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Distorted (PG-14)

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by GalladeofSpades, Aug 9, 2012.

  1. GalladeofSpades

    GalladeofSpades Imaginative 24/7

    Welcome to the reason I haven't updated That Show for so long. Hope you enjoy it.

    Distorted: A One-Shot

    He couldn’t believe it.

    It wasn’t possible.

    But it happened.

    Cyrus watched the boy, Lucas, finish nicknaming Giratina, the Ruler of the Distortion World. His Pokédex rang its new name out loud. Shade? Shadow? Bah, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to understand why… Why was this happening?!

    The blonde Champion of Sinnoh, Cynthia, hopped over to the floating platform behind him. She had a joyful look on her face, as she praised Lucas for his actions and told him lines, such as “Giratina seems to have understood us!”

    But no matter how much he looked at this situation, he still couldn’t believe it.

    He was sure he would win. If Lucas had made Giratina faint, the delicate balance the Renegade Dragon had established would have collapsed, bringing forth the destruction of both worlds, allowing him to create a new one… a perfect world… his world!

    Fleeing would also bring forth the same fate. If he fled, Giratina would fail him on its test (or what he thought was a test) and completely distort both worlds, turning them apocalyptic. Then, he could make his new world. All of his hard-sought plans would come into fruition.

    He never considered capturing it though.

    It was impossible. The chance was too slim for it to work! And yet, and yet… he managed to capture one of the dragons of the Creation Trio in a tiny ball?! His dreams were crushed into fine powder. Since Giratina did not faint, the balance will be maintained and maybe even restored. Since Lucas did not flee, Giratina passed him on his ‘test’, granting the same result! It was all hopelessly lost! Ruined!

    A swirling gateway of light appeared behind Lucas. Obviously, it was their way out of this infernal world.

    No… They weren’t going to leave just yet…

    “That Pokémon…” he murmured viciously. No… he would not maintain this cool façade anymore. He hurriedly approached them, coming from behind a rock.

    “That shadowy Pokémon was captured?!” he yelled, hoping onto the floating platform. His yell somehow echoed throughout the distorted world.

    He caught both of the trainers attention.

    “Your doing so means this irrational world will remain in existence!” he said. Both trainers remained silent.

    Calming down a bit, Cyrus started thinking aloud. “Does that make it impossible for me to create a new world?” he asked himself, voicing his own thoughts. Then, he simply shook his head, grinning. Of course… he thought. “Even if I made new Red Chains, the new world can’t be made!” he yelled to the empty space around him.

    He turned his gaze to Lucas, as if ready to fight with his own bare hands. The ten year-old took a step back. Cyrus looked extremely savage, maybe even animalistic.

    Cyrus took a step forward, taking it back once he noticed the gap between his platform and Cynthia’s. He had probably forgotten that he could just hop over with ease. Instead, he simply asked, desperately “Why?! What compels you to protect these two worlds?” Realizing what their answer might be, he made a new question.

    “Is spirit, a vague and incomplete thing, so important to you?!”

    Cynthia and Lucas simply watched him silently. He panted. Something… something was sapping his energy… but what?

    The Champion soon spoke.

    “… The places we are born. The time we spend living. The languages we speak… We are all different. But the presence of Pokémon unites us,” she said. The Galactic Leader widened his eyes.

    What… what was this… this emotion she was making him feel… Remorse? Was that what the speech was making him feel?

    “We share our lives with our Pokémon, and our happiness grows as we all become greater than we were alone.” Lucas stepped a bit forward, acting as if he was giving Cynthia moral support. Cynthia, noticing this, nodded at him thankfully, before turning back to Cyrus.

    She softened her gaze a bit, continuing. “That is why we can battle and trade with anyone we choose-”

    SILENCE!” Cyrus yelled- no, roared. Cynthia took a step back in surprise, while Lucas looked genuinely scared.

    “Enough of your blathering! That’s how you justify spirit as something worthwhile?!”

    He watched as Cynthia and Lucas simply nodded, although the latter did it with much less confidence.

    The Galactic Leader laughed it off. “That is merely humans hoping, deluding themselves that they are happy and safe!” The tone of disgust was obvious in his voice.

    That’s when he realized. All these emotions he now felt… no… No! He was just as bad as them! He was just as weak, due to this horrible… spirit. How ironic. He, Cyrus, Galactic Leader who vowed to be superior to mankind by creating a world without spirit, training so Cyrus himself wouldn’t experience these emotions, had his spirit take over. Pitiful.

    “The emotions roiling inside me… Rage, hatred, frustration… These ugly emotions arise because of my own incomplete spirit!” he yelled in anger.

    Cyrus started panting again, feeling his energy being sapped once more. But wait… why was he talking to them? They would never understand his view. Why waste these words of wisdom on those who do not want to hear them?

    “… Enough. We will never see eye to eye.” As if responding, Cynthia shook her head.

    Cyrus sighed and looked the Champion straight in the eye. “This, I promise you. I will break the secrets of the world.” He shifted his gaze to Lucas, who trembled a bit.

    “With that knowledge, I will create my complete and perfect world.” He smiled lightly, eventually growing into a creepy grin. “One day , you will awaken to a world of my creation. A world without spirit.” Laughing maniacally, he left the platform, venturing deep into the Distortion World…

    The world where logic never applies…


    Left?... Right?... Which was the correct way?

    Cyrus didn’t know the answer to that question. It had been hours, days… maybe even weeks since he had last talked to the trainers. There was no way to know in this infernal dimension. The swirling vortex in the background seemingly pulled Cyrus towards itself, or so he thought. He was definitely delusional. He had to be.

    Cyrus grunted in anger as he saw more trees spawn from nowhere, blocking his path. Would this ever-changing maze ever end?!

    He felt a small migraine go through his head, accompanied by a small buzzing sound in his ears. It was probably from the lack of food… wait… lack of food?

    Good Lord, he must really be losing it if he thinks no food equals migraines and buzzing sounds.

    He decided to rest on a nearby rock, only for it to disappear as soon as he sat on it. Again, he grumbled. This idiotic world was getting on his nerves.

    He sent his Weavile out, simply for the company. He had accompanied the Galactic Leader ever since he was a toddler, staying by his side no matter what happened. He never even questioned him when he did something… well, questionable, unlike the other Pokémon from his team.

    Band of traitors… They all deserve to die… Die… Die…

    A surge of pain swept through his entire body, making him collapse on the floor. Weavile approached him quickly, emitting a few cries, as if asking if he was alright.

    But Cyrus couldn’t hear him. A buzzing sound had infiltrated his hearing, rendering him near deaf, as he twitched on the floor.

    Then… he blacked out.


    When he came back to his senses, he realized he was standing on the verge of the platform, nearly falling to his demise. He took a step back. Not because he was about to fall, no.

    It was because he saw his Weavile get sucked into the vortex.

    That dark swirling darkness in the end… he watched helplessly as the Pokémon was sucked into its centre, never to be seen again. It was a horrifying sight.

    If that was the case… why did he feel such… delight?

    He quickly dismissed the thought, figuring that his “incomplete spirit”, was the cause of it. Another reason to get rid of it for good.

    At last, he left the infernal, ever-changing maze, deep in thought. Had his Weavile decided to end his life? Had he tripped to his horrible death? Had something attacked him?

    Viewing the waterfall of the Distortion World in the distance, and tired of walking, he decided to take out his Honchkrow… only to discover it was missing.

    He widened his eyes and searched for the rest of his team. Gyarados, Crobat, Houndoom… All of them were missing.

    He was alone.

    All alone.

    He cursed himself. He must’ve lost them during his journey through the maze. Or maybe during his blackout. That reminded him…

    How did he get to the border of the platform, if he was blacked out?

    Again, he dismissed it. It probably was something that had to do with that disgusting thing called “spirit”.

    And so, Cyrus set off for the waterfall.

    Once he finally reached the waterfall, he closed his eyes, filled his hands with water, and washed his face. It felt like he gained a new energy, to say the least. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

    Only to realize he was much different than before.

    His once big eyes were now small and red. His skin had lightened to a sickly shade of grey. His turquoise hair was now golden. He raised his head to feel it, retracting it once he felt it was solid.

    Another surge of pain swept through his body, blinding him with memories. He suddenly relived the pain of the worst moments of his life… the pain lasted what seemed to be years, but was only minutes. And everything culminated in what happened during his blackout…

    Cyrus suddenly stopped having a spasm attack on the floor. He slowly got up and stood still, as if he were a statue. Weavile emitted another cry, this one of relief… Until his trainer grabbed him. The grip was incredibly strong, possibly breaking the creature’s arm. It wasn’t long before Cyrus had firmly prevented any way of him escaping.

    He knew Weavile had to attack his master if he wanted to escape… but he couldn’t. He felt too close to him. He couldn’t bear to see his best friend hurt. And so, instead of attacking him to set himself free, he simply begged for his trainer to stop, as Cyrus mercilessly pushed the ice type against a tree that recently appeared. Several vines constricted him, tying him to the tree. And no matter what the poor Pokémon did, the vines would grow back and constrict him even more.

    He did the same to all of his Pokémon. Since they weren’t as close to Cyrus as Weavile was, they fought back. However, they lost. Every single one of them lost: limbs were broken to prevent escape, beatings were issued, every single one of the members of his team.

    Then he threw them off the ledge.

    One by one, they all were thrown into the swirling vortex. A few attacks would be issued, but Cyrus would stop them. He would then break more limbs, as some sort of punishment. He crowed in an animalistic pleasure every single time he did it.

    He heard Weavile scream. The horrors of seeing every single one of his companions was probably too much for him. He could hear the leaves on the vines shake while the ice-type struggled to break free of the vines, knowing that he was next, knowing that he couldn’t escape, but it didn’t mean a miracle wouldn’t happen.

    That miracle did happen, though.

    The vines suddenly released the ice type, as the tree disappeared and the Weavile backed away from the spot it once stood. Cyrus was prepared though. He swiftly hugged Weavile from behind, catching him off-guard.

    He turned his head and looked into his trainer’s eyes and screamed. He felt delight in hearing it, as if it were a simple lullaby.

    Cyrus neared the edge of the ledge ever so slowly, mentally torturing Weavile with the inevitable. Slowing down what he was actually about to do made Weavile finally snap. The Pokémon trashed in his arms, inflicting any harm possible, be it on Cyrus, be it on himself. One of the attacks sliced part of his left ear. From what Cyrus saw, the ice type didn’t really care about it. He probably didn’t notice it.

    As Cyrus finally stopped, he trashed wilder. A soft ‘shhhh’ started coming from the Galactic leader’s mouth, soothing Weavile a bit. They waited a few minutes, as neither of them moved a muscle, in fear of what would happen.

    Slowly, his Pokémon turned his head around… and saw the smile on Cyrus’ face.

    Weavile smiled.

    Then Cyrus threw him off the platform, as the Galactic Leader giggled uncontrollably…

    The revelation was too much for him. He tried to jump into the small lake that formed around the waterfall, wanting to drown, only to be warped back. He kept trying, with little to no success.

    You look ridiculous.

    Cyrus turned around. There stood a small girl, with extremely long white hair that rolled onto the ground. Some bangs of hair hid her eyes. Her pale skin was clothed by a strapless white dress that reached her knees. The girl also had some sort of odd, golden bracelet with emeralds incrusted in it on her left wrist. Her bare feet didn’t seem bothered by the rough terrain they were on.

    I find it amazing how you, of all people, were chosen.” she stated, coldly. She got closer to Cyrus.

    The Galactic leader started running, screaming gibberish and making primitive sounds all the while.

    The little girl simply stood there. “Well. It looks like the heir is very… quick.” Her lips twisted into a sadistic grin. “It’s okay though. They’ve done this before.” She laughed.

    The girl stretched her palm in front of her. An enormous scythe, its blade golden, suddenly appeared in her hand. Her grin became bigger.

    From my calculations, he’ll need about one million years of ever-lasting pain and suffering to become the new Distorted King.” She moved her bangs from the front of her face, revealing violent red eyes, surrounded by shades of green. As she walked calmly towards the direction Cyrus ran, she sung.
    Dear Mister King, I’ve got a present.

    It’s a scarlet gift from a place I never went to;

    Dear Mister King, I’ve got an offer.

    The scarlet gift is yours, unless you differ;

    Dear Mister King, I have a request.

    I’ll exchange my scarlet gift, for your eternal rest;

    Dear Mister King, I have to confess.

    The scarlet gift was your blood,

    Now let me make your life a mess;

    Isn’t it fun?

    Isn’t it fun?

    Now let’s play fetch with bullets and guns.

    You know what to do.


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