Behind the Spacro, Meaning of War

Note from the author. To understand this story, you’d best read Better & Tougher, the Real Adventures, located here here , and note that due to its sheer size, its likely not going to be moving anywhere else for a while. Best you read that so you have a clue what’s going on here.

Chapter 1: Destined for Death

War, so they say, is often an assured path to prove that one truly is grown from a boy to a man. He who goes to the front lines of combat to wage war qualifies, and if he returns alive, he is no longer a weak boy. He is a powerful man, glorified with honor and pride, perhaps knowing he did his country well, or proving that he has the testicular fortitude that outranks others; maybe it’s the courage that it has brought him to overcome himself. The reasons are many, and their stories are often more fabricated than the government and military generals who maintain this very industry. Industry, for it is a supply and demand game where man and machine are made, refined, refurbished, brainwashed then sent to the market to fight his foe. Industry because this runs hand-in-hand with the business world, as economy goes up, and cash flows like rivers of gold, and dollar signs become stuck in your eyes like a blinding force. After all of that, who could say no?

They say that war breeds heroes, heroes who may have been criminals, everyday simpletons, or even the biggest degenerates of society. Their heroic status is not always held for the same reasons, but their attainment method is always the same: slaughter. You could have the greatest of muscle to fight a Machamp, a Tyranitar both at the same time, with your bare hands, using sissy slaps, but an anorexic in a straight jacket (well, maybe not, since they’ll need their hands), could slaughter him in war, all because of technologies weapon of pure victory decision: the gun.

Crime syndicates become the heroes of their country, doing what they do best. They kill, they steal, they rape, they torture, pillage, terrorize, and more. Truly this is NOT heroic behavior, and is punishable by law, but there is little more to their reason of innocence in the eye of the law than that it is wartime, and as long as it is the enemy that they unleash their wrath upon, they may live undisturbed and in luxury.

It is as though one does not even need to work for their greatness, for it is easier to destroy than it is to build something great. Keremus City was not built in a day, but it fell in less than half of one when the explosives were employed. Not a soldier was even needed! We were there to make it look like a most gruesome victory, and all we had to do was lounge around and wait until the smoke cleared. Only a few of the city’s residents survived the encounter. It wouldn’t even be the last such attempt at looking good in the public eye.

Regardless, I am probably getting ahead of myself now aren’t I. Shall I start over?

My name is Noldin Thames Spacro, and I have been a pawn in one of the biggest wars to ever hit this time period, as I fought for the country of Kanto. I perhaps will never swear fealty to any country again. To tell you about who and what I’m like would be telling of the lie of the past me I had to live as. In truth, I wish I could forget it all, the haunting memories, as I still remember the stench of the dead at the Parnussian Gulf, still to this day. Men, pokemon, all were throwing their lives away for perhaps the name of a country that won’t matter where they’re going. What does one’s own glory matter when they’re dead? Even those who wished not to die were subjected to a merciless, brutal death. Many tempted to flee and beg for their lives, for is it that sacred be life above all else, conquering all but love? Actually, no! Truth be known, love goes hand in hand with war, transforming from romantic stories to tales of carnal lust and need. So basic and feral are we in the battlefield, there is little to do but slaughter. I wish my son never has to know about any of this. He does not deserve the despair and agony of killing. Nobody does.

I wasn’t always as smart as I am now. I too had been a victim of many of these feelings that war breeds in all species. I still am, for though I know it is wrong to promote the slaughter, the return to a humble life doesn’t compare to the jolts of thrill, adventure, and even, frighteningly, power! Even when war ends and its time for peace, it never endures. One land is always going to get a raw deal, and as stories and history shifts with each telling to favor ones land, defeat is eradicated from history books of that country, and the public brainwash begins. It would be that I would have a long service to the wars to come. There’d be wounds to fix, and some unfixable, and memories more painful than that felt when I realize I’ve been unconscious in an infirmary bed.

Pokemon too were as vicious, if not more so than the humans they battled alongside or against. Some brought up for battle from the day they are born. I remember seeing a military trained Machamp once. It was armed with powerful gunnery in each of its 4 muscular, rock solid hands, and its legs adorned in camouflage army pants. As funny as it sounded, this creature seemed to have virtually no conscious. It’d kill without a hesitation. If commanded to slaughter, it would. Its instinctive creature nature was nonexistent, and its face was always drawn into the most horrifically vicious snarl I ever saw on a pokemon. I don’t even recall times when it didn’t even have one gun on hand. With double the grasp due to double the arms, it was able to eat and fight at the same time. If disturbed while immersed with savoring the food on its platter, it would focus a gun in its target’s direction as a threat. It never even needed to know which direction its disturbance came from.

Again, my foolishness is inexcusable, and I know that I can never atone for the many atrocities committed by my country, let alone my own shameful behavior. All I can do, as I shudder at the non physical pain as I recall events gone by. I hope that my tale can, and will impact your lives. Pray not to whatever deity you believe in, (for the manipulation of the honor of the great one in the sky plays a most vital role in the ideals of the many). Still, I wish well for any wise, and brave enough to hear my tale, that you do not have to partake in a draft for war. For like many a drug, it is addictive! My one true wish is for a world where the pain of slaughter does not exist.

I only hope this is not a hopeless cause...