.

Pangbourn began to back off as I refused to falter. It had almost been a minute now, and I wondered what the rest of the class was thinking about this disruption. He stepped back, regained composure, and walked back towards his desk, again crushing autumn’s pride underneath his steps.

But the leaves wouldn’t give up, still flowing so attractively in the wind, refusing to accept their fate, and refusing to fall into the preset cast that destiny chose. I smiled, for the first time today, but I didn’t grin largely; I only smirked, reveling in the denying of events and original, autonomic actions that this morning has so generously offered.
 
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