Hellfire
OoO
The happiest dayÑthe happiest hour
My sear'd and blighted heart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.
Enter Mt. Ember, a huge, spiraling mountain dwelling in the outmost reach of 
the Sevfii Islands. Small pools of lava bubble on its lower gray crags, while vicious 
plumes of noxious smog rise from small geysers near its tip. Inside Mt. Ember, though, 
is where it is most viciousÑ boiling magma froths and churns in great quantities, 
encircled by grooves and crags in the rock. On a particularly large, low crag there lay a 
monstrous nest, woven and created from the bones of several different types of 
PokŽmon and humans. It would have been a very macabre picture if not for the cheerful 
PokŽmon mingling around it.
All around the nest, fire PokŽmon (and some miscellaneous ground PokŽmon) 
frivolously gossiped and chatted about the recent happenings in the regionsÑ 'Did you 
know that Ash hasn't become the Champion yet?' 'Aunt Betty just moved to Hoenn.' 
'Why, I do believe you're shedding, Cherrie!' 'Well, I know a Rhydon who is in Team 
RocketÑ always had a voracious appetite. Quite saddening, if you ask me.' 'When, oh 
when will the relatives visit, I wonder?' It was a cacophony of growls, squeaks, shrieks, 
roars, grumbles, and yelps, and yet the PokŽmon understood each other perfectly, with 
the acceptation of two Magmar, who never really agreed on anythingÉexcept the 
agreement of never agreeing on anything. Which would therefore destroy their 
agreement. But that, my friends, is another story.
Sitting on one of the larger crags was a monstrous yellow bird, his wings aflame 
with spectacular bursts of red and orange. His beak was long, sharp, and needled, and 
when he spoke, it sounded not like the musical tone one would expect, but his voice was 
rather dark and depressing, gray skies and heavy rain.
This was Moltres.
Moltres was feeling veryÉodd that fine day, although he hadn't the foggiest why. 
In fact, he had been feeling the same sour, doldrums feeling for a week now, and 
nothing abnormal had occurred to bring it about. WellÉthere had been a few 
occurrences, but nothing drastic: Ho-oh had invited him to go burn down some obscure 
tower in Jhoto with him. Ha! Rejection; Ho-oh was as insane as the Legendary birds 
could come, and he certainly would not allow himself to mix up with that sort of 
Legendary. Another thing: Articuno had sent him a messenger Pidgey to report that his 
eggs had hatched. Immediately, Moltres had commanded the Pidgey to send back a 
'heartfelt congratulations' and a reminder that the ice bird still owed him compensation 
for the Seafoam Islands, which Moltres had found for Articuno.
However, he really did loveÑerr, tolerate his relatives. It was just thatÉthat odd 
feeling made him feel so gloomy. As he was sitting at that very moment, though, he felt 
a great desire to end his misery and bring happiness again, which he knew would take 
some workÉand he knew exactly who to askÉ
	"Phineas!' he boomed, splaying his fairly obvious wings out so that all the 
resident PokŽmon could see that he was agitated. The PokŽmon gasped obediently and 
promptly went back to chatting. "Phineas! Come here, you ugly, stupid, worthless piece 
of shiÑ"
	"I'm right here, sir," a rather pudgy Magby said, a stoic expression on his small, 
red, duck-like face as he balanced on a bone neatly.
	"Ñtake mushroom." Moltres blinked, scowling. "Oh, fine. Phineas, my dear! I 
need you to do something for old Uncle Moltres."
	"I'm not related to you," Phineas said scathingly. "Besides, you ate my uncle."
	There was an awkward silence that could only be the product of a terrible faux 
pas. The Legendary raised a non-existent eyebrow at him. "I did?" he asked, appalled.
	"Yes; while you were circling over Cinnabar. But you didn't know it was my 
uncle."
	"Oh," Moltres sighed, visibly relieved. For a moment, he thought he had fallen 
out of favor with little Phineas. "Well, my deep, deep apologies. But more important 
matters exist, sadly! How cruel the world is! Anyway, my dear, I've been feeling quite 
down recently."
	"That makes two of us," the Magby mumbled under his breath.
	"What did you say? Oh, it doesn't matter. Anyhoo, I'm feeling quite down. I'm 
not sure how, exactly, I've never felt this way before. It's quite unnerving." He shivered 
just thinking about it, although the temperature of the area was well over the boiling 
point. "IÉfeel as though I'm nothing, while at the same time I feel as though my great 
power is passing me by. The world seems so bleakÉI feel as though I don't belong."
	Perhaps it's a mid-life crisis," Phineas mused, "although you have another good 
five hundred years."
	"Thank you." Moltres ruffled his feather in pride, smiling (despite it being very 
hard for birds to smile). "I always look the youngest compared to my relatives. Now, 
Phineas, what I'm asking you to do is find something who could diagnose and solve this 
annoying problem." Just speaking about it caused him to fly into a small fit. "They could 
be anyone in Kanto, Jhoto, Hoenn, or OrreÑjust someone who can cure me, blast it!"
	Phineas neatly avoided Moltres' huge wings as the bird beat them in agitation, 
screeching furiously. "Err, sir, I may know what your problem is, but all I ask is that you 
tell me a few more symptoms," he yelled over the noise, itching the black ring around 
his neck nervously.
	"Oh, really?" The avian brightened. "I always know I can count on you, dear 
Phineas. WellÉhmmÉ" he paused, without words to describe the fearsome feeling. "I 
feelÉI feel as thoughÉmy heart has a deep, dark emptiness that penetrates every miserable 
atom and fiber of my very wretched being, which shall soon scream and writhe in the bowels of 
the most hateful place in all of Kanto!" And he uttered this last phrase in a terrifying and 
booming voice, raspy and chilledÑeven some of the ghosts floating in a near memoriam 
tower shivered greatly. All the PokŽmon turned to Moltres and he blushed red, 
embarrassed, and put his two wings to his beak. "Dear Mew!" he said in his normal 
voice, eyes widening in fear at the astounded Magby. "I told you something was wrong, 
damnit!"
	"Yes, it does sound very grave." Phineas shook his head sadly, wringing his two 
paws. "I don't know how to say this, sir, but I do understand your problem."
	"You do?" Moltres gasped in relief. "Do tell!"
	Most of the PokŽmon leaned in to the Legendary bird slightly, eager to hear the 
taboo disease. Phineas's expression darkened slightly as he said in a chilling whisper, 
"I'm sorry, sir, but you have a fatal case ofÉangst."
	"ARGH!" a Rhydon screamed in a soprano voice and fainted from the very word, 
crushing a poor Torchic behind him.
	"Please, Phineas!" an angry mother Typhlosion gasped, holding her small, 
quavering Cyndaquils close to her. "There are children here!"
	"My apologies, m'am," the Magby said humbly, bowing his head. "But it must 
be said."
	"Angst?" asked Moltres skeptically, snorting with laughter. A Slugma began 
sobbing uncontrollably. "What's so wrong with angst?" The PokŽmon flinched.
	"I wouldn't say that anymore, sir," Phineas said gingerly, placing a paw on 
Moltres' wing. It's one of the Forbidden Words of PokŽmon, along with fluff, lemon, 
incest, mpreg, torture, Mary Sue, Gary Stu, and clichŽ, to name just some. They're highly 
taboo."
	From the sheer mass of the words, several PokŽmon contemplated suicide. Most 
avian fire-types flew away in anger, while most other PokŽmon began to fashion 
earplugs for themselves. Never before had such oaths been utteredÉand in the presence 
of a Legendary, no less!
	"My, my, now that I think about it, this angstÑ" a Ponyta whinnied nervously. 
"Ñdoes seemÉ" Moltres paused, feeling a strange tone creeping into his voice. 
"Horrible. So horrible that my dark, tormented blood will curdle under it's sheer weight. And I 
will never live again! All my life is meanness. MEANINGLESS, I TELL YOU! What am I 
butÉNOTHING! YES, NOTHING! WAHAHA! I'M FEELING DOWNTRODDEN TODAY, 
HEEHEE! Oh, not again!" Tears appeared in his small eyes, very rare for him. "This can't 
happen to me! I'll be ruined! Phineas, dear Phineas, is there anything I or you can do to 
help me?"
	The Magby sat in a deep reverie of thought, branching out all of the possible 
options. "Well, I suppose you could ask the Most AngstÑ" PokŽmon flinched. "Ñ
Ridden PokŽmon of them allÉhe is widely renown in all of the regions as not only the 
MostÉerr, Ridden, but as the best PokŽmon to inquire on philosophy. He isÉMewtwo!"
	"Mewtwo?" a Charmeleon screamed, swooning massively. "He's soooooo hot!"
	Moltres ignored the love-enveloped dragon. "Who's this Mewtwo you speak of? 
He soundsÉvery odd."
	"You don't know about him?" Phineas frowned. "FiguresÉhmm! He's a 
genetically mutated cat PokŽmon who was created by Team Rocket. He escaped and 
destroyed one of their little buildings after Giovanni was training him and Mewtwo 
became livid."
	"Huh. Do you know where he lives so that you can find him?" Moltres smiled 
slyly.
	Phineas was more than gloomy to answer. "Oh, I believe he lives in Cerulean 
Cave, andÑwait! So I can find him? ButÉbutÉyou're the one who can fly!"
	"Oh. You're right." The bird grinned sheepishly, standing up and stretching his 
wings. "Well, I suppose I should fly to Cerulean. Anyone care to come with me?"
	"ME! ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME!" the Charmeleon 
shrieked voraciously, foaming a bit at the mouth. "His voice is sooooooo sexy! I want to 
make him my LOVER!"
	"Mommy, what's a lover?" a baby Cyndaquil asked his mother. When she didn't 
respond, the small fire-type stumbled over to another Typhlosion. "Daddy, what's aÑ"
	"Absolutely not!" crowed Moltres at the Charmeleon, shooing her away. "I can't 
have rabid fangirls scaring Mewtwo off!"
	"Don't say that word!" Phineas howled madly, shaking his paws at the sky in 
utter desperation. "It's one of the Forbidden Words, you great oaf!"
	However, the entire PokŽmon group was already in a frenzy, shouting, clawing, 
vomiting, and sobbing. Moltres paid no mind to it, though, and only concentrated on 
what Phineas had just called him. "You dare call me an oaf?" the avian thundered, rising 
above the nest as he flapped his huge wings. "You dare call me an oaf?"
	Two Blaziken watched the scene with fascination. "DaaaaammmmmnnÉ" they 
said simultaneously.
	Phineas frowned slightly, in no mood to grovel. His life was already miserable 
andÉangst ridden enough. "Yes. I dare to call you one."
	Moltres was poised in an attack position, beak lowered, every quark in his being 
fueled by his terrible egoÉwhen another attack hit. The bird shook spasmodically 
before sputtering and choking, finally gasping, "The world is nothing but a vast, churning 
road of hate and blood, only leading to death, which does not bring salvationÉbut torture! Yes, 
torture! My life is meaningless! What is life? WHAT IS LIFE, I ASK? Is life a simple puzzle 
missing one piece, only meant to be almost completedÉand then thrown away? What isÉ" his 
voice drifted away as he flew from the great volcano and into the sky, still carrying on 
about the pointlessness of life and himself. And, yes, he did indeed continue with the 
horrid metaphors.
	There was silence for a while before someone said, "You know, Mewtwo doesn't 
live in Cerulean Cave anymore. He lives in a giant castle on the Kanto Sea."
	An Infernape cleared her throat.
Phineas wheeled around to the voice, expression crazed. "WHAT?" he shrieked.
	"Oh, yeah. They closed off Cerulean Cave. No one lives there."
	The Magby closed his eyes for a moment, twitching, and breathed deeply. He 
then sighed, "Please, I need someone who I can dictate my will to."
	A very awkward moment prevailed, in which the only sound was the 
Charmeleon, who was babbling and gesturing ridiculously (and almost in a sexual 
sense, mind you). Several PokŽmon looked at each other, confused, wondering if the 
strange Magby was joking or not. Finally, Phineas looked up and glared at the 
Charmeleon. "What on Kanto are you doing?"
	The dragon paused for a moment, staring at him. "I'm speaking in tongues to 
summon Mewtwo, of course," she replied simply, going back to her ritual.
	"Speaking in tongues," the Magby repeated quietly. This was a statement. " 
Speaking in tonguesÉhas everyone here gone completely MAD?"
	And I ask the same thing, another voice said. Everyone looked around until their 
eyes rested on another crag, where a light purple, bipedal, cat-like PokŽmon stood. He 
looked about impatiently, grumbling telepathically, Did anyone summon me here? You 
interrupted me at a rather crucial time. I was searching for the meaning of my lifeÉas usual.
	"MEWTWO!" the Charmeleon fangirl screamed, flailing her arms wildly as she 
ran across the crag to Mewtwo. "FATHER MY BABIES!" Without noticing the large 
space between her and the lithe cat PokŽmon, she jumped from the crag, tumbled into 
the lava, and promptly died. Everyone was relieved.
	Mewtwo furrowed his brow, levitating over to the crag where most of the 
PokŽmon stood. Well, that was strange. Now, I assume she was the one who summoned me?
	Most nodded.
	Bloody fangirl, Mewtwo muttered under his breath. In that case, I shall be leavingÉ
	"No, wait!" Phineas cried, running up in front of Mewtwo. He had to admit; he 
was in awe of the feline's utter melancholy. "Stop, I beg of you! I have quite an 
important question. You see, Moltres, the resident Legendary bird, has had a bad case of 
angst, and asked me to find a cure. You being the Most Angst Ridden of all, I humbly 
implore youÉwhat is the cure for angst?"
	Most fainted.
	Mewtwo raised his eyebrows. The cure for angst? Why, angst is a very deep and 
complex subject. Even I cannot fully describe its wrath and power. All I can offer to Moltres is 
that he should write a one-shot about his deep and powerful angst.
	The rest fainted.
	"Excuse me?" the Magby asked, nudging an unconscious Torchic away with his 
hind paw. "A one-shot?"
	Yes, a one-shot on Fanfiction. Angst one-shots are quite popular, especially when they're 
about prominent people or PokŽmon in the regions. Writing an angst one-shot will purge Moltres 
of his angsty feelings, most certainly.
	By the time the 'angsts' had been uttered, the PokŽmon that had fainted had 
gone into minor comas, while the baby Cyndaquil was still hobbling around, asking 
what a lover was. Needless to say, no one answered him.
	"Really?" Phineas asked in joy, a slow smile creeping across his face. "That's it?"
	Yes. Then Mewtwo added, Oh, and he may want to not only write an angst one-shot, 
but write dark and complex poetry as well. I suggest first reading Edgar Allan Pika if he'd like 
something to start with.
	"Edgar Allan Pika. Ah. The greatest macabre poet ever to grace Kanto. Certainly. 
Thank you dearly for your help."
	Mewtwo shook his head. Just don't bother me again. I hate being aroundÉnon-
intellectuals. With that, he teleported away, and Phineas felt ultimately saved. Now, to 
wait for Moltres and tell him the good newsÉ
OoO
	"PHINEAS!"
	"Oh, wonderful," the Magby mumbled, lounging near an unconscious Rhyhorn 
and Arcanine. He yawned and lazily looked up at the opening in the volcano, where the 
silhouette of Moltres was spiraling downwards. As Moltres' features began clearer and 
clearer, Phineas yawned again and hummed a little song to himself. After Moltres 
calmed down a bit, he wouldn't have to hideÑand then he could tell him the good 
news.
	"PHINEAS!" the bird roared again, dropping into his nest with such force that 
some bones flew out from it and clattered onto the ground. "MewtwoÉwasn'tÉthere," he 
growled, craning his neck down to find the Magby, who was cleverly hidden behind the 
bulk of the large Rhyhorn. "My dark heart weeps for you and I, because my soul is slowly 
becoming corrupted by a force so deadly that all the corpses in the land shutter to think of what 
power it hasÉWHAT IS THE MEANING OF MY LIFE?" He paused, beak trembling, 
before wailing pathetically, "Oh, Phineas dear, make it stop! I can't stand it!" He then 
began weeping madly, throwing his long neck back with emotion. "I promise not to be 
mad at you!"
	"Oh, very well. Don't get so worked up about it." The Magby emerged from his 
hiding spot, smirking victoriously, and walked though the fainted PokŽmon so that he 
was on the edge of the crag, closest to Moltres. "Mewtwo, in fact, came here and told me 
that the answer to curing angst isÉ" he grinned.
	"Yes?" the bird drawled, leaning forward.
	"Writing an angst one-shot for Fanfiction."
	"No!" Moltres gasped horrifically. "That'sÉwhy, that's soÉargh!"
	"Oh, and it would help to write angsty poetry," Phineas added smugly. He then 
noticed the PokŽmon writhing in pain, and quickly decided to stop saying 'angst'. 
"These are the only known cures. I'm terribly, terribly sorry, MoltresÉdear."
	"Oh, thank you!" the bird sobbed, pulling the small Magby into a hug. "You're the 
only friend I have, Phineas dear, and the best! I really didn't mean to eat your uncle, 
really!"
	"Yes, yes, I know. All is forgiven, and the five years I spent in torturous therapy 
are in the past. NowÉplease stop hugging me." Moltres put him back on the crag. 
"Good. Now, do you have any ideas for your Fanfiction one-shot?"
	"HmmÉ" the bird furrowed his brow in thought. "I could start out, 'I sit on my 
perch and stare out into the vast, complex world, thinking, 'do I have a purpose in life?'."
	"Oh, Bra-vo. Continue, continue."
	"Yes." He took a deep breath, flexing his mighty, burning wings. "Why, I feel 
better already! The great Moltres cannot be defeated that easily! Ha!"
	Phineas smiled thinly. "Of course. Not even angst will stop you."
	Everyone screamed.