I know I'm already writing a fic, but I really like this idea, and I can write both stories at once. Anyways, this is a pokemon themed noir story, and it is not really all that appropriate. It has kinda graphic violence, drugs, language, and sex (not REALLY explicit sex, but sex nonetheless). I would really appreciate it if you would comment on it, no matter what you say. If you think it is a bad or mediocre story, then I REALLY want you to comment on it. If I don't know that I need to improve, then you will be stuck reading crap for a really long time. Also, I'll update it when I have the next chapter written. If I set a deadline, I'll miss is, so I'm not going to. Anyways, without further ado, here is The Seventeen:
Chapter 1: Death.
I look up at the scyther standing over me, arm raised to cut me down. I’m crouching on the ground, back against a wall, clutching my leg. My life flashes before my eyes.
I never should have accepted this job. I knew it was dangerous, but I was just happy to get such an important job. Stupid me. For a mission this important they should have sent Looker. There was only one reason why they would send a junior inspector.
I was expendable.
Well, knowing that now isn’t going to help me out much. I should have refused when they asked me to take this case. I should have known that expendability was the only reason why a junior inspector like me would be assigned to investigate death matches, but I didn’t. I also should have known that a simple raid of one of the illegal arenas would be suicide, but once again, I was stupid.
It had seemed so simple five minutes earlier. Charge it, point some guns at people, and arrest everyone I see. I honestly didn’t expect them to point guns back, or for the traps that killed my backup. But most of all, I didn’t expect their pokemon to be so vicious.
My partner was the first one killed, her head turning into a cloud of blood as a hitmonchan nailed her with a mach punch. Then chaos reigned as pokemon fought pokemon, and human shot human. I was facing off against the ringleader, a tall hulking man with a large scar on his face. He ran to open the cage behind him right as I shot him. I should have killed him, but he was wearing body armor under his clothes. He pulled open the lock, and I shot him again, this time in the head. Still, I was too late.
The cage door swung open and a large scyther flew out. I shot it a few times to no effect, then I threw out sneasel. No moment in my life was ever so bad as seeing that scyther turn my poor sneasel into mincemeat. I just stared in shock and almost broke down crying. Big mistake.
The scyther, having torn my poor sneasel to shreds, it went looking for something else to kill. It saw me. I looked into its eyes and saw something I hadn’t ever seen in a pokemon’s eyes before. Hatred. Not of me, not even of humans in general, but of the whole world. This thing in front of me wasn’t even a pokemon anymore, but a machine bent on killing the world.
I ran. Had I stayed with the others and fought on, we might have won, but I ran away. The scythe followed, but didn’t try to overtake me, savoring my fear. Finally, I turned and found a dead end. I looked behind me and saw the scyther slowly walking down the hall, blades glinting in the semi-darkness. Suddenly, it slashed downwards, cutting my leg open and leaving me on the ground, and then it raised its arm over it’s head.
And now, I’m going to die. I close my eyes and wait for the blade to fall.
That wasn’t the sound of me dying. I peer out from beneath one of my eyelids, and get a big surprise. Where the scyther was, there is now a metagross. Or I guess I should say there is a metagross’s foot. I can still see one of the scyther’s arms sticking out from underneath it, twitching weakly. I then stare at the foot. It’s actually taller than me, at over six feet, and seems to be about as wide around as a trash can. I can see the leg sticking through the wall to my right, where it broke through to smush the scyther. Now the only question is if it killed the scyther to save me, or because it wanted me to itself.
A psychic force grabs me and flings me through the wall. It hurts, but now I’m outside, and the fighting in the distance has lessened. I stare up at the metagross. It’s huge, the biggest pokemon I’ve ever seen. It has a series of scratches next to its left eye that resemble the Roman numeral XVI. It stares down at me for a moment, then disappears. I’m left sitting in an empty alley with one leg cut open.
I hear footsteps coming my direction from inside the building. I turn and run, hoping my leg will hold out. It doesn’t matter who it is who is coming, I can’t be found by either of them. If it’s the people who run the death matches, they will kill me as soon as they see me. I think my comrades would do the same. I abandoned them to die.
I decide to hide. When I ran away, I forfeited my right to be a police officer, which means I can be held accountable for anyone I killed. The maximum penalty for murder is death, and because of how many police officers died because of my stupid raid, I have no doubt what a judge would say.
I have some friends in the underworld, contacts I made who don’t know that I’m a cop. I also could sell information about the force for my safety, but I don’t want to betray them any more than I already have. I also need to get another pokemon.
After a couple of blocks, my leg gives out and I stumble. I need a doctor before I can think about anything else. I wander through back allies before stopping in front of an herbal medicine shop. It’s really a front for an illegal clinic where people on the run can get cheap medical care. They don’t ask any questions, and they only take cash.
An hour later, my leg is patched up and I’m out of there. I spent most of my money on my leg, so I need work. I walk around the red light district, looking for a place where there are sure to be drugs. I find one called “The Flaming Oddish” and walk up to the door. Sure enough, a bouncer steps out and blocks my way. I slam my fist into his gut, my knee in his crotch, and the flat of my other had into his face. While he lies on the ground, I kick him until he starts crying. I feel sorry for him, but I need his job.
A short man steps out from the crack-house. He asks whether I want to be the new bouncer, and I say yes. He then asks whether I want to be paid in drugs or money. I say money. I might be a criminal now, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve given up all my values.
I stand in the doorway for six hours, kicking out people who get too high, and keeping a sharp eye out for cops. Not that any cops would come here. Everyone’s given up on this section of Jubilife. Ever since the gym closed down and DevonCorp went out of business, this city has steadily fallen downhill. Now, crime is the only business that pays.
As I stand on guard, I think about the pokemon that saved me. Whose was it, or was it wild? I had heard tales of wild metagross in Unova, but they were rare, a wild metagross had never before been seen in Hoen. It must belong to someone, but who? I don’t know anyone with a metagross, and police aren’t allowed to use any really powerful pokemon.
I puzzle over this while looking for a place to stay. My mind keeps on coming back to its tattoo. What relevance did the number 16 have? Route sixteen in a region? Was the metagross someone’s sixteenth pokemon? The questions and others like them kept whizzing through my mind until I finally found a place to stay and fell asleep.
As I dream, I see things. Things that don’t make sense. It’s like someone is talking to me, but the words are being attacked by moths. Colors that are only half there paint a landscape with large holes. Syllables without coherency or meaning flow through the air. I can’t think straight, my head hurts. There is a sense of urgency, like I must know this, but the dream is breaking up. It’s going dark, like there is nothing there. My mind empties, and I drift into a peaceful, meaningless dream.
Well, how did you like it?