Scyther's Story (Death is not to be feared), NaNoWriMo 2006

[Malachite Treecko]

Hmm.... this chapter confims that you make this for your unwritten - or simply no-yet-placed-at-your-website - IALCOTN, it isn't like the ILCOE Scyther-introduce-chapter at all. I like it, but one thing I was expecting was that...

When Scyther holds Mark with his scythe, he gets reminded of that boy he killed for First Prey. That would really be a thing to write.

I also wonder, maybe that boy Razor killed could get some more references? Like his brother that wants to avenge or anything... I know this sounds completely stupid but I still like such references.

 

[Dragonfree]

Um, how the heck would that boy's brother know anything about which Scyther it was that killed him? It wouldn't make any sense to have some guy come into the story suddenly and want revenge for that incident.

There is, however, always the possibility of some fleeting mention of somebody whose brother was killed by a Scyther four years before - and in fact there is a whole bunch of references of that sort planned for the Ouen League chapters. But there will never be any more made of that, or any revenge subplot. No one knows that this particular Scyther killed this particular boy - not even Scyther himself, because he doesn't know the boy's name. It just wouldn't make sense.

Hmm.... this chapter confims that you make this for your unwritten - or simply no-yet-placed-at-your-website - IALCOTN, it isn't like the ILCOE Scyther-introduce-chapter at all.

Um, that's exactly what I said above the chapter.

I like it, but one thing I was expecting was that...

When Scyther holds Mark with his scythe, he gets reminded of that boy he killed for First Prey. That would really be a thing to write.

It does remind him of that boy, but more subconsciously. It's one of the reasons he takes a strange liking to Mark and feels sorry for him; it's his conscience prodding him into somehow "making up for" killing the other boy. And ironically, this happens because of how humanized his stay with Rob has made him - he hasn't killed anything for three years, and his underlying guilt for his previous hunting is summarized in this part:

Razor thought about it. He thought of the human he had killed as his First Prey. He thought of the many small Pokémon he had killed for food. He sighed.

“Of course we have a conscience,” he finally replied. “But predators have no business letting pity control what they do. You’re probably a nice kid and all, but there are many things a great deal more important to me than your life, and Rob’s happiness is one of them.”

Note how he thinks about prey that he did manage to kill just fine before - but still comes to the conclusion that yes, of course he has a conscience, because he is feeling guilt for it now. At the same time he doesn't want to admit to himself that he's softened up since those days.

 

[Malachite Treecko]

Oh, sorry for all my mistakes. Why I said my idea was completely stupid was just because how could the brother know. But maybe those girls he was with went and said it to the boy's family? And, so you don't need to say that too to me (and so I don't seem completely stupid), I know that the boy maybe was on a journey and his family maybe didn't live in the next town.

I've read the last chapter now, it was short but sweet. This story is good overall, and it makes an interesting backstory that makes TQftL a bit more complex. Your way of writing is wonderful and it reminds me of J. K. Rowling's way to write. There aren't many grammar errors (if there are any at all), and you make the story flow very natural and not too confusing. This, and TQftL, are the best fanfics I've read. Also, the "What if..." section of your TQftL minisite is really funny.

 

[Dragonfree]

Of course the girls told the boy's family he was attacked by a Scyther, but it's not like that automatically tells the boy's family which of the hundreds if not thousands of Scyther in Ruxido killed him. As such it would make any revenge campaign impossible - unless the guy actually decided to go and attempt to exterminate the entire Scyther population of Ruxido, and that would just be a downright dumb thing to do. Of course the boy's family knows and of course they're angry, but there is just no possible way they could link it to Razor of all Scyther, and nothing they could use to search for the right Scyther if that's what you were thinking because it's not like the girls photographed him. :/

 

[Sike Saner]

There were two things in particular about that chapter that I thought were pulled off very nicely, and those are 1.) Razor’s reaction to how seeing Mew again after all those years affected Rob, and 2.) the scene in which Razor and Mark were talking. The understanding of the character’s thought processes shown here never ceases to impress me. Great use of psychology, as usual. ^^

Other highlights:

During the course of the three years since Razor had been caught, he had gotten to know Rob and his other Pokémon better than he had ever known his Scyther friends, drunk a hell of a lot of beer, and, albeit unknowingly, swiped a world record as the Pokémon most frequently kicked out of a bar for being drunk and swinging his scythes around too carelessly for comfort.

XD Priceless image.

Scyther sighed. “I thought you had gotten over Mew,” he muttered, but it wasn’t entirely truthful. It had been more of a distant hope, already contradicted many times.

Rob looked sharply at him. “Do you think, if you saw your Nightmare standing in front of you, back as a Scyther, that you would simply walk away?” he whispered.

Razor wondered.

He wouldn’t.

But he sighed anyway, because he had a bad feeling about this. He didn’t really know why.

Ooh. Sharp counter on Rob’s part, there. I liked Razor’s thoughts following it, as well.

Razor slowly positioned himself to fight for his life. “What happened to the Rob I knew?” he asked quietly.

Rob never replied to that.

An example of how sometimes no response says much more than any words could. ^^

“Fangcat, return!” he heard Rob shout. The feline dissolved into red energy, which only amplified the pain as the fang was no more and he was instead left with a wide hole all the way through his upper body.

That the sensation of what it would feel like to have something that’s pierced through you suddenly dematerialize is actually described here is something I found very cool. =D


Boss work once again, and I’ll be back here for the conclusion. =)

 

[Dragonfree]

Sike Saner: I've always really liked the scene where Razor talks to Mark. It's changed a lot throughout the many revisions, but I'm always as fond of it because after all that one conversation made me fall in love with Scyther's character and decide I wanted him to be in the fic for good, hehe. I'm glad you liked the psychology.

But it's Part VII time! This is the final part, so yes, the fic is over after it. It's only one chapter, as I've said before, so it's very short. To know what happened after that, you need to read The Quest for the Legends if you haven't already. Now, because it's the final part, I would like to encourage everyone who has been closet reading to come out and comment. It doesn't matter if you can't think of anything interesting to say. Just say something, anything, about how you thought I pulled it off, any questions or concerns you have, pointing out something wrong or confusing or badly worded, anything. It being finished doesn't mean I don't want to hear how it could be improved. You know how I am with rewriting.

PART VII: SECOND CHANCE​

XL

It is such a shame when the young die…

Especially when one knows that when it comes right down to it, it is one’s own fault.

It was such a beautiful voice. He wanted to listen to it speak forever.

Razor was vaguely aware of himself, but he couldn’t sense anything. There was only the voice in its heavenly beauty, existing somewhere inside his mind.

He felt so comfortable, so hazy. If this was death, he should have committed suicide long ago…

Your life was meant to be longer…

The voice…

It was so beautiful…

He realized he was hearing something else now, truly hearing it, not in his mind like the voice. It became clearer with every passing moment.

It was Rob, and he was weeping.

Razor wanted to talk to him, comfort him, but he didn’t know where he was.

He felt cold air. He smelled sweat and blood. He felt a sharp sting of pain in his torso.

He gasped for breath, opening his eyes. He found air.

He could breathe again.

The world spun around before his eyes before clicking back into place. He was in the Gym. He was alive.

“I’m back…” he whispered hoarsely and looked at his upper body. There was no sign of a wound anymore.

He crawled to his feet and looked around.

The window was broken. Shards of glass littered the floor below it.

All the Pokémon, in the middle of battle, had stopped dead to stare at one thing, which Razor looked at as well, tracing their gazes to a couple of meters above him.

Floating there in the air was a pink, plain-looking Pokémon with a small, furred body, stubby triangular ears, a long, narrow tail and deep, sapphire blue eyes.

It was Mew.

And Rob was watching it from the other end of the room, stunned in disbelief, his eyes filled with tears. Lying on the floor around him, Razor could see the broken remains of his Pokéball.

Everything began to piece itself together now in Razor’s mind… he had died, Rob had regretted ordering him killed, broken his Pokéball in remorse, and then, inexplicably, Mew had arrived and given him a second chance…

“He knows nothing that is of any worth to you,” said the beautiful voice to Rob, and Razor realized it was Mew’s. “I am never for long in the same place, as you should know! Let him go and return his Pokémon. In return, they will not report you to the human authorities.”

Rob dropped to his knees, looking as if he was about to burst into tears again, the boy’s Pokéballs falling out of his hand and rolling around the floor.

“As for me…” Mew continued with a playful twinkle in its eyes, “catch me if you can.”

The legendary’s sapphire blue eyes looked meaningfully at Rob before it vanished into thin air.

Rob’s gaze turned to Razor.

“Scyther…” he breathed weakly. “You must help me get Mew now…”

Razor looked at him, that pitiful victim of irrational obsession, and could only shake his head.

“You’ve changed,” he said softly. “With Mew around, you’re not the Rob I’m willing to fight for. Your obsession poisons your mind. I could stay with you if you gave up on Mew, but you won’t. I can’t stand this.”

Rob looked at him, the understanding that Razor had always linked to him returning to his eyes. The man sighed and looked down. Neither of them noticed the two children make for the exit with the boy’s Pokéballs.

“No,” he replied quietly. “You’re right. I’m pretty ****ed up, you know? I have to search for Mew. I can’t live without it, any more than you could live without chasing your Nightmare if she were a Scyther again. I’m sorry.”

“Then I wish you the best of luck,” Razor said, hearing his voice tremble. “Goodbye, Rob. We might see each other again one day.”

“Goodbye, Scyther,” Rob whispered. “I hope your life changes for the better.”

Razor glanced at his trainer with grief for the last time before bitterly forcing his gaze away. He took flight again on his recovered wings and buzzed out towards freedom through the broken glass.

He flew at the highest speed he could muster over the city, overcome with grief. He eyed Rainbow Woods on one side and tall mountains on the other. What would he do now? Where would he go? What was there for him out there? Where was Nightmare now?

The last question pained him. He slowed down and finally landed on the flat rooftop of a tall building to sit down and think about what to do now.

What was there for him out there, indeed? He was a failure as a Scyther. He could never return to the swarm. Nightmare was already coming back to plague his thoughts.

Death had been so comfortable…

He realized that the only thing that had given him purpose for the past three years was Rob, battling for him, doing his best for him. Without a trainer, he had nothing to live for.

He looked down at the city. He saw the Pokémon Center, and two familiar children approaching it in a hurry.

Mark, she had called the boy, hadn’t she?

Razor thought back to the conscience question and chuckled. He hadn’t seemed too bad.

The Scyther stood up, feeling the cool wind stroke his body. He walked slowly to the very edge of the roof and looked down at the street below – and the Pokémon Center at the other end of that very street.

Smiling to himself, he took a deep breath, prepared his wings for fast, straight flight, and jumped.

 

[jirachiman876]

And everything from then on was bliss. Eh, not really. Sorry I didn't reply before the last chap but I just couldn't find anything to really comment on. Twas all good, along with the fact that your fics are really the only ones Im kinda scared to review. I think tis the fact that QftL was the first thing i read here.

Anyway, good work, ended at the right place, nothing really more to add I guess heh heh. Great description like always, great battles scenes, and basically great everything. I really like your conversations really, they're very realistic ya know??? Meh but that's just my opinion. Well hopefully now we're gonna get more QftL since this is done eh???
jirachiman out ;385;

 

[sandos]

Nice ending there. I just felt it could have...I dunno...included Mark? However, apart from that it was really good. I'm glad you didn't change it too much from the ILCOE version. I thought you made Mark out to be a bit wimpy...although it was fairly understandable with the situation he was in. I can't really find anything more to say, except that this was very good, the best fic I've read in ages. I'll always see Scyther in a different light from now on.

EDIT: YAY! New rank!

~;262;

 

[Infinite Master Sceptile]

Whoah. This is great backstory. You are indeed a talented writer. Have you ever considered doing it professionally?
Anyway, I've read your work for at least a year and a half. Yours was the first fanfiction I read. And it set the bar so high, there are few others I can ever tolerate. What's even more amazing is that English isn't your native language, yet you manage to use it better than most native English speakers.
The world you constructed, and the elaborate mythological situation, are gripping, and when I read a chapter of TQFL, I feel as if I'm watching the action firsthand. The best thing you do overall is characterization of Pokemon, something almost no other author does well, even the high-caliber ones here.
Pokemon are no longer beasts, but sentient, sympathetic beings with their own unique worldview, ideas, dreams, desires, and emotions.
This backstory on Scyther greatly enriches the quality of TQFL.
Bravo to you, and get the next chapter of TQFL up soon!

 

[sandos]

Just a little comment: I didn't find it much of an R. I'm younger than 17 and found myself unaffected by it-except the profanity, and I hear worse at school. And I'm usually sensetive to higher ratings...there are some twelves my parents don't want me to watch. Just felt like pointing that out.

~;262;

 

[Dragonfree]

The profanity is still there, along with a boy having his arm nearly cut off and killed, disturbing rituals in which newborns are showered with blood, self-mutilation, suicide attempts, the main character getting run through with a huge fang... I'm fairly certain this would be rated R if it were a movie. :/ Of course, when people rate their fanfiction they tend to kind of follow their own standards, and would perhaps only make this a PG-13, but when the fact is that only a few movies have gotten past the MPAA with more than three instances of "f*ck" and still gotten a PG-13 rating, and this contains a whole lot of blood, death, etc. to go with it, I really feel it's safer to call it an R. (According to the Wikipedia article on the MPAA rating system, bloodshed generally gives an R, anyway.)

But I did, after all, at the beginning where I included the rating, only say that it contained material which could "disturb sheltered children", which does not exactly imply that I would take this R overly seriously. Of course most teenagers would be perfectly fine with it; I'm not even seventeen myself! But when have ratings ever meant people under the specified age are going to break down and cry? You NEED to be pretty darn sheltered to be irreversibly affected by all R-rated movies.

Well hopefully now we're gonna get more QftL since this is done eh???

Yes. I'm on the third page of chapter 34, and am foreseeing that it might actually end up being pretty long. Funny, since before I was worried what the heck I would do with this chapter, and now I'm suddenly realizing there's a whole lot of things that need to be done in it.

I just felt it could have...I dunno...included Mark?

o.o Why? The story is about Scyther, and I felt this was a much better place to end it than after some conversation with Mark. I think it would have felt abrupt that way.

I thought you made Mark out to be a bit wimpy...

When has he ever not been a bit wimpy? He's not an OMGBRAVE! character, and as you say it is quite natural to be frightened when you've got a Scyther holding his scythe up to your throat with a madman threatening to kill you if you don't tell him something that you don't know in the first place.

You are indeed a talented writer. Have you ever considered doing it professionally?

Thank you. And yes, my dream job would be to be a writer.

 

[Oathblivion]

Whew, finally done... I read QFTL in its entirety and this in three days (fast by my standards. I'm not a fast reader.), and I must say that I'm extremely impressed. Your stories have pro quality to them, aside from a few grammar errors and a few typos, which I haven't seen in very many authors. Also, If I read correctly, English isn't your native language, correct? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but that makes it all the better to me. Okay, now onto the semi-deep parts of the fic.

First, applause for taking a species that hardly anyone thinks about and giving them a culture on par with humans'. The rituals and sacred laws were obviously well thought out, and the part about their beliefs about the clouds and the Sun and Moon as well. On an off note, Descith was adorable.

Okay, more applause and a cookie for giving us every (or nearly every) detail running through Razor's mind at a given time. I know I shouldn't be suprised considering how you did the exact same thing in the main fic, but still...

I also find your portrayal of concepts such as death and how it feels to be cut with an exceedingly sharp blade. Things that most people never think about.

Meh, there are other things to review, but I have zero aptitude for reviewing. To say any more would be more rambling. All in all I do believe I like your work because it makes you think. Oh, and also because someone finally agrees with me on the whole scyther/scizor thing... *runs to review QFTL*

 

[CHeSHiRe-CaT]

AND SO COMES...

...the long-ish review of doom.

The small creature looked up at her with large, attentive eyes. The small Descith had a head similar to that of his parents, but much bigger in proportion to his body. He looked hesitantly at his nearly cone-shaped feet and at the useless arms, already with the precise curved shape of the adults’ scythes, but the blade itself missing.

I've always wondered what a newborn Descith (pwnage term) would have looked like. Underdeveloped scythes; very realistic. Maybe you should sprite that.

He brought his foot onto the trunk, but hesitated. Something told him he would fall if he just tried to walk up it like he walked on the ground.

He walked around the tree, observing how the trunk also had another side that he couldn’t see from each particular point of view, no matter how he tried. When one bit came into view, another always disappeared off the other side. Strange.

After experimenting with this for a few minutes and realizing that this rule appeared impossible to trick, he noticed that there was a low branch only inches above his head. He poked the branch. It was solid too.

Excellent description of a child's perspective.

From the branch above him hung a sleeping green pupa, immobile as its inner body was going through the final steps of transformation into a beautiful Butterfree. Of course the young Descith had no idea that it was called a Metapod or that it was metamorphosing. In fact, he did not initially assume it was alive. He poked it curiously with his scythe and watched it with glee as it swung back and forth. He prodded it more powerfully to make it swing farther.

Haha.

Its two fine black antennae quivered as the newly-evolved Butterfree flapped its wings experimentally, finally taking off with a high-pitched cry of “Fweeee!”

I used to make that noise at my stepmom when I was littler. She hates Pokemon now. xD

The funny thing was that they did not especially need those stories. Humans were curious creatures who could never be satisfied with a “We don’t know.” They needed something to believe, truth or not. But the Scyther were not that way, nor were any other Pokémon. They were perfectly content with knowing something could be relied on to happen, and didn’t need to know why it was.

It simply happened to be so that certain individuals had more of this tendency than others did.

Mmm, in a certain sense, I think this is a good belief, other than without creativity, there's no other point to my life.

Stormblade and Razor continued to be friends. They dueled at every opportunity, excited to trigger each other’s evolution. Both of their scythes grew, Stormblade’s to full size and Razor’s to what Stormblade’s had been when they had first met.

It's only fun if there's a chance of getting into trouble. =D

When the glow faded away, Stormblade was a full-grown Scyther with shiny, metallic scythes.

He grinned.

“You two are next.”

Flecking sweeeeeeeeeet. xD


Ahhh, and I also see you drew the Descith. Looks like what I expected, mm-hm.

“So,” the Leader finally said as the last of the Scyther seemed to have settled down, “you’re becoming adults. With your evolution, you entered your adolescence. Right now you are in a very difficult stage of your lives, because you are physically capable of so many things that you weren’t before. You can duel. You can fly. You can mate. I understand that all of these things sound very exciting to you – mating especially so…” He stopped, silencing the nervous giggling that had ensued with a sharp glare. “But, unfortunately for you, that won’t happen for another year or so.”

How'd I know THAT was coming? Mating. Teehee.

“Congrats, mate,” he said and grinned as the glow faded away and left Shadowdart in his new body. “Too bad you still look like a girl,” he commented snidely, noticing Shadowdart’s still darker-than-usual color.

The only reply was a nasty glare.

Awww. >3

He stood deathly still as only a Scyther could, his sharp eyes darting around to locate the source of the sound. There it was again. It was a language he had never heard spoken before and did not entirely recognize, but had heard about and understood.

Human language.

In perfect silence maintained by his hunter’s instinct, Razor crept in the direction of the voices. He could see where they came from – it was the Ruxido road, an area that the Scyther generally kept away from because of the danger of being captured by the many human trainers who passed by there.

That sent chills down my spine for some reason. @_@;

The boy crawled desperately to his feet, never ceasing to scream for help at the top of his lungs. Razor quickly leapt on top of him to hold him down to the ground, knocking the wind out of him in the process. Now Razor was starting to feel slight panic; he was realizing just how many things could so easily go wrong.

“No…” the boy panted weakly. “Gr-Growlithe, I choose…”

And he reached for a Pokéball with his hand, but Razor noticed it in time. He had no time to do anything but the first thing he could think of – which was, predictably, to slash in the direction of the human’s arm. Razor closed his eyes as he did it.

The boy screamed again, louder than before if anything. Razor opened his eyes. He had slashed roughly across the boy’s forearm below his wrist. He had not quite chopped it off, but through the oozing blood he could see that it was close. Of course, it looked rather ordinary to him. It just made him feel hungry.

A just over fist-sized ball rolled out of the boy’s limp hand and stopped by the roadside before it popped open on its own accord, releasing an orange, furry puppy. He yelped at the sight of his trainer lying in a pool of blood, first backing away but then growling nervously at Razor, unsure if it would do any good to unleash a Fire attack when it would most likely hit his trainer as well.

Finally the puppy went with jumping onto his trainer’s chest to defend him, sinking his small fangs into Razor’s arm, but the Scyther simply flung the Growlithe to the ground where he, with another yelp, fell unconscious.

He turned back to his prey.

“No… please, n-no…” the boy’s broken voice sobbed between irregular breaths. Razor looked at his face. The strange human features, smudged with tears and blood, were distorted into an expression of pure terror.

“P-please let me go…”

The horrified human opened his wide, tearful eyes and looked into Razor’s cold, empty ones.

“Please…” he whispered.

Razor felt his stomach coiling into a knot. The boy’s terror almost made him feel bad about killing him.

Almost.

He raised his scythe as the boy closed his eyes again with uncontrollable sobs. Razor looked at the boy one more time with a twinge of guilt before making the final sharp cut across his quivering throat.

Aaaaand, that justifies my spine-tingling sensations. Wow. Unheard of. Stepping over that line placed in most fics makes you a God to me. o.o;

“I’ll… I’ll show you, both of you,” Shadowdart just said before storming off in an attempt to look determined.

Stormblade sighed.

“Think he’ll actually do it?”

“Him? Not a chance. Hey, look at those females over there…”

XDDDDDD-ness.

Beautiful, but dangerous, frightening; terrible but fascinating. Negative – which was always a dangerous thing when giving someone a name – but so very fitting he couldn’t resist.

“…Nightmare.”

She showed no particular reaction to the name in her expression – it was still the same one of disdain, mild amusement, superiority. Perhaps only because she found that it was still appropriate.

“Well, then I’ll have to give you a name as well, won’t I?” she said calmly but with poison dripping off every word. She thought for only a fraction of a second before proceeding in a low, malicious hiss:

“Scizor.”

Owch. That must have been a low blow. I smell foreshadowing...

Immediately, he crouched down so it wouldn’t see him. Leta weren’t the largest prey around, but they were difficult to catch thanks to the powerful Letaligon always watching over their young, and to boot, their meat was excellent. He kind of wanted his mouth to water at the sight of it, but it didn’t. Looking at it alive didn’t make him hungry at all; it just made him squirm uncomfortably.

I would have never thought that of Leta. Good background information to add on your Pokemon; not to mention you should consider writing a Pokemon meal menu listing the textures and recipes that can be made from their meat. =3

He tried again, but his scythe just wouldn’t move, no matter what he told it. He felt increasingly awful with every passing moment. The witnesses were probably snickering behind him.

Just do it already, damn it!

But he couldn’t.

Oh, God, no...

“I challenge you to a true duel, right here and now!”

The last word had barely left his lips when he realized what a dumb move that had been. A true duel ended in death, and given that her elegant movements, quick reactions and beautiful way of handling her scythes had been what had made her stand out to him in the first place, he had very little hope of winning.

But he couldn’t take back a challenge.

Nightmare’s face broke into a grin. “A true duel, with you? Hah! Somebody’s suicidal! Been breaking the Code, now, have you?”

He ignored the taunt. “We’ll see who gets killed.”

Oh, the drama! I'm really getting into this now, but I'm scared. D:

“No,” he said and slowly lowered his scythe. “No,” he repeated and shook his head.

To the astonished looks of the Leader and the swarm, he turned towards the forest and dashed off towards nowhere in particular.

Incidentally, it was the same direction as Nightmare had dashed off in a couple of hours earlier.

Ahhh, I've been waiting for that.

“Ooh, Razor is in love.”

“Yes,” Razor replied excitedly. “Yes, I am.”

Stormblade looked sadly at his friend.

“Well, you can’t exactly return to the swarm from now, can you?”

“I don’t give a damn about the swarm!” Razor shouted, grinning widely.

Stormblade smiled. He couldn’t help it.

“Good luck, Razor,” he said softly. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again one day.”

“Take care of Shadowdart,” Razor answered. “It’s been great knowing you.”

“Goodbye, Razor.”

“Goodbye, Stormblade.”

How touching, and empowering. Makes me grin like Razor.

The ball stilled, the red glow on the button in the middle of it fading away, and a little ping indicated a successful capture.

No!

The boy picked up the ball. “Whahey, I caught a Scyther!” he exclaimed happily, attaching the Pokéball to his belt. He paused only momentarily before sprinting back towards where he had come from.

Razor followed him while dread built up in his mind.

Crap. :/

His last conscious thought was that justice had found both of them after all: her a Scizor and him left to bleed to death far away from home.

Then his awareness drifted away and he was left alone and dying in a strange place, having lost all that was worth anything to him.

That was how a bearded man with wild blue eyes found him later that day.

Mew Hunter.

“It’s okay. I won’t put you in there again if you don’t want it. You can stay here tonight. Try to get some sleep.”

Razor was very tired, but hazily surprised by what this human was turning out to be like. He couldn’t help thinking he was actually fairly nice.

“Good night, Scyther.”

“Good night, Rob,” Razor mumbled back.

Had he turned around, he would have seen the human smile as he exited the room.

I feel all warm inside. x3

You're showing some insightful perspective into acceptance of being caught, not just in Razor's case, but maybe in general. Of course, the hesitancy could vary depending on the trainer, but Rob is awfully nice. :3 This bit has shown me things I probably would have overlooked, such as the training and how Pokemon actually enjoyed battling. It hasn't been outright said, but hinted at in dialogue or description of most fics. Thank you for that; I feel enlightened.

Rob smiled and took out Razor’s Pokéball. It was different from the others, he noticed; the upper half of it was bright purple and had a small white M in the middle. But by the time he had finished thinking that, he was already dissolving into immaterial form.

Wha? O-o Master Ball?

The bartender sighed again. “I’ll put up with it, Rob, but only because you guys are regulars.”

Rob ignored the comment. “Beers for all of us, please.”

He waved some bills in the bartender’s face, which the bald man reluctantly accepted.

“Honestly, though…” he muttered. “Last time Kabutops nearly caused a serious accident. You better be taking care of that. Pokémon are way too quick to get seriously drunk.”

Hmm...beer...Scyther.

“Slash the bubbles away!” Rob growled, but he wouldn’t have needed to; Sneasel appeared to have just had the same idea. He danced around with his claws in the air, popping the bubbles with ease one after another while gleefully shouting something in the direction of “DIE!” at each bubble.

Funny imagery there. xD

An ancient instinct was making him excited at the sight of true battling of wits and skill – but at the same time he knew how wrong it was to feel that way.

Don't suppress it, baby.

“Surprise,” Feraligatr said with a grin before opening his huge mouth and spraying out a jet of high-pressure water straight towards the ghost Pokémon.

“ARGH IT’S COLD IT’S COLD!” Haunter screamed, blasted into the ceiling by the force of the Hydro Pump.

I lol'd at that part.

“Okay, Murkrow, this is ugly, but we have no choice! Perish Song!”

Coward.

“****…” Rob muttered as he grabbed Razor’s limp scythe and saw the cuts on his arm. He picked the Pokémon up and carried him hurriedly into the back room where he laid him down on the bed and rummaged through some cupboards.

Owch. I was going to say "emo Scyther," but let's pretend I wasn't.

During the course of the three years since Razor had been caught, he had gotten to know Rob and his other Pokémon better than he had ever known his Scyther friends, drunk a hell of a lot of beer, and, albeit unknowingly, swiped a world record as the Pokémon most frequently kicked out of a bar for being drunk and swinging his scythes around too carelessly for comfort.

And so brings us back up to speed. xD

Razor nodded. He had, clearly and vividly. It was definitely no hallucination – but how could it be?

“And did you see the boy?”

Razor nodded again, because indeed he had, and he was still looking at him: it was a young, dark-haired kid standing on a balcony in the building above them, which was incidentally the Cleanwater City hotel. The boy leant forward for a second, but then turned back inside.

Razor looked back at Rob. The man’s gaze flickered strangely.

“And did you hear what he said?”

As Rob put up a strange, twisted smile that Razor had never seen before, the Scyther nodded yet again.

‘Well, I know where you’ll be,’ the boy had called to Mew just before it teleported away.

Hoes snap. *insert creepy MSN grin here* Stewpid boi.

The boy stared at him in horror and began to quickly attempt to stand up as Rob took out a Pokéball. “Scyther, according to plan!” Rob hissed as he threw the ball and Razor began to materialize in the air. With a Scyther’s quick reflexes, he immediately leapt straight at the boy, knocking him into the wall before quickly adjusting his grip on him so that he couldn’t move. He positioned his right scythe quickly and precisely in front of the boy’s throat.

A wave of nostalgia...

“He knows nothing that is of any worth to you,” said the beautiful voice to Rob, and Razor realized it was Mew’s. “I am never for long in the same place, as you should know! Let him go and return his Pokémon. In return, they will not report you to the human authorities.”

Rob dropped to his knees, looking as if he was about to burst into tears again, the boy’s Pokéballs falling out of his hand and rolling around the floor.

“As for me…” Mew continued with a playful twinkle in its eyes, “catch me if you can.”

Beautiful.




I enjoyed this quite a bit (understatement). Reminds me of the time I first read Quest for the Legends, at least, near the end with Rob, Mark, and Scyther. There's not much I can say that hasn't been repeated, but your entire outlook on Pokemon societies and extensively deep digging into characters' thoughts and emotions provokes something inside of me that attaches me to the characters. I wish we could have learned more about what happened to Shadowdart and Stormblade, but this is Razor's story, and I figured whatever happened to his friends must have stayed in the close, isolated swarm.

I'm glad you pushed the link onto me. P:

 

[nintyweb]

Wow. I just read (I think you said it was) 30,000 words. Well, even more, because I also read replies and "Welcome nintyweb. You last visited: now. Private messages: Unread 50,000, Total 2" at the top of my screen 3 times. But if you don't count the crass I just said, I read 30,000 good words. (Actually, I should say combinations of good words, because words like "the" and "and" would suck on their own.)

Anyway, I've got a few comments.

although I need to study for my psychology test.

Isn't that the kind of thing where its your own opinions on stuff and there are no wrong answers? How can you revise for a "how do you personally feel about mass genicide and salted peanuts" kinda' question? Or do I just have the wrong end of the stick? *world nods*

of the slimy green ooze that was its digestive juices. (Chap. XXXI)

I'm not so sure what would be right here, but "was" doesn't seem to go well with "juices" Hrmm... *ponders*

Incidentally, he will appear in The Quest for the Legends again, in a place where you might be very surprised to find him.

Maybe he's helping capture the legendaries too. Or maybe he is the destroyer!

But maybe those girls he was with went and said it to the boy's family?

Maybe the Growlithe remembered the scent for all these years. Or maybe the kid can come back as an undead being hell-set on revenge (Hehe, hell, undead, geddit ^^)

And yes, my dream job would be to be a writer.

Whee, I'd buy your books. Or wait for someone who has to put it on the internet for me to download in a probably illegal manner. Haven't decided.

Anyway, it was very good. I'm guessing having read the chapter where they talk about their pasts just last night, I read this at the best possible point, although I won't know that without having read the following chapters. Which in turn means that if I had done that I'd have been unable to test my best-possible point. Which leads to a bit of a time paradox... :S

EDIT: I was just thinking how ironic the "nano" in nanowrimo is considering you're talking about 50k+ words...

 

[Dragonfree]

Wha? O-o Master Ball?

Modified Master Ball.

I wish we could have learned more about what happened to Shadowdart and Stormblade, but this is Razor's story, and I figured whatever happened to his friends must have stayed in the close, isolated swarm.

Well, that's coming in the sequel.

Isn't that the kind of thing where its your own opinions on stuff and there are no wrong answers? How can you revise for a "how do you personally feel about mass genicide and salted peanuts" kinda' question? Or do I just have the wrong end of the stick? *world nods*

You're thinking of philosophy. Psychology is not about how you personally feel about things; it's about how others personally feel about things.

I'm not so sure what would be right here, but "was" doesn't seem to go well with "juices" Hrmm... *ponders*

The green ooze was the juices. Yes, it's awkward, but this is the most correct it can get.

Maybe he's helping capture the legendaries too. Or maybe he is the destroyer!

=o

Maybe the Growlithe remembered the scent for all these years.

...hehe, that's actually an interesting idea...

Thanks for reviewing. :3

 

[nintyweb]

You're thinking of philosophy. Psychology is not about how you personally feel about things; it's about how others personally feel about things.

Oh, okay, how do you think I feel about mass genicide and salted peanuts?

=o

Either she's shocked anyone could be that dense, or I got it right. Yay, 50% chance I got it right! ^^

...hehe, that's actually an interesting idea...

And evil killer zombies aren't?

Thanks for reviewing. :3

Thanks for writing. *gives double thumbs up*