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It's Not Always Black and White

U

UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Twenty:
Icirrus City: King
​
King stepped into Icirrus City. A muted nip chilled the air, a stark contrast to how it'd been in the swamp. All of the buildings that he could see were short and squat like a venusaur, except for one. He could pick out the gym immediately; a crowd gathered outside of it, and someone stood in front of the gym doors, having to address them all. Good chance that was the gym leader.



He started in that direction, taking the dirt streets that weaved through the town. The place looked as old as anything he'd ever seen as if the people had planted themselves in the area three hundred years ago and never figured to change a single thing. Most of the houses were wooden, and the place smelled of dust and sweat. He supposed all the people liked to keep with tradition and whatnot.



Tradition had its uses, he admitted. Most of them were just stupid.



He walked the steep hill to the gym, where murmurs of confused conversation filled his ears. The gym leader, Brycen, who looked as if he hadn't eaten in at least twenty years, listened to all the people with a placid expression, hands folded behind his back.



"… what does it mean for the gym challenge? What if trainers stop coming?"



Brycen shook his head. "The gym challenge will not be negatively affected. There are still thirteen gyms across Unova. What happened to Drayden, a dear friend of mine, was horrid, but it is not the first time a gym leader has died before they could name a successor."



King stopped mid-step at the edge of the crowd. Drayden was dead? But he'd challenged him no more than a few days prior. How in the…



"What if those people are right, Brycen?" Someone called out. "What if we really are abusing Pokemon?"



"The bond between Pokemon and person is like nothing else I know," Brycen said, taking note of King with a sweep of his eyes. "Battles may injure them at times, it is true, but if Pokemon could speak, I am sure they would say they wish for nothing else. Now, come. Go back to your homes. I have a challenger I must attend to."



They turned to look at King. He raised an eyebrow.



Some dished out a few last-minute questions for Brycen, grumbling about this and that, but the group eventually scattered back to their homes. Most didn't give King so much as a second glance. He stepped up to the gym leader once they had all gone.



"Greetings," Brycen said. "You have come to challenge me, I assume."



King nodded. "Drayden's dead? Seemed like he was ready to take on the whole damn world when I battled him a few days ago."



Brycen gave a tight-lipped smile. "He is no longer among us, yes. I suppose you were one of his last opponents." He eyed the badge pinned to King's shirt.



"Guess so," King said. "How'd he go?"



"Murder."



"They know who?"



"No." Brycen shook his head. "They do not, but I expect that it was one of those aligned with this N character. The one who has been appearing on the news. I have told the people of this town as much. Perhaps it was he himself who shot the bullet."



King rubbed his chin. That guy from Vertress City might have killed someone? He hadn't seemed the type, but considering he was a fanatic, maybe it wasn't too far-fetched. Drayden might have disagreed with N's beliefs, and that could have been all it took to set him off.



Either way, it wasn't King's concern. The people might be reacting to N in some ways, but as long as he didn't go around killing all the gym leaders left and right, King didn't see a reason to worry.



"Come," Brycen said, turning on a heel. He stepped inside the gym. "You have one badge, as I can see. Let us determine if you have the skill to earn a second."



No more than an hour later, King waled out from the doors with the Freeze Badge held in two fingers. He smirked to himself and pinned it next to the Legend Badge. Too easy. He hadn't even used zorua, who he figured would still need some time to pout before he was ready to battle again. So, rufflet had been the sacrifice, to deal as much damage as possible before King finished it with tympole. Good thing he'd caught it, too. The thing was a powerhouse.



He slid his hands into his pockets and started back down the hill. The next gym on the list was in Mistralton City, way past the mountains to the west. It'd take a long time to get there, but all that meant was more time to train his Pokemon. Not that they needed it. Skylar used flying-type Pokemon, which weren't super-effective against zorua, rufflet, or tympole. He'd be in and out of there quicker than he had with Brycen.



Coming into the city, or the village, more like, he passed a few of the creaky old buildings. Before he could get far, however, he noticed someone walking toward him. A tall, muscular build. A face like it had warped in on itself. A shadow that seemed to stretch for miles and miles, where it loomed over King. A bulbous nose. A square beard. Red, wispy hair…



King stumbled back. His father.



He needed somewhere to hide. Anywhere. His legs wouldn't move, nothing would. No… no! Why is he here?!



"Well, ****in' well," his father said. He grinned at King. They were the same height, but King felt like he was inches and feet shorter. "Look at what the purrloin dragged in."



King swallowed hard. He gripped the fabric inside his pockets to keep his hands from shaking.



His father began to circle him. "What's my kid doing out in the middle of butt-**** nowhere, eh? Didn't like livin' in the big city?" He cackled, stopping in front of him. "Ooh, or is it because somebody thought they could become a trainer?"



He flicked the badges on King's shirt. King flinched and glared, sweat pooling at his forehead.



His father leaned forward. King smelled his rancid breath. "You think you're something great now, don't ya'? Didn't I tell you never to become a trainer, boy? Didn't I tell you? Well, let's see if you're all the hot **** you think you are."



He stepped back, still with that wearing that putrid grin. King wanted to tackle him, to tip it off and pound his face into the dirt. No. You're not like him. Control your emotions. You're not some two year old anymore. He wants to battle? Then let's let him have it.



"Alright," King said. He shifted. "That's what you want? Come on!"



"You remember who I am, boy?" His father roared. He took an Ultraball in his hand.



"I'm the goddamn Humilau City gym leader! Who are you compared to that?"



They threw their Pokemon at the same time. Have to win this battle. There was one Pokemon that would let him do that.



"Leavanny!" King called. Zorua would know to come out as that. A signal to it. His father used water-type Pokemon, so-



The Ultraball opened. A conkeldurr slammed onto the ground, its weight shaking the nearby buildings. People yanked open their windows.



Zorua didn't transform when it appeared.



His father doubled over with laughter. "Oh, ****s sake! We aren't at the gym, boy! And look, that zorua doesn't even listen to ya'!"



I can do it, sir. I'm strong enough. I'll show you.



It darted forward.



"Zorua!" King bellowed. His heart yanked up into his throat. "What are you-"



"Hammer Arm!"



Conkeldurr reeled one of its stone pillars back. It glowed with sharp white light.



"Zorua! Get the hell out of the-"



Zorua jumped. The pillar slammed into it. It flew to the side, cracking against the wall of a building, crumpling to the ground. Someone yelled.



King fumbled for another Pokeball. He was dimly aware of the fact that he was beginning to hyperventilate, something he hadn't done since being a kid. He didn't care. He had to win. The only option. Victory.



He threw rufflets Pokeball. It circled in the air.



"Rufflet… Aerial Ace!"



"Stone Edge!"



Jagged stones flew. Rufflet toppled. A loose rock caught King in the stomach. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his abdomen, exuding spittle as he coughed into the ground.



"Enough!" Someone shouted. "Enough!"



King released tympole. His father howled with laughter.



"Tym…pole… Muddy-"



"Focus Punch!"



A massive impact ruptured the ground. King didn't look up. He collapsed to the dirt.



His father stepped in front of him, cracking a boot into the back of his head. Dull gray pain split through King's skull. The pain brought with it memories. Memories he thought he'd long since forgotten.



"It's the same as always," his father hissed. "The goddamn same. If you ever come to my gym, I will humiliate you so horribly, boy. I will kill every one of your Pokemon, and don't you think for a second that I won't."



He turned and left. Hands grabbed King, pulled him to his feet. He ignored the people and stared after his father's disappearing form.



"I'm not afraid of you, bastard!" He screamed.



His father flipped him the finger. King squeezed his jaw so tight he thoughts the muscles might pop.



Why did he have to come back? Why did he have to remind King how awful his only father was?



Next time, King thought. Next time I'll be stronger than you've ever seen me before.
 
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U

UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Twenty-One:
Castelia City: N
​
N followed his father into the old, derelict mansion, the wooden floorboards creaking under the soles of their feet. The paint on the walls, pocked with countless jagged holes from years of deterioration, had long since chipped away.



"This is where we will be staying the night," his father said. "One of the sages will bring us what we require."



N nodded. With his criminal status, he could not go in public, even during the dead of night, for fear of being recognized, and that meant his father could not, as well, or risk leaving N alone. At times, members of Team Plasma would obtain the things they needed for them, but this time Ghetsis had entrusted the task to one of the Seven Sages. Until he arrived, they would stay in the mansion, located on the far outskirts beyond the metal buildings of Castelia City.



His father seated himself on the floor; his back pressed against one of the walls. He closed his eyes and slid his arms inside the voluminous folds of his robes, leaving N to do as he wished.



He was not very tired - the sun had barely set - and so decided to explore the rest of the building.



He walked along slowly, the planks under him groaning in protest with each step. He came to a corridor bathed in shadow after turning a corner, so much so that he could not see the two ends to his right and left, but he decided to go left on a whim. The dust that had accumulated there over the years invaded into his nostrils as he went along. Each time he sneezed, the sound echoed back in his ears.



Like any person, the home had a history: a tale to tell in the worn, rusted hinges of its doors and its broken wood. Someone had decided to go against the flow of the nearby city, instead opting for a more quiet life, although, in the end, they abandoned it. N found himself enjoying the place, even if he wasn't able to shake the uncanny feeling that something watched him in the grave, black shadows. The souls of the dead who hid among the blackness, judging him for adding another to their ranks. I did not mean to. I didn't.



He stopped, glancing to his side, where a mahogany spiral staircase curled upward, enclosed by a railing, flecks of gold-paint all that remained of its coloring. He started up it, thinking he could waste time by seeing what the upper floor had to offer. Not being tired wasn't the sole reason he wanted to stay awake. Soon, he was to meet Luna nearby, after the Sage had delivered their goods.



A smile crept onto his lips. That tended to happen whenever Luna's beautiful face appeared in his mind. He could not stop himself. More and more, he loved spending time in her company, despite how they could only meet at night when his father had long since fallen asleep.



N came to the top of the stairs, arriving at what appeared to be a large ballroom. It was a vast, open space with a floor that once would have polish and a marble fireplace where a warm, roaring fire would have gone. Nothing remained inside of the fireplace, he saw, moving over to it, other than a few stains of soot on the white marble. He sighed and leaned back against it, folding his hands behind him at waist level.



In sneaking away with Luna, he was disobeying Ghetsis' wishes. Again. His father would be furious if he ever discovered what N was doing. On top of that, the time he spent with Luna brought him no closer to achieving his goal.



Strangely, he didn't care about either. He felt as if he should, but he did not. Of course, he did not want to upset Ghetsis, and, of course, he was still as determined as ever to free Pokemon… even when the pursuit of that led to him taking another person's life, something he would never forgive himself for. But that guilt was lessened when he spent the first hours of dark chatting and laughing with Luna, knowing that she forgave him even when he did not. When he watched how carefree she lived, relieved from much burden, it made him see that, at times, living life to the fullest meant doing what brought happiness. And he was never more happy than with Luna.



A chilling wind whipped at his hair. He blinked, startled for a moment until he turned and saw that there were two sets of glass doors leading onto a balcony. Coming closer, he could see that age had weathered the glass panels. A web of cracks ran over them, and in other sections, the material had shattered completely.



He stepped outside and leaned on the balconies railing. Castelia City was a cluster of light and tall buildings like skeletal fingers rising from the earth. Dense forest surrounded the mansion, and there was a small, winding dirt trial like a coiling snake that directed to the front entrance, where he and his father had first-



He froze. Three police officers marched up the way to the building, their uniforms clear to see even in the darkness.



He ducked, shivering, mouth turning dry. He clenched his fists. They were coming to the mansion.



They were coming for N.



Had they seen him? How had they discovered their location? He risked a peek over the balcony. The police had almost arrived, but if they had noticed N, they made no indication of it.



What was worse, Ghetsis was downstairs. When the police entered the mansion, it would not take long before they found his father. N crawled along the wood, back toward the ballroom, not daring to stand when the police might still see him. Reaching the inside, he scrambled to his feet and began to run, sweat wetting his palms, only to halt himself again. The floorboards. They screamed each time he stepped on the wrong one. The police would hear that, come for him. But Ghetsis needed his help.



He progressed as quickly as he could while still being careful. He grimaced when the wood groaned underneath him like a blaring trumpet. He applied his weight slowly, stepping around those that squeaked the most, finding the ones that did not, inching along step by arduous step, until he came to the spiral staircase and tiptoed down. Voices echoed through the corridors, freezing him in place.



"Put your hands where I can see them! Where is N?"



"There is no one here but myself."



"Bullshit. Dan, search the building. We know he's here."



"On it, boss."



"John, watch the entrance. No one is sneaking out or in on my watch."



"Right."



He came to the bottom of the stairs, huddling with his back against the wall, licking his lips. Footsteps began to creak toward him, closer, closer. What did he do? Where did he go? He had to save Ghetsis, but how? N would only get himself captured if he tried, and with both of them in jail, Team Plasma would lose its sense of direction.



Everything they had worked for would collapse. All because the police had discovered their location.



He squeezed his eyes shut. One of them had to escape. They had already gotten his father. Footsteps were almost on him, next to him. Father, forgive me! Forgive me!



N spun into the hallway, meeting face to face with one of the policemen, who staggered back in surprise. In his moment of hesitation, N slammed into him, knocking the man over. His gun clattered to the floor. N kicked it away and ran for the window at the hallway's end.



"Hey! Got him! Got him!"



N tore through the corridor, feet smacking wood. Doors flew past him. The window neared, but it remained intact, not broken by age. N would have to break through.



He glanced behind him. The man had grabbed his gun.



N vaulted into the air, slamming his shoulder into the window. Cold night air flooded over him. A sharp sound cracked in his ears, and it did not come from the breaking window.



He knew that sound. It haunted his dreams, a constant plague on his mind, a herald of death.



He collapsed amid shards of glass glinting in the moonlight. Some dug into his palms, his arms, his knees, but he could barely feel them. Fiery red pain, like a knife had plunged into his skin, burst through his shoulder, radiating down his arm, causing his hands to shake. He scrambled to a stand, hot tears soaking his cheeks, glass cutting his hands, and fled, sprinting into the woods, to the one place where he knew someone could help him. He did not think of the Sages, but of the only kind person he knew.



To Luna. I will come back for you, father!



Another explosion broke through the night. Then another. Something whizzed past his ear. He charged into the forest. Soon there were no more gunshots.



He tripped, skidding onto his knees. He cried out, grabbing his shoulder. Warm liquid slid between his fingers.



He groaned, standing. He leaned against a tree, catching his breath, then took a step forward, and another, and another.



Luna, he thought. His chest heaved with shaky breaths.



I must find Luna.
 
Last edited:
U

UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Twenty-Two:
Castelia City: N
​
N collapsed amid the bushes. Sticks snapped underneath his weight. He did not know if he could continue any longer.



Hot sweat coated every pour; shivers raked his body. Pain came in pulses from his shoulder, blurring his vision with tears. I must find Luna.



He was dimly aware that police officers were chasing him, brought by the distant wailing of sirens, flashlights in hand. They were getting closer; he could hear their shouts and calls. His arms shook as he picked himself to his feet. Must continue.



The faint, scattered moonlight was his only illumination from which to see. The undergrowth at his feet seemed as hands that gripped his ankles, tripping him, trying to pull him to the ground. The night closed in around him. It was like he walked through a nightmare, progressing forward but never gaining any ground, for his blurred vision could not tell any difference in his surroundings as he went. The shouts grew louder.



Somewhere in the forest was the clearing where he was to meet Luna. Surely she had heard the sirens and gone looking for N. Surely; she could help him. He did not want to go to the Sages, not because he didn't like them, but because he was afraid they would use Ghetsis' disappearance to their advantage, seizing control within Team Plasma. That could not happen, not to his father.



A branch snapped somewhere nearby. N slowed to a standstill, glancing around him, but saw no flashlight to indicate that it was a policeman.



"Luna?" He whispered, voice cracked and hoarse.



There came no response, but N thought he saw something move in the darkness. He squinted. The figure was not human. He saw a towering, erect form, with an arched back, and many wiggling claws near its neck that felt at the air.



A scolipede.



N smiled, wavering on his feet. "Ah, hello there. I am… sorry to disturb you."



I hunger, the Pokemon said.



N swallowed hard. His smile faded. He knew that not all Pokemon were friendly, and it was only their nature that some attacked humans."I… see. I apologize. I have no food for you."



You.



The scolipede skittered toward him. N shouted, falling onto his back, the wound on his shoulder screaming in protest. Legs writhed over him. Mandibles snapped, claws lurched, reaching for him. The weight pinned him to the ground, and he could do nothing as-



Suddenly its body was gone from atop him. A tree splintered and crashed to the ground, falling from the impact of the large Pokemon hitting it. Curled into a ball, scolipede did not rise.



A sawsbuck stood beside N. It stamped a hoof and nodded at him.



He gaped at it. "You saved me," he breathed, grinning, and stretched out a hand to pet the creature.



His arm never went very far. Another figure ran out of the trees, breathing heavily.



N could not believe his eyes. He shook his head, desperately wishing that what he saw was a dream. It did not go away. He blinked once, twice, three times. Still, it was there. No. No, no, no!



Luna. With a Pokeball in her hand.



The world spun. Not Luna. Please, not Luna. She cannot be a trainer.



"N?" She crouched at his side. "You're hurt. Let me help you."



She touched his shoulder. He ripped his arm away, jaw clenched, and glared at her.



"A trainer!" He hissed. "All this time, you have been a trainer!"



Luna is my trainer, said a voice in his mind. N whipped his head to gape at sawsbuck. I would not have it any other way.



N's jaw unhinged. Luna said nothing as she flipped him over onto his stomach and tsked at the wound on his shoulder.



"Sawsbuck, use Aromatherapy, please."



A green mist filled N's vision. To his amazement, the pulsing red pain in his shoulder began to subside. Something tumbled out as the wound closed, and N scrambled to his knees, rolling his shoulder. The cuts searing the flesh of his hands were gone, as well.



"Your sawsbuck…" N whispered.



"Let's go, N," Luna said, standing. "We have to get out of here. They're coming. I can see them from here."



"Why did you not tell me you were a trainer?"



She tried to grab his hand. He pulled away.



"Why, Luna? Why?"



"I promise I'll tell you everything later. Right now, we have to get out of here."



He glanced over his shoulder. The flashlights of police officers shone bright circles on nearby trees.



Luna is my trainer. I would not have it any other way.



N staggered after her as she and her sawsbuck sprinted away. As he watched her bound alongside her Pokemon, a heavy feeling of sadness welled up within him.



A Pokemon had said something similar to N when he had first arrived at Nimbasa City. He had dismissed it, once, but now another Pokemon had said the same thing. But there was not a single right to being a trainer. N fought against those types of people, had killed someone for that go, and now…



He dodged past trees, fighting to keep sight of Luna, continually glancing over his shoulder. The flashlights were but spots in the distance like a dozen stars shining through an inky black sky. The policemen had not seen or heard them, but they would find the fallen scolipede, and N and Luna had no doubt left a trail in their haste.



When they had a far enough lead that he could barely see the lights at all, Luna pulled him to the side. They both panted hard - N's clothes stuck to his skin - and waited until they regained their breath to speak.



"Where is your father, N?" Luna asked. "They didn't find him, did they?"



N sunk to his knees. "They have captured him, Luna. I do not believe they have ever seen his face, but they knew I was in that house." He buried his face in his hands. "I do not know what to do! What if they torture him? Make him reveal Team Plasma's plans?"



"Don't worry," she said, sitting next to him. Sawsbuck watched the way they had come. "Let me help you, N."



"No," he said, turning away. "Thank you for healing me, but no. Not anymore. The Seven Sages will aid me, Luna; you…"



"I'm a trainer. Yes."



"Why?" He demanded. "Why did you not-"



Luna leaned forward and kissed him. A warmth spread through his chest as though a fire had ignited within it. His cheeks flushed. His eyes went wide. He wanted to pull away but instead melted into her touch. When she did finally release him, he felt an acute sense of longing.



"N," she said, hands on his chest. He was sure she'd be able to feel his raging heartbeat. "I'm sorry. I should have told you, but I didn't want you to think of me differently. Let me show you what being a trainer means."



Her eyes, blue like sunlight shimmering through a pool, pleaded with him. "Please."



Sawsbuck stamped the ground, snorting. The shouts were coming closer.



Luna led N to his feet.



"I can help you save your father," she said, taking his hands. "But the only Pokemon I took with me when I left was sawsbuck. We need to go back to Accumula Town. I don't keep them in the PC, N; I let them stay at my home where they can roam free. Please. Give me another chance."



She is a trainer; his thoughts hissed to him. Father told you all humans were evil, and Luna is no exception to that.



Sawsbuck fidgeted again. The police were almost upon them.



I can't, N thought. I can't! Luna is still Luna. She was a trainer, but N did not know yet why she chose to take that path. He looked into her eyes. How could such beauty be evil?



A chance. He could not deny the feeling that stirred inside him when he looked at her. She was risking her life to help him. He would give her a chance.



He nodded. They fled further into the night, away from those chasing him. Away from his father.
 
Last edited:
U

UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Twenty-Three:
Twist Mountain: King
​
Tympole was evolving. King shielded his eyes against the bright glow, grinning. It was about time that one of them evolved; he’d been waiting since Vertress City. He thought it ironic, though, that the last Pokemon he’d gotten was the first to evolve.



The glow began to recede; the gray darkness of the cave seeping back in to take its place, as tympole absorbed the light into itself. A palpitoad croaked and grinned at King. To the side, rufflet cawed happily over the fallen body of a boldore - which were common enough in Twist Mountain - and zorua’s head drooped. At least it’d decided to stop being immature and work with the other two Pokemon.



King squatted, nodding to palpitoad. The thing was both powerful and quick to grow. “Nice. Looks like all the training I’ve done has paid off.”



Palpitoad danced in a circle. King grunted and stood, moving past the three Pokemon, plus the fallen boldore.



“Let’s go,” he said, starting down the narrow tunnel. They follow behind him; rufflet perched on his shoulder. “We’re not done training. Not yet.”



He rubbed his hands together, blowing on them to try and warm them a little. The passes leading to the mountain had been cold enough as they gained altitude, but now that they were inside, there wasn’t any sun to stave off their shivers. The faint light of the torches along the walls, flakes of ash gathering under them, didn’t help much, either. Still, he dealt with the cold and the darkness both. Twist Mountain was home to a good number of powerful Pokemon, which meant it was the ideal place for training.



And he was going to train his Pokemon until they dropped. He had lost against that man.



He clenched a fist, fingernails biting into his palm. The pain felt good. He needed to scorn himself for letting his emotions control him while he battled that man. If King had thought about beating conkeldurr rationally, had devised a plan, or had been smarter, to begin with… he could have won.



But there was no changing what happened. All he could do was make sure that next time, that man never thought of looking down on him again.



He progressed further into the heart of the mountain, his Pokemon trailing along beside him. As they went, they fought boldores and gurdurrs, woobats, and cubchoos, and when he came across trainers, he fought as he would for any gym. He would not lose again. Not ever, to anyone.



Rufflet provided a supporting role in their battles against wild Pokemon since he was at a typing disadvantage against most of the things they encountered. At the same time, palpitoad or zorua took the lead. Zorua talked less than it ever had before, which was perfectly fine with King - usually, it distracted him - and worked like there was no tomorrow. Whatever King had done to encourage that level of dedication, it’d worked. Zorua followed each one of its commands, let palpitoad take the lead when needed, and never seemed to get exhausted from training, which King particularly enjoyed. It meant that they could on for a longer period, meaning more experience that would make the third gym that much easier.



He only decided to stop when rufflet got hit with a rock tomb, and King fumbled through his pack, realizing that he was out of potions, even though he bought close to thirty.



He cursed. The boldore they were fighting rumbled toward them. Zorua transformed into conkeldurr and took the force of the blow as boldore crashed into it. A stream of bubbles from palpitoad smashed into boldore, causing the rock-type to topple over on its side with a thump. Zorua morphed back to its original form when boldore didn’t move.



King zipped his pack, slung it over his shoulders, and picked rufflet up, who had fainted. The bird was limp in his hand.



He looked around. There were boulders scattered from when boldore had used rock tomb.



“Listen, zorua,” he said. It turned to look at him. “Transform back into conkeldurr and pick up some of these rocks. Put them on either side of us. That’ll block off the tunnel so that Pokemon don’t disturb us. We’re taking a break for the night, which, by now, it probably is.”



Zorua transformed without a word and started to do as King asked. Once zorua finished, King set out some food for it and palpitoad, and placed a bowl in front of rufflet, as well, for when it woke, then leaned his back against the rock wall.



He closed his eyes, crossing his arms and listening to the sound of his Pokemon munching on what he’d given them.



His breathing slowed, the cold air rushing through his nostrils. On their way to Twist Mountain, King had come across a couple fighting over a Pokeball. The girl had declared that using Pokemon was wrong and proceeded to chuck the device into the forest.



King found his thoughts going back to that. People were starting to believe the ideals of that N. Riots were breaking out in some of the major cities like Nimbasa and Castelia, where King used to live, led by some nobodies called Team Plasma. How could people believe such rubbish? Once N got caught, though, it would all end, and King could continue his gym challenge in peace. Not that N’s little uprising had affected him in any meaningful way yet. If King had been a day later in challenging Drayden’s gym, though, maybe he could have been there to save the older man. Or, more likely, he would be dead, too.



That didn’t matter; his focus was on completing the gym challenge. Once he acquired the eight gym badges, he would move on to the Pokemon league and become Champion. That man would have an ulcer when the Elite Four gave King the title.



When he eventually fell asleep, he dreamed of walking up a vast set of marble stairs. At the top, they put a crown on his head and declared him Champion, and when he turned around, that man stood at the foot of the stairs with his mouth open, aghast that King had become better than he ever was.
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Twenty-Four:
Striaton City: N
​
Striaton City was a place of markets and shops. Of people filled with laughter as they went about their daily tasks. A ring of brightly colored autumns trees that danced in the wind surrounded the tall buildings of the city, and the land was warm under a sparkling sun and cloudless sky. N could not have asked for a more perfect day, which was only made better by a beautiful Luna next to him. If only she had not exposed the fact she was a trainer, even if it was to save his life against scolipede. If only the police had not captured Ghetsis. No doubt they had thrown in him in jail like a common criminal. If only.



Luna looked at him and smiled. She held out her hand, and N glanced at it reluctantly. She is a trainer. She captured Pokemon and abused them, the same as all the others. The wind brought the sweet, fruity smell of her perfume to his nose.



A chance. Maybe, for now, he could force himself to forget the path she had chosen. She was still Luna.



He took her hand in his, feeling her soft fingers. Together, they started down the city sidewalk. A cacophony of bustling chatter filled N's ears as they went, passing by a countless amount of people. N had his hat pulled low to shadow his face, and his hair stuffed under it. No one was like to recognize him.



"Do you remember when we first met?" Luna said through a smirk. "You walked into the store with such a confused look when the owner asked you what you wanted."



She giggled at the blush that bloomed on his cheeks. "Yes, I remember. I… have not had much contact with the outside world."



"Well." She hugged his arm. "It's a good thing, too; otherwise, you wouldn't have ordered the same thing I was eating. Maybe it was fate."



"Perhaps," he laughed. "Though, I don't think my father saw it that way when we met in Vertress City."



They turned a corner and came upon a large market square filled with the smells of an array of foods for sale. Luna turned to him and frowned.



"Why do you let him control you so much, N?" She asked. "You're your own man. Can't you let yourself be free?"



He shook his head. "He is my father, Luna. I cannot simply leave him; and he always knows what is best for both myself and Team Plasma. I must go back to him. If you will help me."



She poked him in the ribs. "Of course I'm going to, but he knows what's best for you? Come on."



He wrapped his arms around her waist, grinning. "What do you mean?"



"I mean," she said, snuggling against him. Her warmth was like nothing he had ever felt before. "That I think you know what's best without needing anyone to tell you."



She kissed him on the cheek. The fact that she was a trainer vanished from his mind. She seemed to him more radiant than the sun, and he never wanted to let go of her, not even if she was the most powerful trainer in the world.



"If only you didn't have to hide your face in public," she said.



"It is what I have chosen, Luna. Pokemon must be free, and in the pursuit of that, I have become a criminal. Remember, I…"



She put a finger to his lips to quiet him, then wriggled out of his grasp.



"What are you doing?" He asked, pouting.



She began to pull him along. "Come on; there's something I want to show you."



"Ah. How unusual."



She grinned.



She led him further into the city, weaving through the streets and crowds of people. At one point, Luna brightened like a small child at the sight of an ice cream stand. Since N could not risk having the people recognize him, she ran to the stall and bought something for them both. N thanked her profusely when she returned, but sweet treats were not what she wanted to show him.



After almost an hour of walking and chatting, which felt like no more than five minutes to N, they came to a winding dirt path that pointed away from the city. Birdlike Pokemon chirped around them as they started up the trail, flanked on either side by flourishing trees of vibrant color.



N turned to Luna, meaning to ask where she intended to take him when she took an entire bite out of her ice cream. N stared in horror; she raised an eyebrow at him.



"Luna… I may not be the most worldly individual," he said, "but I am sure you were not supposed to bite that."



"Why not?" She asked, clearly amused with him.



N started at his ice cream. Biting it? Surely that would give immeasurable amounts of brain freeze.



Luna laughed and patted him on the arm.



Ahead of them, a two-story building painted a light-green, rose into view. A white fence surrounded it on both sides, and N thought he could hear the laughter of small children. By the time they arrived, Luna had finished biting her ice cream, and N licking his.



"What is this place, Luna?" He asked.



"This," she said, "is the Trainers School. I think they've just about started recess."



He frowned. "Luna…"



"Trust me, N," she said. "I wouldn't bring you anywhere I thought you wouldn't like."



They stepped up to the front of the building. Luna smiled at him reassuringly, but he still felt hesitant as she opened the door and led him through. A golden bell jingled about their heads.



He stepped into a white-walled classroom with two hallways exiting to the right and left. An older woman peeked her head out from one of them, then laid her eyes on Luna and gasped.



"Hi, Granny!" Luna exclaimed. They ran to one another and hugged, so tight N wondered how either could breathe. Perhaps they couldn't, but neither seemed to notice or care.



"Luna," the woman said after a prolonged moment, releasing her. N stood awkwardly by the door, shifting on his feet. "It's so good to see you! So good! You're well, yes? Oh, how long will you be staying?"



"I'm fine, Granny, I'm fine," Luna laughed. "Here: let me introduce you to someone."



"Ooh, who is this handsome young man?"



Their attention turned to N. His breath caught in his throat, and he tried to use his eyes to plead with Luna. What if this woman knew who he was?



"This is Daniel," Luna said. "My boyfriend."



He blinked.



The woman came to him and took his hand, shaking it in both of hers. "Look how handsome! I'm Stella, but you can just call me Granny. Everyone does."



He smiled, blushing at her comment. "Ah… It is great to meet you, Granny. My name is Daniel, as Luna mentioned."



"Where are the kids, Granny?" Luna asked.



She released his hands and waved them through one of the two hallways. "Oh! Come, come. They are all out back enjoying a bit of rest from classes."



Luna skipped after Granny, ushering N to follow. He came beside her and whispered into her ear. "How do you know this woman?"



"I used to go to this school," Luna explained. "Granny is the teacher here."



"Ah," N said, falling into place at her side. Granny led them through the school, and eventually out into the backyard, encircled by the white fence.



N let the two go out before him, then found himself frozen in the doorway. There were children everywhere, innocent smiles plastered on their faces, but it was more than that. They did not play only with one another but also with Pokemon. Zoruas and lillipups, blitzles, and cubchoos. Dancing, jumping. Laughing. N could not believe his eyes. It was not what he had done, what he had seen, as a child - the Pokemon N had observed as he aged had all been abused or killed by people.



Many of the children screamed with excitement when they saw Luna. The way they hugged her, N thought she must have come to the school regularly.



"Why do you look so shocked, Daniel?" Granny asked at his side.



"Forgive me. I have never seen Pokemon so happy," he said. "It is… not what I imagined."



"Maybe that is the reason dear Luna brought you here."



N shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."



"I know who you are, N."



He stumbled back. He looked to the fence. That is why this place is enclosed. To keep me in. Can I jump-



Granny laughed and laid a hand on his arm. "Don't worry, don't worry. Luna has told me all about you and what a good person you are. She didn't want you to be angry with her, so she called me beforehand and told me to pretend I didn't know who you were. She should know by know how awful I am at keeping up a facade."



N breathed, unknitting the tension in his shoulders. He looked at Luna, rolling in the grass with the children and Pokemon, uncaring if her clothes became stained with dirt.



"I believe," Granny continued, "that Luna wished to show you that people and Pokemon live in a state of harmony, where both are happy. This applies to more than with children, N dear. The bond between Pokemon and trainer is one of growth."



"That cannot be true. As a child, I saw many Pokemon abused and tortured by people. I could never forgive that."



Granny sighed, and N could see a deep sadness in her eyes. "A terrible exception, but a reality nonetheless. Some of us humans are animals, but that does not mean we all are, dear N. Just as not all Pokemon are friendly. Do you believe the Pokemon are truly better off in the wild where they must eat or be eaten by another," she flicked her head toward Luna and the children. "Or in places like this one, where they are happy and are given food and shelter by us. They may occasionally injure one another in battle, but they are taken care of, and it is far worse in the wild."



Luna noticed him staring and waved him over. Granny nudged him on.



"Go on, dear," she said. "You've had enough of my babbling. Why don't you go experience it for yourself?"



"You do not see," N whispered. His heart clenched in his chest.



"What do you mean, dear?"



"You can't be right. What I am seeing cannot be real. If… if it is…" He swallowed hard. "That would mean I took a life for nothing."



"Oh, sweet N." Granny gave his arm a comforting squeeze. "What you did was wrong, yes. I think you know that, but you can be forgiven."



Tears welled in his eyes. His words came out choked. "Can I? Can I really?"



"Luna already has forgiven you. You must take responsibility for what you've done and understand why you made the mistake that you did. Only then might you forgive yourself."



She nudged him on again. Luna sat waiting while the children gave him curious looks. Perhaps they would not recognize him for who he was. Maybe he could… let loose. Luna has already forgiven you. Now it is time to acknowledge your mistake, then forgive yourself.



He jogged toward them. In the back of his mind, his father's capture was still there, but it seemed as though a distant memory. It was not as though he didn't want to save his father, but as he joined Luna, he left all that he had been feeling in the doorway.



For once, if only for a moment, he lived his life without a care.
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Twenty-Five:
N's Castle: Ghetsis
​
Ghetsis examined the burnt, black skin of his right arm. He often found himself doing so as he considered the changes Unova was undergoing. Changes brought by N, yes, but always N had danced to Ghetsis’ whims like a puppet on strings, and it was still certainly no different. That was the only reason Ghetsis had raised the boy.



He shoved his arm into the sleeve of his robe, turning on a heel. For the first time in his life, however, N had gone missing. Ghetsis thought it a shame that he had had to wait until N had fled the mansion before using Pokemon, or otherwise risk the boy finding out he was a trainer. The fool probably assumes the police captured me.



The door into the palace throne room creaked open, pushed by two loyal Team Plasma members, and six robed figures strode inward, footfalls echoing. Ghetsis stepped down the dais to meet them as the doors thumped to a close.



“My Lord Ghetsis,” said Rood, touching a hand to his chest and bowing. It was about time the man started showing some proper respect. “Our scouts from Team Plasma have reported that N has arrived in Accumula Town.”



Ghetsis scowled. The other sages dipped their heads in his direction, then scattered around the room to find their seats. “What is he doing in that putrid little place?”



“I could not say, My Lord,” said Rood. “I do know, however, that he is traveling with that girl. Luna… I believe N said her name was?”



Ghetsis’ frown deepened. Blasted girl. He didn’t know who she was - didn’t care - but she was constantly interfering in his plans. She was a cutiefly that he had to swat away continuously. If she would not buzz off like the insect she was, then there was only one course of action Ghetsis could take.



She would have to die.



“She must have manipulated the fool somehow,” Ghetsis said. “We will have to use the Shadow Triad.”



Rood bowed to his knees. “As you wish, My Lord Ghetsis.”



“Be seated, Rood.” The man scurried off at Ghetsis’ command. It had been a long while since Ghetsis used the Shadow Triad, especially for murder, but they were a useful tool when he needed them.



He unfolded his arms and reached into his robe, pulling out three Pokeballs. He released them, and when the white glow had subsided, three zoroarks knelt on the marble floor, ready to do his bidding.



“Transform into the Shadow Triad,” he ordered them. Again, a white glow cast out the darkness of the room, this time as the three applied the illusion. When they finished, no more were there three zoroarks kneeling, but instead three humans with white hair; their faces covered by black masks.



“I have a task for you,” Ghetsis said. The pleasing thing about Pokemon proved to be that they were too ignorant to betray him, or even disobey a single order. “My son has escaped my grasp and is currently on his way to Accumula Town with some blond-haired bimbo of a girl. You are to kill this girl… but do not bring N back to me. He must think you are evil, and not that there is any connection between you and I. Punish him, but only a little, for your primary target is the girl.”



“Ah, My Lord?” Came a squeaky voice. Ghetsis glared to the side, where Gorm - the worm that he was - had stood. If not for his intelligence, Ghetsis would have banished him long ago. “Y-you seek to, ah, kill her? Surely there is another-”



“Silence, Gorm. That is the course of action I am taking.”



Gorm gulped, shifting on his feet. The man reminded Ghetsis of a rat. “Will Lorn N not be consumed by grief over this? That girl is his, ah, friend, as I recall.”



“Don’t pretend as if you know him,” Ghetsis snapped. “And no. If anything, it will make him hate humans, even more, meaning he will be more dedicated to his goal than ever.



Ghetsis turned back to the Shadow Triad. Gorm plopped himself back in his chair, where he belonged.



“You must not reveal you are Pokemon,” Ghetsis said. “This girl is not a trainer, otherwise dear N would never associate with her, so it shall be easy. And for god sake’s hide those tails of yours when you go: they stay even when you transform. So, go in, kill the girl, harm N a small bit, enough to make him think you are not only there to kill the girl. Am I clear?”



The three nodded.



“Then go,” Ghetsis said. They vanished into shadow, slinking away as if they’d become one with the inky darkness. Zoroarks could do a great many things no human would ever be able to.



He looked around the room, spotting Zinzolin in the far corner. Ghetsis waved the short man over to him. He came reluctantly; he had always been an insubordinate one, but fear of Ghetsis’ strength as a trainer kept the man in line. Moreover, it was greed for more power that drove Zinzolin. Ghetsis could offer him that, once all the pieces on the board were set.



“What do you need, My Lord?” He grumbled.



Ghetsis cleared his throat. “You will tell me of what progress you have made on that task of yours.”



As Zinzolin began to speak, Ghetsis listened with half an ear, thinking of N. The boy would know what it meant to oppose him, even if he had not done it intentionally. He had fled and not returned, and that was enough. Once that girl lay in a pool of her blood, cold and lifeless, N would come crawling back to him, looking for a savior, and Ghetsis would appear. As always. He would make sure that N was as firmly under his grip as ever. Until the time came for the structure of the world to collapse, it would be so.
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Twenty-Six:
Accumula Town: N
​
The floorboards creaked under N's feet. Orange sunlight trickled through the windows, splaying out on the wooden flooring. He closed the door to Luna's home behind him with a click.



She, already having gone inside, spun to face him, folding her hands at waist level behind her back. She smiled. "So? What do you think?"



Her smile was contagious as he looked about his surroundings. To his right was a staircase leading to the second floor, and to his left, a small, tiled kitchen with walls painted a washed-out yellow. Where Luna stood was the living room, with the few leather couches and coffee tables, and a fireplace and TV at one wall. The home was not large by any means, but it felt homey and smelled of Luna.



He walked to her and brushed his thumbs along her soft cheeks, then kissed her on the lips. "It's wonderful, Luna. Do you pay for this all on your own?"



She shook her head. "When my parents passed away," she had told N of the incident on their way to the town, and he had almost come to tears at the story, "they'd already made a will, and, since I'm an only child, gave me the house."



"I'm sorry for their passing," N said, holding her close to him and frowning. "It must have been incredibly hard for you."



"Thank you, N, but we're here now to make sure one of your parents is alright, remember?" She snickered. "Or did you already forget?"



He looked at her, where she stared up at him, chin almost touching his chest, arms wrapped on his waist. He did not want to admit it, but his travels with Luna had been so much fun that he almost had forgotten. Not quite enough that the thought didn't tickle the back of his mind while they laughed and joked, but still, it was the reason they had come to Accumula Town.



But when they went again to Castelia City and rescued Ghetsis, he would never allow Luna to come close. Thoughts about her during the day and surreptitious meetings in the darkness would have to suffice. And he would have to go back to working on his goal - to being the face of Team Plasma.



He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Of course, I have not forgotten. I just… maybe we could stay here tomorrow, and leave the next day? I want to relish these moments with you before my father… well, takes them away. I still haven't gotten to see you paint, remember? You promised you would show me."



Her face lit with surprise. "Oh! That's right. I completely forgot." She unlatched herself from him. "Stay here; I'll go get my things. We can go outside where the Pokemon are."



N opened his mouth, meaning to say that he would aid her in carrying something, but she was already rushing up the steps to the second floor. He scratched his temple and sat on one of the brown leather couches, then folding his hands in his lap.



From his position, he could look out the window and see the sun dipping below the distant tree line, blazing the sky with oranges and reds in its final hour. As he watched it, he thought of what Granny had said to him, what the Pokemon who played with the children had said, and what Luna's sawsbuck had made clear. The bond between Pokemon and trainer is one of growth. We're happy here. Luna is my trainer; I would not have it any other way.



N leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He took off his hat, letting his hair stream loose around him, and put it on the couch to his side.



If what they all said was true, what had N been fighting for? Why was he only now beginning to see that Pokemon could be content? After the Vertress Tournament had ended, and N saw how such a nasty person as King, who thought of Pokemon as nothing more than tools, had won, N had been more affirmed than ever in his want to free Pokemon. He was not so sure anymore. Was King the exception? Or were people like Luna, who treated her Pokemon wonderfully, the exception? He did not know. He did not know anything anymore, except that he wanted to spend more time with Luna. So that was what he was going to do. If she would let him stay for a little while longer, that was.



He stood, walking to the stairs. She was taking an awfully long time. Perhaps she needs my help, after all?



"Luna?" He called. His voice sounded too loud in the quiet home. There was no answer.



He stepped on the first stair. It groaned under his foot.



A face appeared at the top of the stairs. N blinked as Luna grinned at him.



"One moment!" She said. N took his foot from the step and settled with his back against the wall. A minute later, Luna wiggled an easel and canvas down the stairs.



N's eyes widened. "Are you positive you don't want my help?"



"Yes," she said, arriving at the bottom. N realized that she was wearing a different dress, short in length, and yellow with printed pink flowers. That must have been what took her so long. She was finding something else to wear.



"That makes you look very nice," N said, moving out of her way.



She chuckled, setting the easel by the door. "I do love your awkward compliments."



N smiled as she opened the door. "Come on, let me-"



He trailed off.



A man was standing in the doorway. Luna gasped in surprise, holding a hand over her mouth. N stepped protectively beside her. He had hair nearly as long as N's, bleached as white as the sun from space. N could not see his features; a black mask covered his face. He stood where the shadow of the house draped along the ground, and it seemed as though he and the shadow were the same.



"Who are you?" N demanded. The man did not respond but stepped into the house. N's chest suddenly felt like a lump of ice.



One moment N stood there, looking at the man, and the next, he was sprawled out on the wooden floor, dull, gray pain thudding against his head as if someone had hit him with a hammer. The easel clattering to the ground was a distant echo in his ears.



He tried to scramble to his feet, vision blurry. His legs felt like rubber. He fell to the floor again, crying out.



Luna stood with her back against the wall: a bright ray of yellow sunshine. Three shadows crept toward her, loomed over her. Prepared to attack her.



"Luna!" N croaked.



And suddenly, sawsbuck was there.



He thrashed with sharp antlers, sending one of the men sprawling against the wall. White light engulfed the man, and when he fell, he was no longer human, but Pokemon. A zoroark. N blinked, not believing the truth of what his blurry vision saw.



Green mist, smelling of flowers, filled his nostrils. His vision cleared, and the dull aching behind his forehead subsided.



"N!" Luna shouted. "Go get my other Pokemon outside! I'll be fine!"



He shot to a stand. Sawsbuck nodded.



N did not want to. He couldn't leave Luna.



"Go!"



He clenched his jaw, forcing his feet to move, and charged for the doorway. The fading light of the day greeted him when a person abruptly stood blocking his way. The man reeled back an arm, a dark ball of energy forming in his hand. This one is a zoroark as well!



N ducked, throwing his arms over his head. The energy coursed above him, and he heard sawsbuck cry out. The move had hit him instead of N.



N roared, charging toward the transformed zoroark. They collided, tumbling onto the porch outside. N did not want to hurt a Pokemon, but he would do what he needed to protect Luna.



They hit the floor hard - pain shot through his elbow and arm. The transformation faded, and he struggled with a zoroark instead of a man.



The Pokemon screeched, trying to writhe a way out of N's grip, but he wrapped his arms around its chest and held tight. Zoroark squirmed and kicked, clawing at N's sides. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. Until Luna and Sawsbuck can defeat the other two, I must hold on!



Zoroark's teeth sunk into his shoulder. It yanked, ripping out the flesh in a spray of blood. N screamed, all his strength gone in an instant. Zoroark used that to his advantage, kicking N in the stomach with sturdy legs. His world spun, his breath escaping him, as the Pokemon managed to be free of him. He tumbled to the floor, hot blood slipping between his fingers as he clutched his shoulder.



Zoroark vanished inside the house. Cold sweat covered N. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Instead, he clambered to his feet. Luna was in danger.



He staggered through the doorway. And froze.



He did not see Luna and sawsbuck, fighting in the cramped room against the three invaders. He saw a field of swaying yellow flowers; the warmth of the sun spreading through him, the same feeling felt under Luna's caress. He smelled the flowers. Tasted the air. Felt the wind. But his mind rebelled against the striking image. It was an illusion.



A claw raked his face. He screamed, stumbling back, and the illusion was gone. Over the shoulder of a zoroark, through the bloodied fingers he held to his stinging face, he saw sawsbuck, struggling. Saw as its head was sliced from its body, as antler and fur tumbled, eyes lifeless, blood spurting. He heard Luna scream in horror.



The wall burst as if a bomb had set off inside it, cutting off her cry. The sound of shattering glass and broken wood was deafening. The zoroark in front of N whipped around and hissed as a haxorus charged in, feet crunching on splintered material.



It roared, throwing its head back. The zoroarks all attacked at once, not a moment of hesitation in their gliding movements.



Take Luna, said a voice in his head. Protect her. You must. I will handle the zoroarks.



N stumbled inward, holding a hand to his face. Luna stood in the corner, jaw, and fists clenched, as pale as snow. Panting, N came up beside her, dodging the fighting.



"N," she whispered. "They killed sawsbuck. Oh god, you're hurt, N. You're hurt."



One of the zoroarks crashed against the wall. The other two screeched. N shook his head.



"I am fine." He took her hand. "We must leave. That is your haxorus? She will take care of it for us!"



"Wait!" Luna shouted. "Look!"



A turquoise ball of energy sent one of the zoroarks through a wall and out onto the grass. N saw that more Pokemon were running toward the house, hopping over a nearby fence that kept them in.



The zoroarks saw it as well, and their fallen comrade. They began to back away, hissing. A triumphant cry from haxorus pierced N's eardrums.



They fled out the door.



N breathed. "It's over. Are you hurt, Luna? Did they hurt you?"



"You're the one whose hurt!" She said. Her eyes fell on sawsbuck. "I don't have another Pokemon that can heal, N. We have to take you to a hospital, there's no other…"



The lids of N's eyes peeled back. A shadow loomed behind Luna.



She looked at N in horror. "What is it?"



A black and red claw pierced through Luna's chest.



N did not even have time to scream as she dropped to the floor, and the zoroark vanished. The one who had splintered through the wall.



N looked down. There was a hole in Luna's dress. Where zoroark had plunged a claw through. A pool of blood seeped around her, staining the strings of her blond hair red.



He blinked. He looked to haxorus, who roared louder than it had before. For some reason, it sounded full of sorrow, and when other Pokemon began to enter, they too called and cried.



He blinked. He dropped to his knees and nudged Luna's shoulder. She did not move. "Luna?"



He blinked. The blood squelched as he rolled Luna over on her back. He looked into her eyes. Those weren't Luna's eyes. Hers were bright and filled with life, not gray and stale. Not colorless. Not empty.



Gone.



His throat clamped shut, squeezed by an invisible hand. His hands shook. His heart screamed as it became heavy with pain. The gears of his mind began to work, processing what he saw.



"No, no, no, no!"



There was a void in her chest - a gaping crevice where her heart should have been. N clutched her hand in both of his. Touched his lips to hers. Everything was cold. A freezing chill had covered his body.



Luna was dead.



He screamed in echo with the Pokemon, laying his head on her. Tears poured from his eyes as he wailed, beating his fist against the floor. All the pain of his wounds vanished. There was only a great ache in his heart, like a beast trying to crawl from his chest.



Luna was dead. Luna was dead. Luna was dead. Luna was dead.



He did not know how long he sat there. Days. Weeks. Months. Long after the light of the sun had seeped away, and the blackness of night encroached around him. His tears did not stop until his head ached, and his mind turned to numbness. At times, he found himself brushing her hair away from her face, staring into her eyes, believing that at any moment, their light would return. It did not. And when it didn't, the light inside of N - the happiness he had felt when with her, like nothing else he'd ever experienced - dimmed to nothing as well.



He was dimly aware when a large body curled around him and Luna. Haxorus nudged his head gently and placed something beside him. A Pokeball. N wept himself to sleep by haxorus' side, knowing what she wanted N to do with the Pokeball, for she told him so in his head. Her voice was a distant echo as he drifted into a fitful sleep of nightmares, where black and red Pokemon plagued the land, lurking in every shadow.



Where he would be sitting beside Luna as she painted, only to have her ripped away from him.


​
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Twenty-Seven:
Mistralton City: King
​
The Mistralton City gym - a re-purposed airplane hanger - rose above King, blocking out the sun. The engine of a plane roared from behind him as it took off, the turbines causing his hair to toss about. The sound faded into the distance as he stared at the building. Thankfully, there were no people around to ask him why he’d been standing there minute after minute: Mistralton City was almost as small as Icirrus, and that place looked like it was a village out of a fantasy novel.



He’d prepared himself day and night for his third gym battle, trained until his Pokemon were collapsing from exhaustion. He would not lose, not ever again. Still, as he stood there, tapping his foot, hands in his pockets, he hesitated. What if his Pokemon weren’t ready yet? What if he hadn’t trained them enough?



He took a step back. Maybe I’ll catch another one. Just to make sure.



No. King shook his head. It was now or never.



He went into the gym.



The inside was more extensive than both the gym in Opelucid and Icirrus; the floor white and shined to the point where he could see his reflection on its surface. It reminded him of a school gymnasium, other than the fact that the ceiling was open to reveal the puffed clouds on a blue sky beyond.



A flicker of movement in the corner caught his eye. Apparently, the gym leader had heard him come in, for she stepped out of a doorway and skipped toward him.



Well. She’s certainly a cheery one, he mused, stopping next to the large Pokeball marked on the floor and raising an eyebrow.



She was young - probably around his age - and wearing some sort of modified pilot attire that exposed her tan midsection. King recalled her name as Skyla - fitting enough for a flying-type gym. When she got close enough, she suddenly froze mid-skip and balked at him.



His eyebrow raised further. “Right… I know I’m handsome, but this is a bit much.”



She ran to him. “No! Wow, your hair is the same color as mine!” He frowned as she ran a gloved hand through his hair. “How cool is that? I’ve only ever met one other person with our crimson locks!”



“Yeah,” he said, “could you not touch my head, though?”



She giggled and danced to the other side of the Pokeball. Jeez, she’s almost as immature as zorua. How it was back when it talked, anyway.



“You came for a battle, right?” She took a Pokeball from her waist and threw it. It was one of two at her waist. “Let’s go, emolga!”



The white and yellow rodent appeared and glided around in a circle. King frowned. “We need a ref?”



Skyla cleared her throat. “Each person can use a maximum of four Pokemon,” she said, making her voice deeper to somehow mimic that of a referee. “The first to faint all of their opponents Pokemon wins! Only the challenger can substitute!”



She grinned at him, hands on hips. “Good, right?”



“You didn’t even ask how many gym badges I have.”



“Two!” She pumped an arm in the air. “Come on, let’s do this! Send out your Pokemon!”



How does she… He shook his head. It didn’t matter. The battle was starting.



He grabbed one of his three Pokeballs, tossing it in the air and catching it. He set his feet. “You’re up, palpitoad.”



Skyla didn’t wait a single moment. As soon as palpitoad has its feet on the ground, she called out a move.



“Emolga, Acrobatics!”



The Pokemon was a blur as it darted for palpitoad.



“Bubble Be-”



Emolga hit. Palpitoad staggered back, crying out. Emolga flew back into the air.



King clenched a fist. A quick start.



“Bubble Beam!”



Palpitoad shook itself as bubbles formed at its mouth, that shot out in a quick-moving stream.



Emolga disappeared, dodging the attack. King cursed, looking around, only for it to appear again a moment later, then vanish, then appear. Palpitoad’s bubbles popped against the wall. Emolga was using Agility without Skyla ever telling to do so.



“Emolga, Acrobatics!”



“Uproar!”



Emolga reeled back, stopping its flight as the bulges on palpitoad began to tremble. King threw his hands over his ears.



Over the loud, high-pitched noise emitted by palpitoad; he didn’t know if Skyla had called a move or not, but a yellow screen encased around emolga. Light Screen.



Palpitoad’s attack subsided. King pulled his hands away from his ears.



“Emolga, Acrobatics!”



Dammit. Again. He acted quickly, moving before the attack could strike. He held out palpitoad’s Pokeball and returned it.



Skyla pouted as emolga flew through empty air. King switched palpitoad’s Pokeball for rufflet’s, then sent it out. It squawked a challenge at emolga.



“Emolga, Volt Switch!”



Again, he swapped out rufflet for palpitoad. Skyla frowned as the ball of electricity from Volt Switch zapped over King’s head.



“Well, what was the point of that? Emolga, Acrobatics!”



“Foul Play!”



Palpitoad - or, zorua - leaped, catching emolga in its mouth despite how fast it was going. Zorua transformed and slammed emolga on the ground.



It cried out. Wind from above stirred through the arena.



“Wow!” Skyla exclaimed. “That’s smart of you.”



Emolga flew into the air.



“Alright, emolga, Volt Switch!”



“Dark Pulse!”



King expected the two moves to collide, but emolgas never came, and zorua’s attack instead streaked into the sky. A cry from zorua pulled his attention back down.



Emolga had used Acrobatics. Even when Skyla called Volt Switch.



“How is this happening?” King demanded.



Skyla shrugged, smiling. “Who knows?”



He wiped his palm against the leg of his pants. Nothing he did was working. He needed a new-



Emolga flew toward zorua, moving so fast King could barely see. He opened his mouth to call out Foul Play, but without the queue from Skyla to notify him, he wasn’t quick enough. Zorua tried to dodge. It failed as emolga crashed into it.



Zorua yelped, falling back. It struggled to stand, teeth gritted, feet wobbly. King took its Pokeball, meaning to have it return, when it ran forward, using Extrasensory over and over into the air, missing all of them aimed at emolga.



“Zorua!” King shouted. “Get your ass back here!” It ignored.



After it had begun to obey him so well, of course, of course, it stopped during a gym battle. He couldn’t look as emolga slammed into zorua again and again, hitting each one of its moves and dodging every one of zoruas. Stupid ****ing…



His nails bit into his palm. Control your anger. Control your anger.



Zorua fainted. King growled, holding out its Pokeball, returning it, and sending out palpitoad.



“Come on!” Skyla said. “This is fun!”



They continued to battle.



Palpitoad ended up fainting from Acrobatics.



King, panting, sent out his rufflet. It squared off with emolga in the air, both of them colliding at times.



Sweat dripped down King’s face. His throat was hoarse from screaming out orders. A lump sat in his throat. He knew what was going to happen.



He was going to lose.



Emolga hit rufflet with Volt Switch. It tumbled to the ground, cawing, not moving so much as a single muscle as it fell in a heap to the found.



He lost. Again.



He sunk to his knees, knocking them against the cold, hard ground. He tilted his head back, watching the gusts of wind pull the clouds across the sky.



His father was right. King wasn’t good enough.



Skyla came over to him. “You did really well! But… you’re missing something. Something very important that every trainer needed. Come back and battle me again once you’ve found it.”



“What?” He croaked. “What could I possibly be missing?”



She giggled and walked away. It flared the temper inside him. “That’s for you to find out!”



He stood and went over to rufflet, returning it to its Pokeball. No. He would not let his father be right. He was good enough. He was. He could be a trainer.



He already knew what he needed to do.



Teach his Pokemon more discipline.
 
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U

UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Twenty-Eight:
Mistralton City: King
​
King stormed through the Pokemon Center door. The few people scattered around the inside flashed him wary looks, and the nurse behind the counter raised a hand to her mouth. He ignored them.



Grinding his teeth, he loped to the counter, and one by one slammed his Pokeballs down.



"Heal them," he demanded. The nurse's eyes widened.



"O-oh, I'm-"



"Heal them!"



She scrambled to pick them all into her arms, then fled into the back room. King glared at the other people. They looked away.



Something had broken inside him. The tight, iron lock that he kept around his temper, slowly becoming more and more chipped over the years, was gone. God damn zorua. King would show it what happened when it decided to sabotage his gym battle. He would explain yo all three of them what it meant to disappoint their trainer.



The nurse returned, and he promptly snatched the Pokeballs from her grasp and left the Pokemon Center. His vision was blurry with rage. The wind bit at his face, pushing against him, trying to slow him. He didn't stop. He went straight through the town to the outskirts, where the mountains loomed above like jagged teeth. He searched their gray faces and found the gaping black hole hidden among the trees.



Chargestone Cave.



The sunlight vanished as he went inside. The rocks shone with a hue of blue light, electricity zapping, and sparking within and between them. A chilling cold filled the air. Echoes sounded in the distance.



He followed the noises, progressing deeper into the mountain.



He found no Pokemon, and he didn't seem to be getting any closer to the sounds. That angered him even more. Where were they? Hiding from him? The world, it seemed, was determined to prevent him from becoming a great trainer. He wouldn't let it stand in his way. His father was not right. He isn't!



King yelled, slamming a fist against the rock wall. His voice reverberated back to his ears. Brown, aching pain bruised through his knuckled. It felt good.



When the echo of his yell faded, another sound took its place. The scuttling of feet, like a thousand legs running and skittering along the floor and the walls, coming for him. He smiled a manic grin that peeled across his face to his ears. The Pokemon had decided to stop being cowards and face him.



The noise grew louder, raging in King's ears, until a dozen galvantula and joltik swarmed the ceiling and the walls, chittering, and fidgeting, blocking him in a tight circle. It was a shame; he had been hoping for more of them.



He released all of his Pokemon at once. Zorua, rufflet, and palpitoad, all of them appearing in a line. Rufflet cawed, ready for a challenge. Palpitoad looked around, a placid expression on its face. Zorua set its feet, prepared. It didn't so much as glance at King.



He commanded them to fight.



Sparks of electricity like small bolts of lightning cracked through the air, snaking this way and that. King made his Pokemon take the hits. He'd never bought more potions, and so there was no healing them. No matter how many times rufflet was knocked down by an electric-type move, or zorua and palpitoad by a bug-type, King forced them to keep going. One by one, the galvantulas began to curl their legs to their bodies as they fell, too injured to keep going.



Rufflet was the first of his Pokemon to faint. King cursed the useless thing as it toppled to a sprawl on the ground.



Palpitoad was next, cornered by three galvantulas, attacked by a swarm of bug-type moves. It cried and fell face first.



And then it was only zorua left against them, the three galvantulas. Zorua was panting hard, exhaustion setting in.



"Dark Pulse," King shouted. Zorua stumbled to the side, not responding. He glared at it.



"I said Dark Pulse! Use it! Now!"



Three bolts of electricity knocked zorua down. Rage bubbled within King as the Pokemon cried out. He stomped over to it.



A bundle of black and red fur wobbling to its feet. It wouldn't obey him. His heard slammed in his ears, a beating drum. Faster. Louder. Why wouldn't it obey him?



He shouted. "You useless sack of ****!"



His foot moved on its own, thumping into zorua's stomach, punting it against the wall. Electricity from the galvantulas zapped it. Still, it stood and glared at King.



I've tried to become good enough for you, said that familiar voice in King's head. He clenched his jaw.



I've tried to examine what it means to be mature because you told me I shouldn't be immature any longer. All I've ever wanted is for a trainer to love me! That's all! Is it so much to ask for, King? Is it? You push me and rufflet and palpitoad to the extreme every day, and now you're kicking me? You're acting just like that man in Icirrus City! I hear things in my Pokeball! He's your father, right? You despise him, right? You act just like him! Maybe you should be the one to become a little more mature!



King balked. I'm acting like my father? The anger. The swearing. The kicking. I am, aren't I? God, I really am. Zorua is right.



The tension in his shoulders unknotted, fists unclenched. Immense guilt replaced the casing of anger around his heart. He hated his father, but he was no better than him. No. He was worse. At least his father accepted his nature. King hadn't even realized what he had been doing.



Well, you know what? Zorua continued. You want to push us so hard? Let's see what happens!



It bolted toward the galvantula, leaping over the ones already fallen from the battle.



"Zorua, wait!'



It jumped into the middle of them.



It fought a weak battle, for less than a second, before they began to rip it apart.



King screamed, slamming into one of the galvantula. He punched it again and again, startling it off of zorua. He yanked at the other two and shoved them away. Zorua lay in a pool of its blood, fur matted and torn like its ear from when humans abused it in Castelia.



King, desperately trying to ignore the electric shocks beating at him from behind, bent down and clutched zorua in his arms. He fumbled for his Pokeballs, returning palpitoad and rufflet. Hot tears stung his eyes.



One galvantula leaped for him, biting his thigh. He cried out and sprinted away, favoring the leg, zorua held close to his chest. Its blood stained his shirt. Its breath was shallow. Pokemon Center. I need to get him there.



He bit back tears, swallowing hard.



What have I done?
 
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U

UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Twenty-Nine:
Route 2: N
​
N stumbled along aimlessly. He did not know where he was going, nor where he was. He did not care.

The sky wept from above, spraying him with heavy rain that seeped into his clothes. His feet squished with each step. A dirt road paved the way before him, slick with mud; his only guide reference as he roamed in the blue darkness of the storm. But he did not care. Not that his clothes stuck to his skin, or that he had been walking for what felt like hours on end, his calves were tight knots, and not come across a person or city.

Luna was dead. Beautiful, radiant, exuberant Luna. He did not want to live in a world any longer that killed people of such innocence. And for what purpose?

Not for the first time, he stopped walking. It had been zoroarks that killed Luna. There was such thing as Pokemon with brutal, even violent natures, but it was impossible to believe that anything would drive one to commit such a crime. Unless told to do so by a human. N did not know everything about Luna's past, but he wondered who might have cause to hate her.

Before he could conclude an answer, he banished the thought from his mind and continued to wander. Thunder boomed, and lightning snaked through black clouds. What did it matter, anyway? The fact remained that Luna was dead, and N could not change that, even if he discovered the vile person who had her killed. He had already failed to protect the one person in the world who made him smile, genuinely smile, and laugh.

Maybe, for that, he did not deserve to keep living.

If he had not already spent every tear in his body after days of weeping, he would have broken down again and begun to sob into his hands; his heart was numb. Yet there was one thing he had gained, even if incredibly minuscule when compared to what he had lost.

In his hand, he clutched a Pokeball, water streaming down its red and white surface. Haxorus had asked N to be her trainer once Luna had died, while the rest of her Pokemon scattered to the wilds. Once, he would have felt incredible joy to learn of their freedom, but now, instead, he had continued to keep one of them in confinement.

Was it right for him to do so? He did not know. Bot haxorus had loved Luna, and there was no doubt that she had reciprocated the feeling, and so from time to time, N would clutch the Pokeball close to his chest. The last reminder of the girl he loved. Luna would want haxorus to be happy, and if what made the Pokemon happy was having N as a trainer, then so be it.

Lightning flashed again. This time, a robed, green-haired man stood a small distance in front of N, arms folded inside sleeves.

Ghetsis. His father. The image stuck in N's eyes as the white light faded, and Ghetsis became an indistinct shade. N felt as though he should have been surprised out find his father out in the open and not in a prison cell, let along standing in front of N. His eyes widened only slightly, however, before the void inside him swallowed the glimmer of bewilderment.

He hid the Pokeball behind his leg as he went to Ghetsis.

"My son," his father said. The weighted patter of rain drowned most of what N could hear of his voice, but N still recognized it. "You fled, forcing me to come and search for you."

"I believe you had been captured, father," N said, raising his voice to be heard.

Lightning flashed. A frown contorted Ghetsis' face. "You should have trusted that humans would not so easily capture me. Where did you go during this time, so far that I had to spend days searching for you?"

"I meant to have a trainer aid me in rescuing you. Luna. She had died, father."

"That girl was a trainer?"

N opened his mouth, then closed it again, pursing his lips. "Yes."

"Good riddance to her, then. You did not need her help, anyhow, seeing as my capture was your assumption and nothing more. Now, come along. Let us get out of this horrid rain. Things have changed."

Ghetsis turned on a heel and began to walk the dirt path, not waiting to see if N had a response.

He clenched the Pokeball until his knuckles were white. How could his father say that? N knew he meant it, too. Ghetsis was a smart man - the brightest N had ever met - but he was wrong. So entirely wrong that, for the first time in his life, N wanted to strangle his father.

He did not, of course, but followed behind him. N would have to become who he had been, again. He ran a thumb over the surface of haxorus' Pokeball.

He did not know if he could do that, or even if he wanted to.

The world that he and Ghetsis had begun to create, where Pokemon were free from the grasp of humans, it was not a world Luna would have liked. How many people had suffered because Team Plasma ripped their Pokemon away from them? How many cursed N's name as they wept into their pillows at night?

N watched his father's back, shadowed by the darkness, saturated with water. His father was counting on him, but surely another could take his place as the face of Team Plasma. Surely there was another. His life felt hollow and without meaning, and not even the goal of freeing Pokemon could bring the light back to him, for that goal that he worked so hard for may not have even been the right one.

If not for his father coming to find him, he thought he might have found a quiet place in the forest, surrounded by nature, and never moved from there again.
 
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Monozu

Monozu

この日、森の中･･･
Hey there. I'm a sucker for any Gen V content, so I decided to take a look at your fanfiction.

So far, the premise seems interesting. Instead of the usual teenaged protagonist for retellings of the games, you've gone for a jaded office worker, and his jadedness comes through your writing all right. I think the description could be improved, though - the wording felt stilted in some places.

For example, this line...

"He wiped his eyes and did so, surprised to see that the land was bathed in light from a sun a small way above the horizon."

... would probably work better as two separate sentences; one to describe N's actions (wiping eyes, surprise) and another for the landscape (the sun on the horizon). Putting both ideas in the same sentence makes it less clear where the separation is between them. That's not necessarily bad, but in this case it distracts from what you're trying to say about N. There are several other places where your writing doesn't flow as well as it could.

On a related note, I did like your portrayal of N. You're very effective at showing how childlike his mindset is. ^^

Well, happy writing, and I hope this was useful!
 
U

UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Thirty:
Mistralton City: King
​
King sat in the waiting room of the Mistralton Pokemon Center, tapping his foot against the sleek white flooring. Palpitoad was seated to his right, sleeping, and rufflet to his left, making soft noises from time to time that seemed to be out of nervousness. Or maybe that was King's imagination. Though, considering that Pokemon could cry, perhaps they could be nervous as well. Or that could be only zorua. Zorua was different. Always had been, for as long as King had known him.



A nurse walked out of the back room. King whipped his head to look at her, opening his mouth, meaning to ask how zorua was, but she turned toward the counter. He licked his lips and stared at his tapping foot.



They were still checking on it. Three hours after Chargestone Cave. They'd all healed except for it - even King. After dropping his three Pokemon off at the Center, he'd gone to the hospital and had his thigh wrapped - the wound wasn't bad - and demanded to be released so he could come back to the Pokemon Center. He'd assumed zorua, like palpitoad and rufflet, would have been healed by the time he got back. It wasn't.



You hate that man? You act just like him! King pursed his lips. Zorua was right. He'd been acting like his father, and because of that, he'd allowed zorua to be injured. Not dead. The nurses weren't going to come out and tell King that zorua was dead.



He wiped the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand. If they did, he didn't think he could take it, knowing that it had been his fault.



Rufflet nudged his arm with its beak. King patted its head absentmindedly. They had all suffered for what he did, not only zorua. All because he wanted to surpass his father.



Was it worth it, for zorua's life? But Pokemon are tools. What do you do when a tool breaks? You don't cry over it. You get a new one. No. That was what his father thought; what he had preached to King when he was a little boy. Over the years, King had started to believe what his father was saying was true. But he would not be like that bastard.



So, what? Now you think of Pokemon as teammates? He thought. You're starting to sound like that N. He believed Pokemon should be treated with fairness, as well.



And is that such a bad thing?



Another nurse walked out of the back room. This one began to head toward him, heels clicking. He shot to a stand, rufflet flying over to perch on his shoulder.



"King?" She asked, stopping in front of him.



"Yeah," he said, "that's me. How's zorua?"



She flicked her head over her shoulder, toward where she'd come. "Why don't you follow me and I'll show you."



He nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Palpitoad startled awake when he picked it up and held it in one arm.



The nurse led him through a painted white hallway that ran the length of the Pokemon center, and into a room in the back. It smelled like a doctor's office.



Inside was a table with a glass dome covering it. Zorua lay within, breathing softly, covered head to toe in bandages.



King ran to it. Palpitoad bubbled sadly, and rufflet folded its wings close to its chest. King's eyes flicked downward. Did his Pokemon blame him for what they saw? The other nurses, with their chanseys and audinos, worked at the electronics at the far wall or stared at King. They probably blamed him, too.



The one that brought him there stepped beside him. "How honest do you want me do be with you?"



"Give it to me straight."



"Zorua might never be able to battle again. Ignoring the serious injuries it has almost everywhere on its body, rips in the flesh and excessive blood loss, one of its forelegs was completely broken."



King ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. Never be able to battle again? His heart sunk. If that were the truth, it would crush zorua. It had only ever wanted to have fun in battle with a trainer that loved it. All my fault. Because I didn't see. Because I didn't care.



"How did this happen?" Another nurse asked. He recognized her as the one he'd yelled at before going to Chargestone Cave. "Injuries this bad are very rare, even for trainers whose Pokemon are constantly battling."



"Listen. I apologize for coming in here and yelling at you like that before," King said. "I wasn't in the right mind. I went to train zorua and rufflet and palpitoad after. I… pushed them too hard."



"Sometimes," said the nurse next to him, "if an owner is abusing their Pokemon, we have the right to take that Pokemon away and put them somewhere else where they can be happier. Is that what we're-"



"No," King interrupted. "No. Please. That won't be necessary. I realize that I've made a mistake. I won't make it again."



The nurses eyed one another.



"Isn't there anything you can do for zorua?" He continued. "There must be."



The nurse at his side shook her head. "There isn't. Nothing that we haven't already tried. You have to understand that sometimes a wound goes so deep that no amount of Pokemon healing or our own medicine can fully heal it. Such is the case with one of zorua's legs. We've set it back in place, but it didn't heal right. Zorua may never be able to walk on it again, but I suppose only time will tell. There's always the slim chance that it could recover, depending."



The glass was cold as he laid a hand on it, watching zorua. It was his fault that it was like that. That it might never battle again.



"However," the nurse continued, "I think we're going to allow zorua to return to you once we determine it's ready to be discharged. You seem to care about its fate genuinely."



"How long?"



"A few days at the most," she said. "Stay around town; we'll let you know. For now, you can leave. Zorua is in good hands."



He nodded and reluctantly pried his hand off the glass. "Come on," he mumbled to palpitoad and rufflet, walking from the room. He found his way back to the lobby, where the sliding glass doors opened to let him outside.



The guilt he was feeling was like nothing he had ever experienced.



He started away from the Pokemon Center, shoving his hands in his pockets. The wind swirled around as he walked, no particular destination in mind. He eventually ended up staring at the gym, with its open ceiling and glass windows.



He remembered zorua disregarding his orders and charging forward. Maybe it had had enough. Maybe King still wouldn't have won, even if it hadn't done that. Something that I'm missing…



That thing. What was it? What allowed emolga and Skyla to be so in sync to the point where it seemed like emolga was reading Skyla's thoughts? No. You know what it is.



A young kid, no more than ten years old, walked from the gym, grinning and holding a Jet Badge in the air. There was a pikachu on his shoulder, and the Pokemon scampered down, admiring the badge. The kid thanked and hugged it, claiming that it was only because of pikachu that he was able to win the medal.



King looked away. All along, that was what he'd been missing. Why a kid could beat Skyla when he couldn't.



Because he didn't ever form a bond with his Pokemon. Because he hadn't ever cared enough.
 
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U

UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Thirty-One:
Mistralton City: King
​
Four days later, they called King back to the Pokemon Center. Zorua was ready to be released, they said. So he left his hotel and went, and when he got there, two nurses were waiting outside for him, and zorua was standing between them, the one leg it favored still bandaged.



King stepped up to them. One nurse was the same who'd explained everything to him those few days prior when he’d wanted to see how zorua was.



“As I mentioned before,” she said, “zorua shouldn’t battle anymore. But," she sighed, "what you do is up to you, and you alone.” Nodding to him, she turned on a heel and walked into the Pokemon Center, the other nurse trailing at her heels, leaving King and zorua alone. The Pokemon didn’t look at him.



He squatted to its level. “Hey, zorua. How're you feeling?”



No answer. King scratched his arm, licked his lips.



“Zorua? Come on; I’ll buy you pancakes or something.”



Again, the Pokemon didn’t answer him.



The loud rumble of a plane engine took off over them.



King broke down, knees hitting gravel. “Listen, zorua, I’m sorry, alright?” He pleaded, the words struggling to get out of his mouth. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t, but he pushed through. Zorua needed to hear it. King needed to hear himself say it. “I won’t make excuses. What I’ve done, what I’ve been doing this whole damn time, is wrong. I’m sorry, zorua. It’s my fault you got injured. It’s my fault that you might never battle again. I’m sorry.”



He opened his eyes - he’d squeezed them shut -and looked at zorua. It was staring at him.



Did you really mean what you said in the swamps? That you only took me from Castelia City because you wanted to use me?



King opened his mouth, then closed it again. He nodded. “I did. But I was wrong, zorua. I was wrong. I’m not just saying this because I want you to fight for me, I’m saying this because I… really feel horrible. When I saw you jump in the middle of all those galvantula, I don’t know, something changed.”



Zorua paused, then finally spoke. I want to keep battling, King.



“You do?”



I do. I always wanted a bond with a trainer. Before, after I was born, I tried to live out in the wilds, but I just couldn’t do it. I never had a mother to take care of me, I… think she died somewhere, and there was nothing out there for me. It was eat, then run from predators, eat, then run. I love battling, but how can I trust you anymore, King? How can I trust any humans?



“Another chance, zorua,” King said. “Give me another chance. Let me show you that I see I was wrong.”



They stared at one another. Come on, zorua. Come on. King didn't deserve a Pokemon like zorua, didn't deserve to be forgiven. But, still, he had to ask. Even if zorua said no, he could rest easy knowing that he tried, and knowing that zorua would probably be better off somewhere else.



Have you really changed? Can I trust you?



“Yes. You can.”



Really?



“Yes.”



Zorua leaped into his arms. King caught it, startled. "What are you doing?"



That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear, King. That’s all.



The guilt, the immense weight on King’s chest, vanished. Zorua forgave him, despite everything. He wasn’t about to betray the Pokemon’s kindness again. He stood, smiling, and patted zorua on the head.



“I’m going to trust you as well, zorua,” he said. “Both in and out of battle. Skyla showed me something. I’ve been too controlling over you three. I need to place some measure of trust in you all, and not only rely on myself. I’m willing to do that.”



He placed zorua on his shoulder and started toward the Mistralton gym.



Where are we going?



“To challenge the gym. Anyway, we’ve been talking as if you’re fit to battle. Are you…”



You listened to what that woman said?



King snorted. “She’s a nurse, zorua.”



I’ll battle. Trust me.



He nodded. “Alright, then. If you’re sure, like I said, we’re going to be trying out a new tactic. First, I’m going to try and take out Skyla’s emolga using both palpitoad and rufflet, then save you for whatever her second Pokemon is. I want you to, at times, use moves even when I don’t shout out a command. I want you to use your intuition, and I’ll be there to… I guess, catch you when you fall.”



Wow. I should get injured more often, Zorua said.



“Listen… I’ve had a lot of time to think these past few days, alright? I’ve treated the three of you horribly. Like my father, and you can be sure that if he does something, it’s wrong.”



Zorua chuckled. Alright. Let’s do it.



The gym appeared in view, sunlight reflecting on its windows. “Right. Into your Pokeball for now.”



Zorua nodded and hopped off his shoulder. King returned him to his Pokeball, then went inside the gym.



Skyla was already waiting for him, hands on hips. She grinned as he came in and stood on the other side of the Pokeball.



“Knew I was coming?” He asked.



“Mhm!” She said. “I know everything that happens in this town. Now, come on!” She sent out emolga. “Battle time!”



He wreathed a hand around rufflet’s Pokeball. He hadn’t discussed the plan with only zorua. Rufflet and palpitoad were going to use their intuition, as well. It was time he started treating them as what they were, not as tools, but as partners, and that meant giving them some measure of freedom. He was going to start relying on someone other than himself. He knew he’d been wrong about everything, but if it worked… it would be all the proof he needed.



He felt the cold metal of the Pokeball on his palm. He closed his eyes, listening to his heartbeat. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. He cleared his thoughts of anything other to win, focused his mind. He tasted the residue of pancakes in his mouth from breakfast that morning. He smelled the faint smell of burnt jet fuel that permeated through the town, drifting in with the wind, felt that wind on his skin. The smooth fabric of his clothes. The warm sun on his neck.



He would not lose. Not after finally deciding to place his trust in his Pokemon. I will not be like my father, never again.



He reeled his arm back and chucked rufflet’s Pokeball into the air. The bird appeared in a flash of white, glaring at emolga.



“You know the rules!” Skyla called. “Let the battle begin!”



King planted his feet. Trust. Put your trust in them.



“Emolga, Volt Switch!”



Rufflet looked back at King as emolga spun in the air, charging an orb of crackling electricity. King nodded.



Rufflet bolted forward, wings glowing. Emolga released Volt Switch. The move shot through the air, cracking and snapping, but rufflet charged it. Closer. Closer. King smirked.



The bird tucked its wings in, spinning under it. Volt Switch slammed against the wall, dispersing in a flash of sparks. Rufflet became a blur of speed as it unfurled its wings, the wind molding around him as he darted upward, spiraling. Crashing into emolga.



Aerial Ace.



Emolga tumbled but managed to regain its flight a few inches above the ground with a cry. Skyla was grinning like a fool, even though her Pokemon had gotten hit.



“Rufflet, come back.” He returned to the space above King’s head.



“Wow, King! You’ve changed, and so has your Pokemon. Rufflet likes you a lot better.”



King craned his neck to look at rufflet. “That so?”



“Emolga, use Acrobatics!” Was her answer.



Emolga all but disappeared. The move that had caused King so much trouble in his first match. Not anymore. He was prepared for it, this time around. He’d had plenty of days to think about a lot of things.



“Rufflet, Tail Wind!”



Rufflet flapped its wings, squawking. The air in front of him stirred, pushing in waves. Emolga came close, but soon was flailing backward, propelled by the winds, unable to become steady enough to get into a stable position.



King returned rufflet to his Pokeball. Before palpitoad even came out, King was calling an order.



“Bubble Beam!”



The long stream of bubbles caught emolga by surprise, sending her sprawling against the wall. She fell to the ground like a leaf from a tree, once palpitoad’s move ended.



Rufflet was back before emolga could take flight, palpitoad safe inside his Pokeball.



Emolga cried and dashed forward. Acrobatics. Rufflet knew what to do, beginning to generate strong gusts with his wings, when a sudden Volt Switch broke through the Tail Wind, slamming against rufflet.



King tsked as his Pokemon fell, though he ran over and caught him before the bird struck the solid ground. Emolga, having landed an attack with Volt Switch, disappeared inside one of Skyla’s Pokeballs, and a female unfezant appeared to take her place.



King looked at rufflet. “Nice job. You… did great.”



Rufflet cawed happily, if not weakly after being damaged before King sent him back into his Pokeball.



“Let’s continue!” Skyla called. “I’m having so much fun!”



He tucked the device away. His fingers stalled above zoruas Pokeball. Could zorua do it? Unfezant wasn’t powerful, not compared to other final evolutions, but zorua was injured, plus still in his first stage. I have to have trust. King had already told zorua he was going to let him battle. He couldn’t go back on that, and especially not after zorua had told King how much he loved to fight.



King released him. The Pokemon landed somewhat unsteadily but stood nonetheless.



I can do this, King. I can do this.



King nodded slowly. “I know. Long as you don’t just fling Extrasensorys everywhere.”



Zorua smiled.



“Alright, unfezant! Go for it!’



Unfezant squawked. The Pokemon’s body shimmered with blue light, and in moments, rotating orbs of slicing wind were plunging toward zorua, one after the other. Air Slash.



Zorua jumped to the right, landing on his good feet, dodging some of the orbs. More came. He continued to evade them, moving this way and that, as agile as ever on his feet so long as he was careful with his injured one. An opening came. He released a Dark Pulse.



Unfezant flew under the move with not a second left to spare.



“Keep it up, unfezant! Air Cutter this time!”



Crescents of sky-colored energy replaced the orbs, shot each time unfezant crossed its wings. Zorua dodged, over and over, but it was all he could do. King clenched his jaw. There was no move he could call that would help, not when unfezant had that advantage of flight. Dark Pulse. Extrasensory. Nasty Plot. Foul Play. Zorua had to keep dodging until he found another opening, and then-



Zorua stumbled.



King saw the pain ripple through his face as he accidentally landed on his injured foreleg. Air Cutter instantly ceased.



“Unfezant, use Swagger!” Skyla shouted, pointing.



A red glow surrounded unfezant, and she spread her wings out wide, trying to look intimidating. Zorua’s eyes turned the same color. He was confused.



“****!” King cursed. “Zorua-”



“Unfezant, Hyper Beam!”



King’s face drained of color. He stared at the unfezant, at Skyla smirking; his brain turned to mush. A white pillar began to form in front of the bird. Unfezant knows Hyper Beam?!



He forced himself to move. He looked to his waist, fumbling for the Pokeball. He had to return zorua. The Pokeball was in his hand-



He dropped it by accident.



Hyper Beam hit.



The floor rumbled as a torrent of white energy crashed over zorua. King called out his name, shielding his eyes with his arm, tripping on the shaky ground. Hyper Beam continued to plow into zorua. Dammit! He tried to stand, but fell, helpless to do anything. Zorua hadn’t failed him. He’d failed zorua in not being able to react in time.



It was forever before the move trickled down to nothing, and the intense light faded. King didn't get to his feet. He waited for Skyla to call that she had won.



She never did. A tense, almost palpable silence slid over the room. Heart beating in his ears, King turned to look.



Zorua was no longer there.



King stared at a zoroark with slumped arms, one of them loosely bandaged, trails of steam rising off his body. He glanced over his shoulder at King and nodded.



Then he tilted his head back and roared. King grinned. Zorua was a zoroark.



Zoroark vanished. Another instant and he was behind a panting unfezant, raising a glowing, crimson claw. He struck the bird, racking across her back. Unfezant cracked into the ground, tossing up a small, thin cloud of dust. Zoroark twirled and landed on his feet.



He had learned Night Slash.



Unfezant didn’t rise and was soon swallowed by white light as Skyla returned her to a Pokeball, releasing a weak emolga.



Skyla shook her head. “I don’t believe it… well, it’s not over! Emolga, Volt Switch!”



Crimson light bathed zoroark’s black and red fur.



You may wish to back away, King, said a voice in King’s head, much more profound and deep than it had been when he was a zorua.



He scrambled to his feet. “What the hell is it now?” He asked, back away.



“Wait, emolga!” Skyla shouted. “Change of plans! Light Screen!”



The electricity building in front of emolga blinked away, replaced by a forming screen of pink light. A dark, swirling orb of energy surrounded zoroark as he raised his arms. Wait… That move is…



King turned and sprinted the other away. Night Daze.



Zoroark released the attack. Despite how far he was, it still slammed against King’s back, throwing him to the ground in a wave of seeping cold and churning wind. He threw his arms over his head, tumbling, but it was over as soon as it began.



Groaning, King lowered his arms. Skyla sat on her butt, shaking her head as if to try and clear it. Emolga had sprawled on the ground, unmoving. Light Screen hadn’t worked as well as Skyla thought it would.



That meant that King - no, he and his Pokemon - were the winners. Overwhelming joy flooded through him as he stood. He found what he’d been missing.



Zoroark came to him, patting him with a claw on his shoulder.



Sorry, King.



King shook his head, thumping zoroark in the side. The Pokemon was only about a foot shorter than him. “You kidding me? We won because of that.”



Zoroark nodded. We did. I feel… different.



“Sound different, too. Evolving is probably like growing up, but a whole lot quicker. How’s your arm, by the way?”



Still hurts, but not nearly as bad. I will not be walking on it anymore, so it shouldn’t impair me too much, I don’t think.



King nodded. Zoroark turned as Skyla came over, rubbing her back. She’d already returned emolga to her Pokeball. Abruptly, though, Skyla jumped about a mile and stared in bewilderment at zoroark. King raised an eyebrow.



“You can talk?” She exclaimed.



“Oh,” King said, “yeah. He’s always been able to do that.”



I apologized for wounding her.



“I see, though I don’t know if I’d call that a wound,” King said. He looked expectantly at Skyla.



“I’m so glad I could help you discover how to be a better trainer.” She smiled, digging into her pocket. The Jet Badge sat in the palm of her glove as she held it out to King. “No wonder zoroark evolved. Because the strength of your bond grew so much!”



King took the badge in two fingers. He almost didn’t want to pin it to his shirt. He’s worked incredibly hard for it, him, and especially his Pokemon. But, it was a symbol of all of that. He placed it next to the two others.



Skyla ran off, leaving zoroark and King in the gym as she proclaimed she had to take her Pokemon to get healed.



Zoroark turned to King once she’d gone, arms crossed over his chest. Where will we go now?



“Only one place to go,” King answered. “Driftveil City. We’ve got a fourth gym badge to win.”



Side by side, they walked out of the building. The sun seemed a little brighter, the sky a little clearer, as they began their journey to Driftveil City. King realized how happy he was to finally have a bond with his Pokemon. He’d traveled - he’d lived - alone for so long, no friends, no family, that he’d forgotten what it meant to put your trust in someone else.
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Thirty-Two:
Castelia City: N
​
Again, N found himself in Castelia City, its black buildings rising from the earth like so many bony fingers. He did not want to be there and made it known to his father, but he proclaimed they had a rally to attend, and N could not convince him that they should go elsewhere.



He did not want to be there for more than the simple fact that he had begun to despise cities because of the awful memories that bubbled to the surface when he entered them. Memories of blood, of the popping blare of gunfire. Luna had said she'd forgiven him, and for a time, nightmares of Drayden's pale, lifeless body did not haunt him, but Luna was dead, and the happy memories he'd shared with her when there was no burden on his shoulders, seemed a fading dream. But, no, Drayden was not the only reason.



The city had also changed.



When N and Ghetsis were progressing past the tree-lined outskirts, the sound of cheering, coming in waves, growing louder as they came closer as if he heard the cities heartbeat, filled N's ears. He inquired to his father as to its source, but Ghetsis stated that he would see, and as they moved under the looming shadows of metal buildings, N did, and what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.



A crowd, more significant than any N had ever seen, gathered in the square of a street intersection. People moving in that direction were parking their cars on street sides, filing out of their vehicles. Not to scream for the people to move, but instead, many, if not all, joined the mob. They all faced in one direction, away from N and Ghetsis, listening to someone speak, though N could not make out the words.



He suddenly became self-conscious of the Pokeball hidden in his hat. This was the rally that his father wanted him to attend. This was the product of everything N had worked for since leaving the castle.



But it meant nothing now. It was not the world Luna would have wished.



Ghetsis' hand squeezed his shoulder. "Go, my son. Preach to them. Julia will be happy to have your aid."



Julia? She was one of those there when he killed Drayden. A boom of shouts erupted from the crowd, many raising their arms in triumph. "I cannot, father."



"What? What do you mean, you cannot?" Ghetsis barked. "I would think you would relish at the opportunity. Look! Look at what we have accomplished. You are still the face of Team Plasma, the face of this movement. You were the spark. Seeing you in person will make them more serious in their newfound beliefs than ever."



N looked at them all. This is not what Luna would have wanted. Pokemon… they love being with trainers. What have I done? "But… father, well, what if the police come? What if they find and capture me?"



Ghetsis scowled. "You have never worried about such things. Besides, they will not. I have had Team Plasma take care of them."



"Father…"



"Do you not trust your father anymore?" Ghetsis shouted. "I do not like this new rebellious side of you, my son! I do not like it at all. You will go up there, and you will show them your beliefs!"



N pursed his lips. Perhaps he would do it if only to assuage his father's anger. Why should he resist, anyway? Why should he resist anything?



"Alright, father."



Ghetsis snorted and nudged him.



He started forward, weaving his way through the crowd, smelling sweat, seeing smiles, and hearing cheers. At first, those around regarded him as they would any other, but then they began to notice his green hair. Gasps and shouts, even laughter, rippled through the crowd behind him. Some also touched him, as if he was famous. As if they had to be sure he was real.



Soon, as he reached the other end and nodded to a bewildered Julia, they were all cheering his name in unison. N! N! N! His exploits had spread his name far and wide after they had appeared on the news.



That filled him with incredible sadness. Each thing I did was out of ignorance. Humans don't oppress Pokemon; they are cared for and loved by almost all. I had not seen enough of the world to know that.



He quieted the people with a soothing gesture. They responded, and the cheers faded until each person waited on N's words with baited breaths.



He opened his mouth to speak. Any words he was going to say instantly died on his lips. He realized then that he could not do it. Genuinely lie to all of them? Keep going with a facade when he no longer believed what he was preaching?



Expectant eyes watched him. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. No. Doing so would be wrong. Would Luna have let someone else dictate the words that came out of her mouth? Never. Luna is dead, N.



Yes. She was. The thought still made his chest ache and beckoned tears to his eyes, but his love for her was not.



Julia poked him. He blinked, smiling at her, then began to address the crowd.



"I fear I must tell you all that I have made a grave mistake." He paused. A cacophony of confused murmurs reached his ears. "I have done many things in the pursuit of freeing Pokemon from the rule of humans. I believed in that so strongly, so absolutely, that it drove me to kill an innocent man. Yes, innocent! Did being a gym leader make Drayden evil? Was he any worse than any of you? Than myself? No! I ask you to reconsider everything Team Plasma has-"



A hand gripped him by the arm, yanking him to the side. Startled silence covered the crowd like a blanket, and they followed him with their eyes as Ghetsis pulled him into a side alley between two buildings.



N winced as his father slammed him against the wall, snarling, pinning him with his charred arm. N struggled, but he was not strong enough to release himself.



"What do you think you're doing?" Ghetsis roared. "What do you think you're doing? You'll ruin everything!"



N clawed at his father's arm, feeling the weight press on his throat, cutting off his breath. "Father… let go… of me!"



Ghetsis did. N fell to his knees, coughing and holding a hand to his throat.



"You'll never do that again, understand? Understand me?"



"Yes," N mumbled.



"What?" Ghetsis demanded.



"Yes!"



"Get up."



N wiped his mouth with his arm and pushed to his feet. He met his father's eyes with an even look.



"I should have never let you out of my sight, not for a single moment!" Ghetsis threw his hands up in frustration. "The world has done what I feared it would do. It has corrupted you, but understand that what you just did will never happen again. We're leaving, and when we arrive in Nimbasa City, you will comply with me, or there. Will. Be. Consequences."



Ghetsis turned on his heel, stomping away. N breathed a long, slow breath to calm himself, staring at his father's retreating form. He was not angry. He was not sad, not frustrated. He had done what he thought was right, and Ghetsis had responded accordingly.



N did ask himself, however, as he followed after his father, why he had always been so obedient and devoted.
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Thirty-Three:
Driftveil City: King
​
King stepped out of the Driftveil City gym, the cold air that drifted from the mountains washing over him as if he'd walked into a freezer. The salt smelling breezes blowing in from the ocean didn't make it any warmer. He squinted at the pale sun. It was already almost winter.



Zoroark moved beside him, arms crossed over his chest. That wasn't very difficult.



King smirked, flicking the Quake Badge up into the air and catching in his hand, then pinning it to his shirt. "Wanted more of a challenge?"



Of course. There's no enjoyment if we simply win each battle so easily.



"That's what happens when we've had so much practice," King said. "Come on: let's head into the city."



Zoroark nodded, trailing behind him. They progressed through the walkway lined with potted trees that led away from the gym, which eventually gave way to the padded dirt roads of the port town. Zoroark admired the bustling markets and ships loaded with crates of cargo. King found himself engrossed in his thoughts, hands in pockets.



Another gym beaten. That totaled the number of his gym badges to four. His father was a gym leader, and one of these days, King would have to go and challenge him. He would show his father what it meant to be a trainer, and then go on to face the Champion and obtain that title for himself: what every trainer strived for, to solidify their place in history as one of the greatest. He wondered what his father would think about his newfound aptitude toward Pokemon.



No. It didn't matter in the slightest. King would win the gym badge from him, and then never see him again. That was perfectly fine: not like his father had ever done anything for him anyway.



King.



He blinked, turning to zoroark. The Pokemon was searching the area with squinted eyes, looking this way and that. "What is it?"



People are giving us odd looks. Do they always glance at you like that?



It was King's turn to look around. Most of those that passed them, heading toward or away from the harbor, shot them contemptuous glances. One guy outright glared. Typically, King wouldn't care much, but as he watched, he realized something. By the docked ships, people were doing all the work of loading and unloading. All the manual labor. No Pokemon were helping. No one had any Pokemon walking with them.



"What the hell?" King said. "Where are all the Pokemon?"



Hm. I don't know. Does it have something to do with why we're receiving these looks?



Frowning, and suspecting that he knew why, King ran to someone nearby, getting the man's attention with a tap on the shoulder. He looked about King's age, but King had seen sticks that were better looking.



Zoroark tagged along. The man stopped and turned, a frown forming as he looked zoroark up and down. By the time his attention turned to King, he was scowling.



"What do you want?"



"You look like a knowledgeable fellow. Can you tell me why there aren't any Pokemon over there performing manual labor?" He pointed to the boats bobbing on the lapping surface of the water. "Or why there aren't any around in general, besides zoroark here."



Not answering, the man turned to leave. Zoroark stopped him. He wasn't the tallest, but almost any Pokemon could stand toe to toe with a human when they wanted to.



"Just want to talk," King said.



"Let me pass." The man, again, tried to leave. Zoroark barred his way with an arm.



"Answer the question. I don't know what you're thinking, but we're not going to hurt you."



The man whirled on him; lips pulled back from his teeth like a feral Pokemon. "Alright, what, have you been living under a rock? People are abandoning their Pokemon all over Unova, not only in this damn city. Oh, the government is doing everything they can to try and stop it, but Team Plasma grows larger every day. I'm a member myself, and I would make sure that zoroark of yours never gets seen again, but I'm in a hurry. So move."



King's expression dropped. N. People were listening to what N was saying, as King thought. Right when he'd discovered what it meant to be a trainer. Saying that humans oppressed Pokemon was nonsense. King had always thought that, and his opinion hadn't changed. Before, it was because he thought of Pokemon as nothing more than tools, but… now it was because he saw that they enjoyed being with their trainers. Of course, N would be able to gain a following. Most people were stupid enough to pledge to a cause that didn't make any sense.



The man's glare transitioned between him and zoroark. King sighed, nodding to his Pokemon. As soon as he lowered his arm, the man dashed away, not once looking back over his shoulder.



Zoroark watched him go. It can't be true.



"I'm not so sure, zoroark." King shook his head. "I haven't paid any attention at all recently to the news, but come to think of it; Clay was acting pretty strange. Like there was something big on his mind."



A deep growl rumbled in zoroark's throat. This is not good for Pokemon. If only they could all talk, like me, then they could tell those releasing them how they truly feel. It's so… sad. They probably assume humans are abandoning them.



King put a hand on his Pokemon's shoulder. "I wouldn't worry so much. We'll come around, eventually."



We do not have to fear, do we? Your Pokemon, I mean.



"Of course not, zoroark." He laughed. "You're starting to sound like the old you."



Zoroark smiled, but it was a weak one. Ushering for him to follow, King started toward the Driftveil Drawbridge.



Zoroark was worried; King understood that. He was a little bit himself if only because people abandoning Pokemon could mean a recession in the economy. Or a boom in it. Less Pokemon working meant more jobs available to humans, but that also suggested companies would have to pay workers what they previously got for free by hiring Pokemon. Usually, they only had to pay them food.



He blinked, turning to zoroark. They stopped as they reached the foot of the drawbridge: a long, red arch over the water, crisscrossed with steel beams and supports. "You hungry, zoroark?"



I wouldn't mind a little something.



King nodded. He pulled rufflet and palpitoad's Pokeballs from his waist and released them. Rufflet cawed, happy to have some fresh air, and landed on his favorite place - King's shoulder. Palpitoad sat on zoroark's foot, for whatever reason.



"Let's cross the bridge. We can grab something on the other side."



Zoroark looked across. What city?



"Nimbasa," King answered. "You can see the lights from here if you look hard enough. Anyway, that's where we'll be getting our fifth badge. I wouldn't mind getting another Pokemon before we fought her, too. Tympole was the most recent, and that was back in the… swamps."



Zoroark smiled, genuinely this time. I've forgiven you for a long time, King. You have changed since then.



"Suppose I have, zoroark. Suppose I have." He scratched rufflet's fur. The four of them had only a small wait before they headed onto the bridge, laughing and chatting. The fact that people were abandoning Pokemon was far from King's mind, though he couldn't say the same for zoroark.
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Thirty-Four:
Nimbasa City: N
​
When N and his father arrived in Nimbasa City, the six other sages besides Ghetsis awaited them. They stood in a line, shadowed figures clothed in voluminous robes intricately designed by swirling patterns. Behind them lay a city controlled almost entirely by Team Plasma.



Neon lights flickered and sparked from lack of maintenance. Broken glass littered the streets, blown outward from destroyed shop windows. Citizens had abandoned their cars at the sides of roads, and the doors of apartment complexes were sealed shut. A riot had gone out of control, Ghetsis said. The military, nor the police, had been able to contain it: they were busy dealing with their members defecting and taking Pokemon with them. The military relied heavily on the strength of Pokemon, and without them, they were not strong enough to contain the populace and the rebellions within their ranks simultaneously.



The world N had once envisioned was unfolding before his eyes. No longer did he wish for it to be so. Looking around at the destruction gave him a horrible taste in his mouth that would not go away, no matter how many times he swallowed.



It was all his fault. It did not seem to matter what he did in life; it always was the wrong choice. He was a horrible person. A murderer. He could not save the woman he loved, and he had been too naive to see the truth of the relationship between Pokemon and person, and all of Unova was paying for it. He did not know who he was anymore, where he should go or what to do with himself. He did not know.



Ghetsis stopped in front of the other sages, and N did the same. Gorm was glancing furtively in his direction, even as the six of them bowed to Ghetsis in unison, arms wrapped in their sleeves. Gorm had always been a bit odd, and N chalked his behavior to that. His thoughts never returned to it twice.



"I trust everything is going according to plan," Ghetsis said, speaking to none of them in particular, though Rood nodded.



"Indeed, My Lord Ghetsis," he said. "Your genius has not failed us."



Ghetsis nodded. "We will talk over there."



His father moved, and the Sages shuffled after. When N turned to follow, Ghetsis held out a hand to stop him, and so he stayed where he was. He shouldn't have tried to go in the first place. He didn't care what they had to say, not truly. He no longer considered himself a member of Team Plasma, no matter what Ghetsis said or ordered him to do.



Surreptitiously, after checking to make sure that none were looking his way, even Gorm, he pulled his Pokeball out from its hiding place, holding it where the others could not see. He stroked the surface with his thumb. Somewhere in the ostensibly deserted city, once so full of life, was the Nimbasa gym leader. If she were not dead already, then she most likely would be in hiding. Though he didn't know her personally, of course, N hoped she would have been able to make it out of the city. No more gym leaders needed to die, and without a doubt, the gym, along with the houses of any who owned Pokemon, had been the riot's first targets.



The Sages were busy, huddled among themselves, and so N began to look around. Piles of trash tumbled over the sidewalks, pushed by a wind that groaned as it blew through buildings with broken windows and doors busted open. Gray, faceless clouds swirled, blocking the sun and the sky from view. Although there was no one in the immediate vicinity, members of Team Plasma from across Unova were gathering. Ghetsis said the purpose was to assemble in the hopes of creating the largest rally yet; one N was to be a part of. Should he plan to go along with his father's wishes, doing as he said? Or follow what his heart was telling him, and try to put a stop to it all? He could not think of an answer.



A flicker of movement caught his attention. Gorm was approaching him, licking his lips, looking from side to side, wringing his hands. N turned toward him.



"M-my Lord, ah, N."



"Gorm."



"There is-is not, ah, much time. Your father, My Lord. Your father, he has, ah, allowed me to come g-greet you."



N frowned. Gorm continued to shift on his feet; the man was incredibly nervous. "Is something the matter, Gorm? I do not think I can help, but it's obvious something is bothering you."



Suddenly, Gorm grabbed him by the shoulders; eyelids peeled back from red eyes. Ghetsis turned to look at them. "There is no time! I must, ah, I must t-tell you!"



His father began to walk toward them. N's eyebrows furrowed together. "Tell me what, Gorm?"



"I cannot do t-this any-any longer, Lord N! I c-cannot! I never thought we would begin, ah, begin to, ah, start killing people! Lord N, I…"



Ghetsis broke into a jog, robe swishing. Gorm's grip on his shoulders tightened.



"I don't care! I m-must say it!" Gorm shouted, spittle spraying on to N's face.



"Your father! Your father is the one who killed-"



Suddenly Ghetsis was behind him. With a flourish of his robe, his hands wrapped around Gorm's chin and head. The color drained from the Sage's face. N opened his mouth.



There was a snap. Gorm crumpled.



Ghetsis, panting, stared at Gorm's dead body. He composed himself and looked at N. They met each other's gaze.



"What was Gorm going to say, father?" N whispered. He did not need an answer, for he already knew it. Someone that Ghetsis did not want N to realize he had killed. A secret that he would kill Gorm to hide.



The thump of N's heart pounded in his ears. His blood boiled, raged through his body. His fingernails sunk into the skin of his palm, his jaw clenched as hard as a vice, teeth grinding. Something inside N shattered. The veil through which he saw Ghetsis. His vision blurred until it seemed as though he was looking at his father through a tunnel.



N had known all along that it was him, but he had not been willing to admit it. Not prepared to face the truth.



"You killed her, didn't you?" N spat. "You killed her!"



"I should never have trusted that fool," Ghetsis said. N could barely hear him.



"No," N said, his voice cracked, shaky. "You shouldn't have."



He cracked a fist against Ghetsis' nose. Blood spurted onto N's knuckles as Ghetsis fell back, crying out.



The other Sages were at his side in an instant, helping him to a stand. He wiped the blood from his nose with a sleeve, shaking his head.



"You're right, boy. I killed that insipid girl."



N roared. He released haxorus.



His thoughts were a blur, a churning mass inside his head. Father killed Luna. Father killed Luna. Father killed Luna.



The Sages stumbled as haxorus reeled her head back, a roar to match N's. She could feel his anger, his sorrow, the feeling of betrayal that raked his heart.



A maniacal laugh erupted from Ghetsis. "You have a Pokemon, boy? How ironic!"



Ghetsis put a hand into his robe, and when he took it out again, an Ultraball sat in his palm. N stared at it as if it were a poisonous ekans.



His father was a trainer.



N screamed in outrage as Ghetsis released a hydreigon. The five other Sages summoned Pokemon as well. Haxorus bellowed at them all.



A battle ensued. An impact threw N back, hard pain shooting through his shoulder blades, as beams of energy blasted, breaking holes into concrete, disintegrating parts of buildings. Glass shattered. Haxorus fought with every ounce of her being, but she could not beat six other Pokemon. Not alone. Wounds appeared on her body. Exhaustion began to overtake her.



Go, N! He heard in his mind. Go! I will not lose another one of my trainers!



A Hyper Beam threw her back, white light blinding N's vision. He pulled himself onto shaky legs, blinking. "I will not run away again! I will not!"



He bolted forward. Haxorus screamed in his mind, but he could not hear her. Ghetsis regarded him with a sneer. His father would pay. Pay for what he had done to Luna.



His feet slapped against the concrete. Closer. Closer. I'll kill him! I'll kill him!



An excadrill was suddenly before him, reeling back a steel arm. N screamed, charging it. The claw flew toward his stomach.



A figure crashed into excadrill, throwing it to the side. A bouffalant.



N stumbled to a halt. Bouffalant nodded at him. This man, this Ghetsis, killed Gorm. We will fight.



Four empty Pokeballs tumbled from Gorm's dead body. Four Pokemon stood facing the Sages.



N, you must go! Haxorus called to him. There is nothing you can do here! Live! Live to fight another day!



The Sages were releasing more of their Pokemon. Seven, eight, nine, ten of them.



N turned and ran. Hot tears made trails down his cheeks as he sprinted away. Explosions echoed behind him.



He cried for haxorus; that he had to leave her to fight with only Gorm's Pokemon to aid her. He cried for Luna. He cried because his father had killed her. That he hadn't faced the truth sooner, and brave Gorm had needed to sacrifice himself to make N see.



See that his father was not a man at all, but a monster.



Haxorus would fight and come find N later. He was sure of it. In the meantime, N needed someone. Someone that could help him stop his father.



Anyone.
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Thirty-Five:
Nimbasa City: N
​
N did not reunite with haxorus until three days later. During that time, he had run, and he had hidden, worry creasing the lines of his face, but he did not leave the area nearby Nimbasa City; could not. That was where haxorus was, and where Ghetsis, the five other Sages, and almost all of Team Plasma would be, preparing to gather. N had decided what he would do. He was going to stop them all. If so many saw that he no longer believed in their goal, inevitably, at least some would change their minds.



There were those that his father sent to look for him - members of Team Plasma. Forests dotted The outskirts of the city, and although most of the trees no longer had leaves, there were still tangled bushes and thick trunks to use as cover. Sometimes, however, one of them would get too close to N, almost to the point of finding him, forcing him to use violence. He knew he had no choice in the matter, and he did not kill any of them, but that did not remove the guilt.



On the evening of the third day, when the sun was sinking below the horizon, coloring the sky bronze and flaring the clouds various shades of red and orange; its fading light glimmering through bare branches, N crouched inside a bush, hidden. Pricks poked the skin of his arms and where his clothes had rips in them from his days of running. It had been so long since he’d eaten anything that hunger gnawed his stomach; his skin pulled against his ribs. His tongue was swollen and felt like sandpaper, and his eyes burned from lack of sleep.



When the rustle of leaves and the crunching of sticks sounded behind him, his sluggish, sleep-deprived brain almost didn’t register the noise, but soon he was leaping to his feet, heart jolting into his throat as he spun around.



But it was haxorus. Wounded and tired.



N beamed, grinning. He was surprised he could still smile. The Pokemon staggered forward, using the trunk of a tree to steady herself.



I finally found you.



“Haxorus!” N ran to her and hugged her tight. Blood stained his shirt. “You are injured. We must get you to a Pokemon Center, haxorus. We must!”



Please. Don’t worry. I’m okay. She stumbled. N caught her the best he could, laying her on the ground so that she might rest, haxorus’ were not light Pokemon. His arms burned from the effort of it.



“Haxorus,” he repeated, kneeling beside her. “I will not be able to carry you, but I won’t leave you here. Not alone.”



I am alright. Have trust.



N shifted. After a moment, he said, “how did you escape?”



The Pokemon that belonged to that poor man who was killed by... your father. They allowed me to flee and find you. Many of them didn’t survive, N.



N shook his head, expression falling. More evil done by his father.



He took her Pokeball in his hand. “I’ll… someone will agree to heal you. Some Pokemon Center must have people still working inside. Perhaps one outside the city.”



N…



He held the Pokeball pointed toward her. Haxorus dissolved into a beam of white energy, absorbed through the center of the device. N stood. Someone would be able to heal her. He would not let her suffer, especially not when it was Ghetsis who caused that suffering.



There was a road leading to Nimbasa City nearby, he knew. He started in the direction he thought must be the correct one, based on where he had last stumbled on the road, pushing past the trees and the dense underbrush. By the time he reached it, the sun had retired; the sky above a vast plain of velvety blackness, pricked by dots of light like holes in a quilted blanket. A cold wind blew, ruffling his hair and his clothes.



Pockets of light from street lamps lined either side of the road. N could hear nothing but the buzzing of insect-like Pokemon and the distant calls of others. He did not think anyone was around, looking to his left, then to his right. Nimbasa City was a glimmer in the night. Should he go there to find a Pokemon Center, or look elsewhere?



He took a step, then stopped. There was something else to be heard. The soft tune of a person whistling.



Movement registered in the darkness, and then two figured stepped into the light of one of the street lamps. One, a zoroark; his arms crossed in a human-like way over his chest. The other, a young man, no older than N, with wispy red hair, hands in his pockets, wearing a gray undershirt and tie. There was a pack on his shoulders.



King. The trainer who had won the Vertress Tournament.



N was moving before he could think to stop himself. What King believed did not matter, not any longer. He was a trainer, and there was the possibility that he would be able to heal haxorus.



N moved in front of him, into the light. King froze, his eyes widening. His tune fell off, carried away by the breeze.



“Wow,” he said after a moment, looking to zoroark. “It’s this guy again.”



Zoroark nodded.



“Please,” N said, taking a step. “Please help me.”



King raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to demand I release my Pokemon?”



N did not answer. Instead, he held out haxorus’ Pokeball in his palm. King met his gaze. “I have changed. I no longer follow that path. But, please, haxorus is injured, and I do not know if I can help her alone.”



For a long time, King was silent. Then, zoroark and he exchanged a look.



“Yeah,” King said to his Pokemon. N gasped.



“You can speak to them?”



“What? Oh. No. Zoroark can talk.”



I can talk.



King continued before N could say anything more. “Well, I can get your Pokemon up to shape no problem, but you don’t look so great yourself. Why don’t you follow me? I’ll take you to the place I’m staying at, and you can grab a bite.”



He turned on his heel and began to walk away, whistling. Zoroark smiled at N: an odd expression for a Pokemon, but not unpleasant.



He has changed, you know, as it seems you have. His heart is much softer.



N shook his head in disbelief. He watched King’s retreating form. “Truly?”



Truly. King doesn’t think of us as tools. Not anymore.



Zoroark ushered him to follow, and they walked side by side as they trailed after King. N could not believe it. To think that someone who once did not even think of Pokemon as living beings could change so much. It was further proof of what Granny had once told him. That he bond between Pokemon and trainer was one of growth.



Further proof that everything N had done was for nothing. He had murdered Drayden for nothing.



He turned to zoroark. “So, if you would not mind, what happened to make him change that much, as you claim?”
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Thirty-Six:
Nimbasa City: King
​
King leaned back in the ladder-backed chair, resting an arm at the top rail of it. Zoroark lay on one of the motel room's beds, arms crossed behind his head, and across the lacquered wooden table from King, that N fellow scarfed down three plates worth of food like it was his last day living.



"I guess you were pretty hungry after all, huh?" King mused. N didn't slow, not even for a second, only gave a slight bob of his head. King grunted.



At that time of night, they had made it to King's temporary room in a motel unnoticed - a good thing, too, otherwise someone might have recognized N. As soon as they'd arrived, N demanded that King heal his haxorus. He did willingly, with the leftover potions he had tucked away in his pack. Once that was done, King had left the guy inside for a little bit while he stopped at a nearby diner to buy a few things.



He shifted in his seat. Dark brown paint covered the walls of the small room; the carpet the same color. Besides the table that the two of them relaxed at, the only other furniture was the two beds; each pushed against an opposite wall. Before King had brought food into the place, it'd stunk like no one had bothered to clean it in seventeen years. Now it was filled with the smell of grease, which reminded him of those times he would spend at one diner or another in Castelia City, not knowing how to cook worth a damn.



He wondered whatever happened with his apartment. He was sure that, at one point or another, his landlord had gotten his stuff out of there and called it a day, so that someone else with more money would be able to move in and take his place. Maybe one day he'd go back and apologize to her - if the city wasn't already buzzing with riots. The owner of the diner had explained to him that something nasty and god-awful, as he'd put it, had already happened in Nimbasa City.



Speaking of. "So. You been over to the main part of Nimbasa lately?"



N paused with his cheeseburger to his lips. He swallowed hard what he'd been chewing, put his food down, then nodded. "Yes. I have."



"And?"



"It is not good." N shook his head. "Not good at all. People have all but deserted the streets. That is, for now, anyway."



"What do you mean, 'for now'?" King asked, scooting his chair closer to the table, folding his arms on its surface.



N looked at his food, grimacing as if his appetite had completely fled him. He pursed his lips. "Team Plasma is gathering."



"Your organization is gathering, you mean."



"I am no longer affiliated with them, though I think the members still view me as the face of Team Plasma."



"That so?" King said. "Let's hear it, then. What did happen?"



Zoroark picked his head off the pillow, the old wood of the bed creaking under him, and sat at the edge of it, arms dangling on knees. N shifted, wiping his hands on a napkin, opening his mouth, then closing it again as if trying to decide what he wanted to tell King and what he didn't. That was understandable: the guy had gone through a lot to change that much, and the two of them weren't exactly best friends.



Finally, though, he started to speak. "It is… my father, King. Once - it feels like so long ago - but, once, I idolized him. Now, I've come to see how awful a man he really is."



Maybe we're not so different from one another after all. "Go on."



"He is the true leader of Team Plasma, you see. I… think that he has manipulated me my entire life, controlling me. He never allowed me from his sight, showing me things that led me to believe Pokemon were abused and killed each day by humans. There was a time, however, that a small squad of the police force ambushed us, and we were separated. My… significant other, at the time, who I had met in Vertress City - her name was Luna - found me, and together we traveled to Accumula Town. She was a trainer, you see, and with her, I was able to see a world that my father had been trying to hide from me my whole life. I was able to see that Pokemon and people can live in harmony."



"Does your father believe in this goal of Team Plasma?"



"No. He is a trainer. I can only guess his motivations, but he had always convinced me that to free Pokemon was his purpose in life."



"Ironic," King grunted. "I'm guessing that, since he wanted you to believe he hated trainers and everything, he wasn't too happy about Luna."



"No. He was not."



N stared with a blank look at his food. King raised an eyebrow. There was something that he wasn't saying. He didn't mind, though. Everyone had their secrets and the things that it was hard to talk about to other people. King was no different, and N probably wasn't either.



"So?" King said. "What are you planning on doing about this?"



"I have already tried to stop my father once and failed. That was how haxorus was injured," N said. "There is another chance. Team Plasma is gathering for a large rally inside Nimbasa City. I will go to this and tell them all what a grave mistake they are making. Surely, if they see that the face of their organization has changed his mind, then most of them will as well, or at the very least, doubt the road they've taken."



King rubbed his chin, looking N up and down. "Don't you think your father is going to do everything he can to stop you?"



"Yes. Without a doubt. He has six… five powerful trainers under his command, as well."



Five, huh? Standing, King threw his arms over his head, exhaling as he stretched. "Well, we can head to the city proper in the morning. For now, you should finish that food and then get some sleep. Originally, I'd gotten a room with two beds instead of one because of zoroark, but he won't mind. Ain't that right, buddy?"



King smiled at his Pokemon, who got to a stand without complaint.



"Uh, King?" N asked, sounding reluctant.



"Yeah?"



"What do you mean, 'we'?"



"I'm going with you. I figured, if your father is a trainer, and he's got those five with him, I can help you stop him. No need to thank me, or anything. I originally never planned on caring about what Team Plasma was doing, let alone getting involved with them, but things have gotten way out of hand if they're trashing cities now."



N smiled softly. "Thank you."



"Didn't I say there was no need?" King said, sitting on the bed and beginning to pull his shoes off.



"You really have changed, as zoroark claims. When I first met you, and I don't mean offense, but I thought of you as nothing more than… an asshole."



King snorted, chuckling. "None taken."



"So… I want to give you something."



King looked up, one shoe in his hand. When he did, N was standing, holding out a Pokeball. Haxorus' Pokeball.



King balked at it. "N. I can't take that."



"Please do. I am not fit to be a trainer, not after everything I've done."



Zoroark stepped beside N. He nodded to King.



A haxorus? She would be a welcome addition to his team under any circumstance, but could he take the Pokeball? She was N's, not his. But…



King sighed, grasping it. His fourth Pokemon.



"I have trust that you will take good care of her, after what I have seen and what zoroark has told me. She is very special." He returned to eating.



Zoroark sat next to King. It was the right choice.



He placed the Pokeball at the foot of his bed. "I hope so. Come on, let's get you in your Pokeball."



Sleep well.



"Right back at ya'." He returned zoroark, then placed him next to haxorus, unhooked rufflet and palpitoad, and put them there, as well, then tucked himself in for the night.



N soon finished his eating and clicked off the light. King heard the creak of the other bed as he got into it. Sleep came on for King quickly enough: a dreamless, deep, and peaceful slumber.



In the morning, the sunlight trickling in through the one window splayed across his eyes, waking him up. He blinked a few times, yawned, then looked across at the other bed.



N was gone.
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Thirty-Seven:
Nimbasa City: N​

N ran toward the dark spires that were the buildings of Nimbasa City, determination enough to keep his arms and legs pumping despite his ragged breaths. Thanks to King’s kindness, his hunger was sated, and although King had also shown his transformation by offering to help him stop Ghetsis and the Sages, N could not accept his aid.



He was thankful for it, of course, but he could not. Ghetsis might have manipulated him, but it was N who had formed Team Plasma. He had spoken all those times to the populace, convincing them that Pokemon were slaves. He had killed Drayden in the name of a cause he no longer believed in. That meant he had murdered someone for no reason.



He could have blamed his father, but he did not. It was his fault, and so he would fix everything himself. King did not need to endanger his life and the lives of his Pokemon to undo N’s mistakes.



The first buildings that lined the edge of the city blurred past him as he sprinted, feet slapping on the concrete. As before, there was not a soul in sight that he could see, but he heard something coming from the distant inner-city. A buzz like he had stuck his head inside a bees nest - the clamor of thousands of people, of Team Plasma.



The rally was beginning.



Through narrow alleyways and streets, he ran, the noise growing louder, the sun beating against the skin of his neck, glinting in the many windows of the city. Sweat made trails down his face.



He licked his lips as he ran, tasting salt. He did not have a plan, not exactly, for how he would get around Ghetsis if he tried to stop N with his Pokemon. Yet, if the people saw that his father was a trainer, and, in addition, saw that he was attacking N, surely they would side with N.



That was why he pushed himself to sprint. He could not be caught by Ghetsis when there was no one around to witness the exchange. He didn’t dare slow, not even for a second to catch his breath, and soon, with the blaring hum of conversation ringing in his ears, he turned a corner, and there they were, gathered in the center of the amusement park.



N staggered to a stop, panting hard. There were thousands, as he had guessed, squeezed between Ferris wheels and roller coasters like a river flowing around jutting rocks. There were clothes of every color. N could not see where his father or the Sages were, but he was positive they were somewhere nearby, waiting to make their speech.



He scanned the area. There must be somewhere to stand that would allow all of these people to see me.



There. A set of painted red stairs that led to a platform at the base of a Ferris wheel. It was there that he would make his stand.



Having regained his breath, he started toward it. Oddly, he began to think of the times when he was a small child when he would see his father and love him and hug him. Ghetsis had not been around often, but N recalled those days that he had as days that he was happiest. Had Ghetsis been evil, even back then?



Yes. He had. N still did not know the full reason, but it was then that his father began to show him dead and injured Pokemon.



He supposed that most of his life was a lie because of Ghetsis. The thought turned his stomach. He could not say with certainty that he loved the man as a father any longer. Once this was all over, once he had thwarted Ghetsis’ plans, perhaps his father could be redeemed. There could be a small amount of good left in him, even after everything he had done.



As he reached the edge of the crowd, the same thing that had happened in Castelia City happened again. People did not recognize him at first, but when he progressed further, his presence became known. Word of what he had said in that city hadn’t spread far, for people gasped and called out his name. Soon, each person was turning to look in his direction, some straining to catch a glimpse. People parted for him as if he were a celebrity. He did not necessarily like the attention, but it was what he had counted on: it was necessary if he were to show them the error of their ways. The error of what he had shown them.



He stepped on to the platform. He turned so that he was facing them. They waited expectantly to hear his words, beaming at him, eyes wide and mouth hung ajar or split into grins. He looked around at them.



N held out his arms, as he once did while giving a speech. He opened his mouth.



A crack like lightning, sharp and abrupt, made his close it again. N would recognize that sound anywhere.



A gunshot.



At first, he did not feel anything more than a slight impact, as if someone had lightly slapped him. He looked down. Blood seeped into the white cloth of his shirt. His arms fell limp, people screamed; one of his hands went to the wound at the center of his chest. The warm liquid coated his palm. So much. Why is there so much?



He staggered back. Someone had shot him.



The crowd erupted into a rampage of screams, distant echoes to N’s ears. Suddenly his legs no longer supported him. He fell to his knees, vision blurry, searching for who had done it.



The mob became a wave of movement and shouts and ferocious scrambling.



And then N saw him.



Standing at the far edge of the crowd was a man dressed in the uniform of a police officer. The hand that held the gun pointed toward N was charred and black.



It was his father, holding the gun that N once used to kill Drayden.



Ghetsis cackled. Some turned to look at him, pointing. Soon all saw who had fired the shot. A police officer, they would think.



N collapsed. What… what is happening? No… no… this cannot…



He clawed toward the edge of the platform. Black encroached at the corners of his vision. Strength fled his arms, until the point where he could no longer use them. He was cold. So very cold.



His eyes began to close, the blackness taking over. He still did not feel any pain, but the thoughts that came through his befuddled brain knew something was wrong.



Luna. So cold. He thought that if only he had Luna beside him, maybe then he would not be so cold.
 
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UncleKAKAA

Well-Known Member
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Thirty-Eight:
Nimbasa City: King
​
“N must have gone into the city. Where else would he be? He said there was that rally here and all that.”



Hm. That sounds reasonable to assume.



King scratched at his cheek, scanning the city as they walked. He barely saw anything other than broken glass shards glinting in the sun, along with discarded trash tumbling along the sidewalks, but N was bound to be somewhere in Nimbasa, and so King and zoroark kept on going. The wing was blowing hard, plastering King’s shirt to his chest, and he couldn’t hear anything besides its howling. It was strange to be in a city without the honking horns and the low hum of conversation.



“They trashed this place,” he said. “Seriously. The military must be having one hell of a time trying to fix everything. It’s ironic, though, that N’s the one to stop it, what with him having started it in the first place.”



You know he’s changed, King. It looked like he meant what he was saying to me.



King nodded slowly. “Suppose it did, zoroark. Suppose it-”



A loud crack interrupted him: a sound almost like a balloon popping. King recognized it, and froze in place, prompting zoroark to do the same.



What is it?



“That was a gunshot,” King said quietly.



More noise broke through the veil of silence, carried by the gusts as if the gunshot were the first rock falling before a massive avalanche. Gradually, the distant hum grew louder until King could decipher what he was hearing. Screams and shouts. People crying out. He thought he could hear the roar of car engines and wailing sirens.



He nudged zoroark’s arm, then broke into a run. It all appeared to be coming from one direction. “Come on, that’s probably the rally! It sounds like they’re rioting.”



Zoroark kept pace to his right, long, red and black hair streaming out behind him. Why would someone shoot a gun?



They turned a corner. Cars abandoned at the sides of streets blurred by them. “I don’t know, zoroark. We’re about to find out.”



King’s heart thrummed in his ears as he ran, arms pumping. Was N alright? If he had started to speak in front of the crowd, and they hadn’t liked what he’d told them, that bullet might have had his name on it. The thought turned King’s stomach, permeating his mouth with a bitter taste. N was trying to fix his mistakes and do what was right. King knew what that was like, and it wasn’t always easy.



The tops of Ferris wheels and the curving tracks of roller coasters were visible above the roofs of buildings long before they ever reached the amusement park in the center of the city. The rioting seemed to be escalating, from what King could hear, until it sounded as though he and zoroark were right on top of it.



They turned another corner. King stumbled and would have fallen if zoroark hadn’t caught him. He couldn’t even form the words in his mouth to thank the Pokemon.



The people were going insane. They were destroying some of the attractions, knocking over vending machines, toppling benches. Blood splattered the pavement from where people fought one another; for reasons King could only begin to guess. The acrid smell of smoke drifted in the air, trailing from the tongues of lapping flame that engulfed sections of the park. People ran, scattering, while others chanted ‘down with the government!’. A news helicopter circled above.



“These are all Team Plasma members? What the hell set them off so much?” King asked, bewildered. He had to shout so zoroark could hear him, even though the Pokemon stood right beside him. “Come on! We have to find N!”



He darted forward, zoroark close at his heels. He moved this way and that to avoid those running by him, away from the rioting. Not all of them had completely lost their sense of reason and had it replaced with a feral need to destroy things, it seemed. What the hell is wrong with these people?



He didn’t have any idea where N was, but he would have chosen somewhere high up, where the whole crowd could see him if he was going to give a speech. But where was that? Or was he even in that spot any longer?



Why did he have to run off like that? I offered to help the damn guy. I offered to help!



Look! There! King spun to look where zoroark was pointing. A platform below a Ferris wheel, where people would step onto before they entered one of the cars. There was a body there, face down and unmoving. The man had long green hair.



N.



“They shot him,” King whispered. “They ****ing shot him!”



He started in that direction when something crashed into him, sending him sprawling on the ground. His head smacked against the pavement, making his eyes go blank for a moment. When he came to, spots of light danced across his blurry vision, and a bearded face snarled at him. Hands gripped his shoulders.



“Trainer!” The man shouted, spittle flying. “Trainer!’



King clamped his jaw, trying to wriggle his way out, but the man kept him pinned. He reeled an arm back, blocking out the sun. King flinched, grimacing.



Suddenly the weight was off of him. He blinked as zoroark helped him stand.



“Thanks, buddy,” he said, using zoroark to steady himself. Zoroark nodded. The man lay sprawled out a few feet away, groaning and holding his stomach. King turned his eyes back toward the platform.



The attention. It’s on us now.



People had stopped in their rampaging to point and gasp. They were going to try and stop King, maybe even injure him. Or kill him. Where was the person who had the gun?



“I don’t care,” King said, shaking his head. “We have to get to N and-”



He stopped himself mid-sentence, become aware of the sirens blaring over the noise of the riot. Within seconds, box-shaped, black cars drove in from where King had come from, pulling together in a line to block off the street. Police in helmets and bullet-proof vests filed out, carrying riot shields on their arms.



The attention turned away from King. Some were already charging the police, but most just shouted at them. The fires throughout the park raged, heating the air, tendrils licking the sky, and creating a haze of smoke.



“Zoroark. Let’s get to N!”



The Pokemon nodded, taking hold of King’s shirt. He leaped, pulling King along.



King landed roughly, banging his knees on the metal. He ignored the pain, squatting next to N. He wasn’t moving. Blood had seeped into the cloth of his shirt, staining it crimson. King laid a hand on his shoulder. His skin looked pale.



He almost didn’t want to flip him, but N needed help. He was still alive, and King would have to take him somewhere where they could heal his injuries, wherever that damn person, whoever it was, had shot him. N had tried to do what was right, after so long of being in the wrong, and someone shot him for it. The world was a cruel place with awful, misinformed, and stupid people if they’d shot N for that.



Slowly, he pulled, turning N onto his back. King froze, his breath snagging in his throat, eyelids peeling back from his eyes.



There was a hole in the left portion of his chest. The sound of shouting and fires and stomping police officers, it all seemed to vanish, swallowed by silence. N’s eyes were gray, without light; his face the color of the sky when it snows.



King swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in his throat, and wiped his face with a hand. He admitted to himself what he’d known since seeing N laying face down, not moving a single muscle.



He was dead. King had heard stories of what dead people looked like, but this was the first time he had ever seen one himself, had ever looked into their eyes. Nothing could have prepared him for it. It was only the night before that N had scarfed down three whole meals in one sitting, laughing while he did it. How could he have known? How could he have known that the next day would be his last?



Zoroark laid a claw on King’s shoulder. We must leave. Look.



King turned. The police had formed a line, placing their shields together. A dozen amoonguss took formation behind them, shooting spores into the air. People dropped like flies, falling asleep when they came into contact with the transparent yellow clouds.



He let zoroark lead him away from all of it and only allowed himself to think when they were on the outskirts of the city, far away from it all. Far away from N.



He slumped against the wall, placing his arms on his knees. He shook his head. “N should have let me help him. Dammit! He shouldn’t have run off like that. Maybe I could have done…. Something.”



Zoroark sat beside him. The Pokemon looked incredibly sad, though King couldn’t decide how he could tell. It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself.



“Do you know what this means, zoroark?” King said, turning.



Hm. No. What?



“N will become a martyr. I don’t know who killed him, but he was the symbol for Team Plasma. His name will become a rallying call for all these people to rise against the government. I have a feeling that trainers like myself won’t be too safe. Who the hell knows if I’ll be able to finish the gym challenge, now?



I’ll stay with you. I’ve already decided that I will, and no matter what happens now, my mind will not change.



King smiled, standing. “I hope N at least got to say part of his speech. Thank you, zoroark. The world, or at least Unova, is about to change a whole lot, I think. A whole damn lot. I… just hope we’re ready for it. Jeez, with all these people proclaiming that using Pokemon is wrong, it makes a guy start to doubt himself.”



Zoroark stood as well. Don’t, King. You’re doing the right thing.



“Yeah. I hope so. Come on, let’s go… somewhere. Forget the Nimbasa gym. Anywhere but here.”
 
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