Leon Phelps
Don't Tread on Me
Latest Update @ 7/13/06: Chapter 2 has been revamped to due to the last version not maintaining a level quality that my readers prefer. Another reason I chose to rewrite it was for it to foreshadow a major story arc and assist in getting the story moving, which the filler-esque previous version did not do. The blackout plot device does not make an appearance in this version because it simply didn't fit. Takeo turning into Superman and speeding back towards Slateport, hell no. Maybe later, but not now. It takes me a week or two to write a chapter now that I've gotten the hang of it. Also, please let me know if I'm over-describing and boring you in certain places. It is my goal to keep you interested and entertained. I hope that Chapter 2 is an improvement over the last one. I personally think it is, but remember it's the reader's job to leave at least a few opinions. I really appreciate responses.
Synopsis: ~When Takeo joined the ranks of the Pokemon G-Men: an elite organization devoted to ensuring the survival of humanity and Pokemon alike, he wasn’t expecting everyday of his life to be a desperate fight for survival. Now he and the Pokemon Ranger Hinata must unravel the many mysteries that the region of Holon conceals while trying to endure ruthless battles with bounty hunters, drug dealers, pirates, and genetically enhanced Pokemon; at the same time prevent an ancient war machine from destroying the world and the resurrection of a primordial beast hell-bent on the extermination of the human race.~
The rating is PG for now. If I have anything too mature for that I'll note the rating when I post that chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not take credit for creating Pokemon or any other form of media that I may reference in this fic. However I do take credit for any intricate storyline(s) that are seen in this fic.
PM List
Hanako Tabris
Literate
Strayed Bullet
Ray League Champion
katiekitten
Chapter 1 (PG)
Chapter 2 (PG-13)
Prologue-
The dusk thickened. The shrill cries of the awakening Nincada echoed throughout the humid savannah, signifying the end of a lengthy day for the two archaeologists investigating the ruins situated in South Eastern Holon.
A tan, calloused hand was gently leaned against a wall that appeared to be of considerable age. The hand apparently belonged to a bulky, middle-aged man drenched from head to toe in sweat. The cold sweat dripped from his hard, weather worn face, accumulated from a seemingly endless day of work in a dimly lighted crypt.
As he stroked his coarse face, which was in need of shaving, he caressed the strange characters that appeared on the ruin wall with his rough hand, gradually releasing dust particles into the heavy air.
The heat radiating from the peculiar characters carved into the wall soothed his exhausted body. The man, completely enthralled with the myriad of shapes and symbols, found himself on the sandy floor in a true state of bliss.
“Professor Diego!” The raspy voice of an aged man, throat itchy with dust, yelled out at the collapsed body as he ran as hard as he could to his fallen colleague.
“Oh, he won’t wake up.” The pompous voice of a confident man in his late twenties echoed throughout the ancient tomb.
The old man could hear the loud footsteps coming closer. He glanced at Professor Diego who appeared to have ceased breathing. Horror gripped his aged heart as he contemplated the insidious death that could befall him, as the clatter of the footsteps grew near.
“Do you know what I hate?” The voice called out again making the old man shudder. “The smell of middle class old people infesting sacred ground, a.k.a. my self proclaimed private property.”
The louder the voice grew, the more the man shuddered, until a gorgeous young man, dressed in a white tuxedo with matching Arbok skinned shoes, stepped out of the shadows.
As he stroked his gleaming blond hair, he said, “Apparently, the Unown who inhabit these walls don’t like your scent either. Or else they wouldn’t have claimed your colleague’s soul out of sheer aggravation.”
A puzzled look fell upon the old man’s face. He summoned up the courage to address the intimidating young man, “What, what are you-” He couldn’t finish his sentence. The dust still irritated his throat and he was completely terrified of the wealthy looking man who stood before him.
The man in the exceedingly lavish tuxedo, normally reserved for businessmen of high status spoke again. “Let me make an attempt to explain the predicament that you’re in. The Unown of this tomb are like children. They get bored. From time to time, weak-minded individuals such as yourself and that professor are attracted here by the subtle aura that this temple gives off.”
The man began pacing. “Once you come into contact with the walls, the Unown attempt to induce illusions of your greatest desires. If your mind is strong enough, you can manipulate the spell as you see fit and perhaps bend reality.”
The old man’s fears finally dissipated. “Why exactly would they have a reason for bringing us here? Why-” He was cut off by the wealth.
“Because they’re feeding it.” For some reason he began to chuckle. “Prime requires human souls as fuel in order for it to resurrect Solomon…”
“You’re speaking in riddles. What exactly do you mean?”
The man glanced at his watch. “Well, I’ve got a plane to catch at 7:30 and a ritual to perform now. I’m sorry, but you’ve to go.”
The ground began to rumble. The characters on the walls became engulfed in a lavender colored aura. Thousands of black shapes emerged from the walls, swirling around the chamber at incredible speeds.
The aged man felt his heart racing. His muscles grew weak as the speed of the Unown increased. He could no longer support himself, so he fell to his knees.
The man in white walked over to him and placed his smooth hand on the old man’s head. “You have been quite entertaining. When you become one with Deoxys Prime, always remember that your sacrifice helped humanity stay on the path toward a greater future.”
In the dying man’s last breaths he managed to mumble, “I’ll see you in Hell…”
The wealthy young man replied, “I guess that’s true. When Solomon is completed I’ll be running that place too.” He grinned. “Time to wake up Prime! I’ve got an empire to build!”
The Unown began chirping furiously as they swirled, engulfing both men in a sea of black symbols.
Synopsis: ~When Takeo joined the ranks of the Pokemon G-Men: an elite organization devoted to ensuring the survival of humanity and Pokemon alike, he wasn’t expecting everyday of his life to be a desperate fight for survival. Now he and the Pokemon Ranger Hinata must unravel the many mysteries that the region of Holon conceals while trying to endure ruthless battles with bounty hunters, drug dealers, pirates, and genetically enhanced Pokemon; at the same time prevent an ancient war machine from destroying the world and the resurrection of a primordial beast hell-bent on the extermination of the human race.~
The rating is PG for now. If I have anything too mature for that I'll note the rating when I post that chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not take credit for creating Pokemon or any other form of media that I may reference in this fic. However I do take credit for any intricate storyline(s) that are seen in this fic.
PM List
Hanako Tabris
Literate
Strayed Bullet
Ray League Champion
katiekitten
Chapter 1 (PG)
Chapter 2 (PG-13)
Holon Champions
Prologue-
The dusk thickened. The shrill cries of the awakening Nincada echoed throughout the humid savannah, signifying the end of a lengthy day for the two archaeologists investigating the ruins situated in South Eastern Holon.
A tan, calloused hand was gently leaned against a wall that appeared to be of considerable age. The hand apparently belonged to a bulky, middle-aged man drenched from head to toe in sweat. The cold sweat dripped from his hard, weather worn face, accumulated from a seemingly endless day of work in a dimly lighted crypt.
As he stroked his coarse face, which was in need of shaving, he caressed the strange characters that appeared on the ruin wall with his rough hand, gradually releasing dust particles into the heavy air.
The heat radiating from the peculiar characters carved into the wall soothed his exhausted body. The man, completely enthralled with the myriad of shapes and symbols, found himself on the sandy floor in a true state of bliss.
“Professor Diego!” The raspy voice of an aged man, throat itchy with dust, yelled out at the collapsed body as he ran as hard as he could to his fallen colleague.
“Oh, he won’t wake up.” The pompous voice of a confident man in his late twenties echoed throughout the ancient tomb.
The old man could hear the loud footsteps coming closer. He glanced at Professor Diego who appeared to have ceased breathing. Horror gripped his aged heart as he contemplated the insidious death that could befall him, as the clatter of the footsteps grew near.
“Do you know what I hate?” The voice called out again making the old man shudder. “The smell of middle class old people infesting sacred ground, a.k.a. my self proclaimed private property.”
The louder the voice grew, the more the man shuddered, until a gorgeous young man, dressed in a white tuxedo with matching Arbok skinned shoes, stepped out of the shadows.
As he stroked his gleaming blond hair, he said, “Apparently, the Unown who inhabit these walls don’t like your scent either. Or else they wouldn’t have claimed your colleague’s soul out of sheer aggravation.”
A puzzled look fell upon the old man’s face. He summoned up the courage to address the intimidating young man, “What, what are you-” He couldn’t finish his sentence. The dust still irritated his throat and he was completely terrified of the wealthy looking man who stood before him.
The man in the exceedingly lavish tuxedo, normally reserved for businessmen of high status spoke again. “Let me make an attempt to explain the predicament that you’re in. The Unown of this tomb are like children. They get bored. From time to time, weak-minded individuals such as yourself and that professor are attracted here by the subtle aura that this temple gives off.”
The man began pacing. “Once you come into contact with the walls, the Unown attempt to induce illusions of your greatest desires. If your mind is strong enough, you can manipulate the spell as you see fit and perhaps bend reality.”
The old man’s fears finally dissipated. “Why exactly would they have a reason for bringing us here? Why-” He was cut off by the wealth.
“Because they’re feeding it.” For some reason he began to chuckle. “Prime requires human souls as fuel in order for it to resurrect Solomon…”
“You’re speaking in riddles. What exactly do you mean?”
The man glanced at his watch. “Well, I’ve got a plane to catch at 7:30 and a ritual to perform now. I’m sorry, but you’ve to go.”
The ground began to rumble. The characters on the walls became engulfed in a lavender colored aura. Thousands of black shapes emerged from the walls, swirling around the chamber at incredible speeds.
The aged man felt his heart racing. His muscles grew weak as the speed of the Unown increased. He could no longer support himself, so he fell to his knees.
The man in white walked over to him and placed his smooth hand on the old man’s head. “You have been quite entertaining. When you become one with Deoxys Prime, always remember that your sacrifice helped humanity stay on the path toward a greater future.”
In the dying man’s last breaths he managed to mumble, “I’ll see you in Hell…”
The wealthy young man replied, “I guess that’s true. When Solomon is completed I’ll be running that place too.” He grinned. “Time to wake up Prime! I’ve got an empire to build!”
The Unown began chirping furiously as they swirled, engulfing both men in a sea of black symbols.
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