4

Reverberberations/Aftershock

Samurai returned his Butterfree as the sleep powder quickly spread around the air outside his mask. Samurai looked at the glistening powder now surrounding him. What an idea, Samurai thought, wonder how I thought of it.

"It's my cue to leave," Samurai muttered to himself, edging to the floor and cramming himself into the vents after he holstered his weapon.

***

Right outside the base, a blizzard blew, its snow with the unseen ability to sting. It was nobody's friend, but it was all around one heavily armed League officer, surrounding him, engulfing him (of course, it didn't do anything; after all, he wore a helmet). Basically nothing had happened to him since he recently went outside; it was as if nothing had happened at all, through his eyes at that moment. This officer was the High-Ensign Damien Turner.

He had left the community base B8 to stand guard outside, holding position in front of the hole that they had blown through, just to be a "nice sentry". Sighing, Damien watched the now-distinguishing fire in the entrance caused by the bomb. He was now in charge of this assault and yet he had been chosen by the troops to get out of the main fray to wait for his troops to emerge or something that would... Cause him to have to be a "nice sentry". Out of curiosity, Damien decided to turn his radio on to public transmission.

((|\/\/~Anything new?\/\/|)) Damien had asked his troops, expecting an answer.

There was none.

League Main Base-about 8:30

The place was very quiet... As always for League Shock Troop Cdr. Koga. There was some sort of eerie silence that came with working in the League Main Base. Many people didn't notice it, but he did; Koga had once lived in the Fuchsia Gym where there were the noises of many Pidgey, Pidgeotto, Fearow and the Pokémon that his apprentice/s would fight. Those days were gone to Koga now, so he was left sitting in a desk with a silence all around him, almost making him insane.

Cdr. Koga sat at his side of the table with a look of surprise as he looked at the video log of the floating camera near where the Shock Troopers were. Someone else was at his desk, a certain Shock Lt. John-Pierre, an officer with a renowned record. Of all the lower-ranked officers, John-Pierre was the one that Koga had trusted most.

"You see," Lt. John-Pierre corrected, "I was right. Something's up."

Koga was speechless; he said nothing. This was the second time that there was suspicious activity near there, out there. What Koga had just seen was a shock trooper walking out on his own clearly outside orders, but the shape of his heat signature was alien to any of the shapes of the troopers.

Koga paused the video and squinted at the figure, whose shape looked quite familiar.

"Is this... Blaine?" Koga asked.

John-Pierre looked at the figure in a pause, squinting.

"Holy shit," John-Pierre muttered, frozen stiff. Everyone could identify his shape; it was printed on "wanted" posters all over the place.

Koga got up and ran out of the room to tell his commanding officer what it was he found. So this is Blaine, Koga thought. The genocidal traitor? Could it really be Blaine?

Indigo plateau-in the meantime

Damien Turner began to panic. He had sent his message to his troops about 4 minutes ago, and still there was no response except for the red flame glistening in front of him and diminishing evermore. Damien turned his radio off. I better tell the boss, Damien mused, running out because of both the situation-and fear.

***

Samurai almost dropped his gun as soon as he pulled it out, finally seeing what had happened to the dining hall that he had ate in only 30 minutes earlier. There were piles of dead strewn all over the [room]. Some of the [people] had been incinerated, some shot to bits and pieces and pulps. One head lay on the floor that he could recognise as Misty's, littered with bullets and slowly collapsing in half. James didn't look like he died any better either, his chest torn open by bullets that were now lying astray on the floor. Other than that, the dead seemed unrecognisable, all of them piled one on top of the other, either staring into nothing or without a head to stare with.

A fire glistened where a bomb clearly had exploded and one dead shock trooper was seen lying on the ground. It looked creepy as all that was left was the once-shiny metal contained in its riot gear as the flames had already incinerated the corpse, making it look like a sort of exoskeleton. Carefully walking and desperately trying not to look at the dead, Samurai found a path going past the flames and walked through it, the heat barely noticeable (surprisingly enough) as it was beginning to be canceled out by the chill of the snowstorm outside. Oh shit, Samurai mused, a snowstorm. I'll need some more clothes.

Samurai walked back to where the death was, the smell of it not able to reach his nostrils because of his mask (fortunately). The shock troopers must be asleep, Samurai thought. I'll have to go to where they are, just to look for one and take that winter gear off. Samurai shrugged and walked out of the dining hall.

Same place-about 8:40

High Ensign Damien Turner walked up the path leading up the steep slope of the Indigo plateau with apparent impatience to return to his base, aiming his weapon in front of him and wondering about just what had happened to his troops on the assault. I'm not going in there, Damien persisted, I don't think my radio just suddenly decided to break. The snow hit against his helmet, distracting Damien from what was in front of him as he walked up the Indigo plateau. Suddenly-

RATATATATATAT

Damien Turner skidded on the hard snow, the bullets narrowly missing him. He could barely make out the people firing at him as being League shock troopers. Damien felt half-scared, half-angered.

((|\/\/~You... Pigfucking... WHY DID YOU SHOOT AT ME?!\/\/|)) High Ensign Turner yelled, raising his head to them as he shook a fist at where he could see them.

((|\/\/~It is time for you to pay for your crimes, Blaine\/\/|)) one of the troopers replied.

What the fuck is this, Ensign Turner thought, some sort of joke?!

((|\/\/~I'm High Ensign Damien Turner, and to prove it to you I can take off my helmet!\/\/|))

After a brief pause that seemed like a lifetime, the Troopers walked toward Damien, guns at the ready. There were 4 of them, helmets gleaming and making them all look rather spooky to Damien. 3 of them were junior officers and the one in front of them all was a Lieutenant, looking a lot less edgier with his weapon because he most likely killed a lot more people than the junior officers had. They surrounded him, the 3 officers taking spaces right behind him and to his left and right, whereas the Lieutenant stood right in front of Ensign Turner.

((|\/\/~So then, whoever you are, take off your helmet or we'll kill you\/\/|)) the Lieutenant ordered, seeing Damien's High Ensign insignia.

Damien holstered his machine-gun and his two hands reached to take off his helmet. Slowly, Ensign Turner's head was exposed to the cold air, the helmet removed. Damien held his helmet in his armpit. The troopers backed off and grouped together until they were not surrounding Damien but instead in front of him, a sign of belief. Damien finally put his helmet back on, keeping his head away from the cold.

((|\/\/~Okay, High Ensign Turner, I'll take your word for it. This is Lt. John-Pierre here, do you want to come back to base so we can ask you some questions?\/\/|))

((|\/\/~...Alright.\/\/|))

***

Samurai, now in full shock trooper winter gear, walked out of the base, rubbing his hands together as he made his way past the fire and into the snowstorm.

The snow flew in such a way that it didn't seem like the wind was blowing it in any particular direction.

"Well, well," Samurai thought out loud to himself, the radio on his "suit" off, "looks like I'm cooking with gas."

Samurai shrugged at his own thought, holstered his new machine-gun and walked through the snowstorm to where he thought the ruins of Viridian city were. Samurai knew that there was a Community base there, or at least Samurai figured as he was removing his helmet to finally take off his gas mask.

League Main Base-about 10:20

They were in one of the top floors of the Main Base, standing in a hallway outside where one man named Damien Turner had been asked some questions. They came to a simple conclusion: it had happened, simple as that. Hairnes was dead. Lily was dead. And it may very well be, according to the answers that Damien gave John-Pierre, that he was the only one out alive.

But, Damien learned, he was not the only one. 2 people in Shock Trooper clothing had left the premises already. Their heat signature-shapes were alien to those of the Troopers that initially went in, so there was the threat of the community... And Blaine. Their initial target. The "genocidal maniac" that the League had learned to hate and "will never forget".

"Well, looks like you can return to your duties now, Ensign Damien Turner. But, there's one thing that's hard to believe..."

"Yes?" Damien Turner suddenly felt a pang of nervousness all over again as he swallowed hard to accept what he would say against him...

"...Lily had her riot gear off? And one bullet to the head?!"

"...Yes, one... Large... Pistol... Bullet hole."

"...Okay. If you're right, the community is a lot smarter than we think."

John-Pierre took some notes down on a notepad for a second before putting it back into his pocket. "That's all we need to know."

Community post B8 under Indigo Plateau-about 10:30

The gray walls didn't shiver. The blue powder was constantly recycled with the air once it reached the main vent fan again and again, and the only noise that was in any way apparent in the main areas of the building were the snores of some people, muffled to slight murmurs or virtually no sound by their shock trooper helmets. The only thing conscious of its task right there and then was the bomb attached to the computer, ticking down its clock. You could hear the bomb ticking, literally, the seconds going down to the time that it would stop ticking and... Tick, tick. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick...

And that was when the bomb stopped ticking.

***

As a fireball devoured community base B8, there was still one oversight in planting the explosive. It was an elusive-to-detect problem, something that would be a "groaner" to anyone who realised what would happen, but deadly and quite "major". When the heavy explosive blew, so did part of the Indigo Plateau. The plateau shook from the force of the explosion, causing several heavy avalanches which fell all the way down the steep slope to the ground below with resounding dull 'thud's as the snow and ice hit the ground.

As the land was devastated by the avalanches and the destructive force of the bomb, the Indigo Plateau was trembling. The plateau had lost too much unsupported land below it to not be brought down by a simple force- name of gravity.

The base sat on top of the plateau. As the plateau sank and began to crumble apart, the League Main Base's inhabitants suddenly noticed the tremors and the sudden occurrence that meant that it most likely won't stay at the top of the plateau for much longer. If you were watching the building from the air 2hm away from it, you could almost hear the screams, shouts, yells and "what the-"s as the building shook under the plateau, quivering and quaking under the stress.

Men and women were either panicking, incorrectly acting as if it was an earthquake or running to the nearest escape shuttle, trying to at least get out with their lives. Among them there were several officers, grouping around Lt. Damien Turner as they celebrated his sudden promotion. However, at that moment the officer's identities didn't matter; all that mattered, at least to them, was that they would escape as something was happening and they didn't like it, whatever it was.

The P.A spluttered into action as someone yelled through it, "THIS IS NOT A DRILL... WELL, THAT'S SURE OBVIOUS... AND THIS IS NOT AN EARTHQUAKE. I HOPE EVERYONE KNOWS WHAT TO DO HERE- GET OUT, IT'S YOUR COMFORT OR YOUR LIF-" It suddenly cut off, much to Lt. Turner's relief as all it did was simply make everyone panic, which was not an option. At least, not an option for those who valued their lives.

In an orderly fashion (if you could call it that), Lt. Turner and the other officers with him quickly headed for the escape pods. When they reached the pod bay, they reached what is usually called "pandemonium". There were hundreds of panicking, noisy people (most of them civilians) in a large and scattered cluster, scarpering to reach one shuttle pod when there really was space for everyone left on the pods; the halls were all that caused the crowding in the first place.

Cdr. Koga, one of the officers that was originally meant to be with Lt. Turner, found himself literally pushing his way through to an escape pod, ahead of any and every one of the other officers with Lt. Turner that had arrived just then.

That was when something sudden happened.

A few cracking noises were heard in the cement that only made the people shuffle more to reach a shuttle, not realising the danger that was right... Above... Everyone in the... Vicinity.

The real danger started when the ceiling burst into a large hole. People suddenly stopped shouting and started screaming as they were impaled by chunks of composed rock that was flying at them from above. Blood hit Koga's face as someone he didn't know died right beside him, helpless to a shattered piece of concrete impaled through his chest. Many other people died at the same time, at the same place, in the same way.

SNAP

The hole in the ceiling became a lot larger a few seconds after the loud, gut wrenching noise was heard, once again, right above where everyone was. Some of the more attentive people began to get hysterical. Something was about to happen-

Lt. Turner seen it all happen- or at least as much as everyone else in the cluster, in the crowd of people initially searching for an escape pod. Dirt/dust surrounded everyone, blocking their vision to an extent as Lt. Turner looked at the rubble in front of him: a sharp, dangerous array of concrete shards and a large piece of a pipe. Legs, heads and arms connected to lifeless bodies could be seen sticking out from under the wreckage, such as Koga's head, staring into nothing.

When the lights went out, again something registered in people's minds: leave... Or die. This was made evermore difficult as now only a few pods were accessible. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), there were only about a couple dozen people left on that floor to occupy them. They all quickly rushed to the safety of the shuttles, trying not to ignore, but still ignoring, their fallen (and rather dead) comrades.

In the last pod to leave, seven people were aboard, each one varying significantly from the other. One of these people was Cdr. Tracey Sketcher, who was at that moment sweating in his armor plating made up of hard, bullet-proof plastic with a sort of blue sheen. Staring at his Teflon-coated retracting wrist blades, he looked at someone right outside the pod's door as it closed. He was the only one left, a bald man with a civilian's shirt. He didn't look too happy either, banging against the window of the entrance, screaming something that couldn't be heard past the door. The man was helpless, with tears showing in his eyes as a sign of desperation. The doors had been pressurized and locked; Tracey felt sorry for the doomed man but he couldn't do anything about it now. Tracey looked away, for even through his entire life after the time he quit pokémon watching to enlist in the League military had taught him to be insensitive during a time when lives are at risk, he still couldn't see a man cry.

The pod lifted off within a few seconds, the man pleading, begging, praying for some sort of help which he would never get as they drifted away from him on the shuttle, trying not to pay attention to a man that would plead to his death as the man quickly faded away into the distance. After a few silent seconds, someone stepped up and walked to the cockpit. Tracey watched him settling down at the controls through his helmet, pressing a single button before grasping the manual controls.

It was a short moment later before everyone looked back at the Main Base again with shock in their eyes. The Indigo Plateau was falling apart, and most of all, nobody knew why or how. Several other escape pods could be seen leaving the area in different direction for a couple of seconds before they faded into the horizon.

Finally, everyone on board the pod seen what happened to their home and defense. They top part which they had left had broken off the rest of the building to skid off the plateau cliffs to the unwelcoming ground below. The lower part of the building lay dormant for a few seconds, doing absolutely nothing before being swallowed up by a bubble within itself. The bubble expanded itself until it covered the building, right before turning white and blowing itself up into a mushroom cloud. In reaction to the blast, the plateau cracked to pieces and began sinking to the ground...

Tracey took off his helmet and his visor to have a better look at the explosion that was once where he had lived and served in. There were only two words that Tracey could say: "holy shit."

[Route 23]-about 10:30

Blaine strutted across the ever-thinning snow that covered what was once Route 23 which connected to the former Victory Road which connected to the former Pokémon League Village. Blaine was thinking about what he was going to do with his life now that he escaped with an automatic weapon, Ash's last Pokémon and a new Abra for him to keep. Maybe I could lead a solitary life, Blaine thought optimistically. At that point, Blaine decided to stop for a few seconds and look around him. The sky was a dim gray, the snow glaringly bright as it reflected the light of the sun and the Indigo Plateau-

BANG

Blaine stopped looking around him to stare at where the noise came from to notice a great white light in the distance the shape of a mushroom raise high up into the air. It led to one question...

"Hey," Blaine thought out loud, "where'd the Indigo Plateau go?"

Psywave Networking-about 12:05

Earth orbital bearing 1 055 456 P-Y 1027/1425 aprxdt: 500 030/1 000 000...
••••••••••••
Subjects...
1. Insurrection red-type ERROR
2. Other side-type Mew
—————————————
Insurrection red: Any more news from NOT about the eye?
««««««§»»»»»»
Other side: No. I was meant to tell you... He's gone. We can't find him on the psywave frequencies.
««««««§»»»»»»
Insurrection red: What?!
««««««§»»»»»»
Other side: It's true. Ask anyone else who knows him and they'll tell you he's missing.
««««««§»»»»»»
Insurrection red: Could he have died? Could he have left the Insurrection and decide to be a Human-Pokémon TRAITOR?!
««««««§»»»»»»
Other side: Perhaps. Our troops are searching for him now, but none of us have any clue as to what happened to him, or otherwise, where he went or had gone to.
««««««§»»»»»»
Insurrection red: That's it, I'm out! I've got to register this for a moment...
««««««§»»»»»»
No more talkers in psywave-wave dissipated.
—————————————

[Route 1]-about 14:00

They had landed. Cdr. Tracey Sketcher looked down at the ground with a sense of relief, while others were kissing it. They all felt fortunate- they all knew that they were fortunate- to get out of the Main Base without the handicap of winding up dead. By 13:30 they had all met the ground with a crash landing (to state an oxymoron, as in truth shuttle pods can't land 'properly').

Within 30 minutes the people were beginning to calm down. A couple of women, a few men. Four of them were civilians, the other two were military personnel that Tracey recognised as Lieutenants Turner and John-Pierre. There were a couple that he knew, they were the Oaks: the 28 year-old Gary Oak and the ~88/58 year-old Dr. Oak, the infamous anti-aging hormone "success". Although they were civilians, Gary and Dr. Oak had their share of kills (many civilians had, in this life anyway) and they knew a lot about the military, almost more than Tracey himself did. However, there were experiences that the military would generally go through that the civilians simply didn't, even the Oaks.

Seeing that he was of the highest rank of anyone beside the fallen pod, what could Tracey do but step up to that? All eyes were on him. It was if they could see through Tracey's thick helmet that he had something to say.

Tracey conveniently removed the helmet from his head to speak. People seemed to be mildly intimidated by the sight of Tracey; he had almost impenetrable plating completely covering his skin which meant that bullets could hardly get past it. Tracey didn't like to feel powerful, but he was generally used to it. Taking off his visor, Tracey opened his mouth, but no words came out; he was too distracted by everyone else, so he tried it again. Clearing his throat, Tracey said:

"Well, I'm afraid that since I'm the only military commander here I have control over you... In this situation, I suggest that we... Head for the nearest League base. If I'm right, it's 2 kilometers thataway," Tracey pointed out, not prepared to say anything else. (Tracey was an elite member of staff, not a psychologist so he couldn't think up the best thing to say to them, could he?)

Although the other people certainly didn't think that Tracey sounded like he knew what he was doing, they couldn't object to his orders. All of the civilians formally stood up and faced the direction that Tracey was pointing at. This was followed by a march to where Tracey was pointing.

Suddenly, Tracey flinched a little. A thought came over him when he realised how close he was to the ruins of Viridian City. Although the league was most likely more powerful than the community, Tracey knew that they were in need of resources, and the wreckage might be a good place to find some. Finding resources was always rewarded handsomely. He knew that communicating with anybody or anything, even a League base, didn't require seven people. It required one, or in this case possibly two people, preferably trustworthy military staff. So that was exactly, precisely what was needed, in Tracey's view. Two Soldiers. Two.

"Wait a sec- I mean halt." Everyone in front of him suddenly stopped, before all in the line of civilians turned around a full 180°, perfectly accomplished and perfectly in unison.

Tracey blushed; he couldn't help it. "Just be more casual, okay? Not even the real League military acts like that. Just don't be the Hunchback of Notre Dame and I won't care."

The civilians standing in front of Tracey laughed nervously in response to his comments for a few seconds before drowning it out abruptly and trying, almost "pretending" to look and act casual. It was all very obvious to Tracey; the civilians had obviously met a very strict League officer. The officers smirked at the response. After a few long seconds of silence, Tracey decided to speak.

"...On second thought I... Think that only two of you should go, since only one or two people are needed to tell them... What happened... I'm going to settle in... Classified... Anyone want to come with me? I'll need... You four civilians."

The first civilian to step up looked a bit more casual than most of the other civilians there, but nervous nonetheless. He was Gary, or at least that was who Tracey correctly recognised him as.

"Okay, Gary... Ah, I see that you have two pokéballs on your waist. You could very well be of good use to us. What are your pokémon, by any chance?"

The response was instant and reassuringly Gary-like: "the usual: Nidoking and Arcanine."

"Well then, I hope that nobody decides to attack with a bucket of water," Tracey commented with an innocent wink. Soft chuckles could be heard.

The next civilian Tracey didn't realise. "I have two pokémon as well... Hitmonchan and Golduck."

"That's... Reassuring. So then, I now have Gary and... Your name is?" Tracey addressed the woman.

"Marina, former water trainer." Tracey found that name vaguely familiar, but he dismissed the thought immediately.

"Well, then let's see here... And you, what can you do to help us?" Tracey pointed at another female civilian.

Tracey noticed that she had no pokéballs on her waist. This meant that she either never had pokémon or she had some once and inevitably had them zealously turn against her.

"... Erm, I'm a good biochemist and I scored well on my... Rifle ranges!" came the response.

"Ick! Ick, ick, ick! I'm jealous! Very jealous!" Tracey joked, heralding a few laughs, "and your name is?"

"Violet Waterflower... Former trainer."

Tracey learned from her response that she did once have pokémon after all. Judging the reactions of Tracey, the civilians seemed to be more relaxed with him than before. Tracey silently nodded at the remaining civilian, the renowned Dr. Oak. Dr. Oak nodded back, accepting himself in. Dr. Oak was a skilled biologist and, as Tracey had proven before, a man with a good aim.

The officers straightened themselves up as they prepared to separate from the others. Tracey faced them. "You two should head to the league base... Here, I can... Give you an escort... To guard you, just wait while I get it."

Tracey began to shuffle for something on his waist. After a good bit of shaking, he held the pokéball in his hand at the military staff. "Hassamu, come with these officers as they head to the base and protect them with your life," Tracey ordered as he chucked the ball to the ground.

In a sheen of red, it materialised from the ball.

It (definition: a pokémon, if you can call it that)

Officer and civilian alike stared at it with a mixture of awe and fear- except for Tracey, who was simply crossing his arms. His knew his "new" pokémon for a long time.

It silently nodded it's main head at Tracey as it turned to the officers.

As they departed, Tracey looked back at his small "team" of civilians. His next instructions were simple.

"Follow me."

Ruins of Viridian City- 14:30

They had all made it past Route 1, surprisingly exhausted after their walk. The place was littered with once-smoking debris. Shattered pieces of glass and hard plastic were clustered quite dangerously everywhere they went. Rotting bodies were "placed" in random locations wherever the team laid their feet, making the place smell like the combination of rotten eggs and sewage: the familiar stench of death.

A few remains of skyscrapers dotted the surface, poking up a maximum of 2dam into the air. They had once shone in a dazzling gray/blue sheen, now they were a disgusting pinkish-brown.

This distinguishing (not to mention distinguished) scenario proved the league's history right that there was a nuclear strike on the area almost a year ago, code named "poindexter". The bomb had a 2.0Kt explosive nuclear force and it contained Uranium for its detonation. It was a lot like the bomb dropped on Hiroshima about 75 years before; relative to other nuclear weapons, it was a tiny, concentrated blast (yet it was still a nuclear bomb).

The area was no longer radioactive to the point of poisoning; all that was left was a heap- or so intelligence thought. Tracey, like a lot of senior officers, was less convinced and more determined. Before he would find another post, Tracey had planned to get some resources the league might need: gun stocks, pokéballs, secret community documents (Viridian City is, rather was, community to the most of the league's knowledge). The reward would certainly be worth it- Tracey might even get a promotion! Now was his chance to fill up.

Tracey removed his helmet once again with both of his hands before holding it tightly under his armpit. All the civilians surrounding him stopped; they knew that Tracey was going to speak as he stomped one of his feet hard on the dirt.

Once again, it was hard for Tracey to talk. "This is it, everyone... Split up now... I'd like everyone to try and collect useful supplies such as... Guns, pokéballs and stuff like that. Common sense, in other words. Check to see if what you find work... Before... Returning... We shall meet up at the location I'm standing on at sundown... Don't stray off... Too far or you'll get lost. If you're lost... Nobody's here to help you... Understood?

They all nodded without any sort of reluctance.

***

It wasn't much longer before Gary Oak was on his own (like all the other people in his team, that is). Gary had heard of the poindexter strike on Viridian City, yet never before had he ever seen the destruction caused. The place had its own individual settings: a disgusting dark reddish-brown colour for starters, an engulfing, almost scary silence and as usual, the stench of the long-expired rotting dead. H-m, Gary thought, wonder how we'll find anything on this particular Hell.

At a glance, Gary couldn't help but notice the features of his immediate surroundings: several buildings all around him (or rather, what was left of them), pieces broken off the burnt-out towering skyscrapers and where the familiar smell of rotting death came from: two long-dead bodies that were barely human in appearance.

The bodies had once been community troopers: one [man] and one [woman]. Oddly enough, the [man] had nothing left of him from the waist down. The [woman] seemed to be fully intact though (at most), lying face-down on the stale soil that replaced the concrete. Both of the bodies reminded Gary of the stuffed animals (the display type, not the cuddly type) that were beginning to rot away; there were holes opening up in both of their bodies that Gary didn't want to glance at again in case the site of their insides would make him vomit.

The stench was growing ever-stronger and more repellent, but Gary tried to avoid it as he inspected the bodies more closely. The [man] was holding a gun limply, still in his arms even after over a year of being dead.

Gary took the weapon from the [man]'s helpless arms. It was a sub-machine gun of some kind. Gary inspected the weapon closely to see that there was still ammunition inside. To test the automatic Gary fired once in the air, only to find that there was no sound. Okay, Gary thought, check for a silencer. He looked at the barrel to find nothing attached even resembling a silencer. However, at a glance Gary noticed something else.

"Rust!" In a fit of frustration, Gary chucked the useless weapon to the ground, having more pessimistic thoughts about the chances that there was really anything left.

***

Meanwhile, Violet Waterflower was also searching for something, anything at all that could somehow be of use. Her surroundings were much the same as they always were since they arrived, which was unfortunate as that made it much easier to get lost among the burnt-out buildings.

Violet sighed as the smell of death made her remember when her six pokémon all disappeared from her belt about two years ago at base L-8. Three months later, they led a squadron to the base made up of a variety of pokémon until it crumbled to bits, Violet nearly getting crushed herself by the falling debris.

The dead that she was looking at had been crushed in similar ways, according to Violet's observations. However, smashed would be a better word to use as they had been through the shockwave of a nuke.

Violet thought bleakly at the prospect of ever finding anything; it was even harder to look when her concentration was broken by the dead surrounding her. They reminded Violet too much about her own current chances of survival to old age in general.

However, she persistently kept on looking for what could be made useful. As Violet observed to her left and right, edging her way around her area, she noticed something at her feet. It was an automatic weapon of some kind, with a long silencer barrel fitted on.

On close inspection of the barrel Violet had, oddly enough, found absolutely no visible trace of rust. Although this seemed clearly suspicious, Violet still didn't hesitate to use that chance to arm herself. Violet's blatant dismissal led to an unexpected consequence, though as she suddenly found her new gun pointing at the head of nobody but herself.

Before Violet had a chance to respond/react, she was dead. The soft yet high-pitch sound of the gun firing past the silencer barrel highlighted what would be the very last thing that would go through her brain before the bullets came inside it themselves.

After a few seconds of holding the dead woman's hair, it let go of it, reassured. The league clothing on her made it nervous; if one was there, there was a serious likelihood that there were several league members in the area, each one presenting a threat. Looking at the corpse that was Violet Waterflower, it got up and walked off slowly... Nervously...

***

Marina seemed to be lucky enough with the "mission" that she was given to do. She had found some ammunition, a first aid kit and five empty pokéballs. After a good bit of walking it was getting hard to concentrate on the search with the weight on her arms being harder and harder to carry. She hadn't heard from anyone in her "team" after they had split up. The sun was still far from setting below the mountains, yet for some reason Marina didn't feel like walking much further. Alright, Marina thought, I'll retrace my steps, I've done what I could...

After a short, abrupt stop, Marina turned around to head back the way she came, bringing her load with her. Okay, Marina thought, I'll retrace my steps back because I've already done what I could do...

After a short, abrupt stop, Marina turned around to head back the way she came to where they split up with her load. Okay, Marina thought, easy does it- her thinking stopped as she heard a sickening crunch below her feet. Marina, on a sort of impulse, looked down to see what she stepped on to see Violet's pale face. Violet's mouth was wide open, gaping and overflowing with thick blood. Considering Violet's forehead, though, there was nothing left of it except for sharp cranial fractures and more blood. Marina didn't need to check for a pulse.

Ruins of Viridian City- 17:30

A rather exhausted yet restless Marina was the first to arrive, long before the sun had set. Then came Tracey, with some equipment that he had found inside the unstable buildings. Dr. Oak was the next to arrive, carrying a large green box. Gary was the last survivor to arrive, bringing some ammo clips that he had found in rusted sub-machine guns recovered from some of the bodies.

In a way, the group felt secure to no longer be alone. However, they were all shaken in response when they heard about what happened to Violet from Marina- except for Tracey, who was too deep in thought about battles won and lost that he had survived and people dying right in front of him to notice for, in his view, it all overshadowed a simple casualty.

Everyone was beginning to slowly start to adapt to the nauseating smell of rotting Human flesh- again, the exception was Tracey, who had adapted to deal with it from long ago.

It wasn't long before the party "used" their equipment. Within minutes of arrival, Tracey had taken out a portable Bunsen burner from what he had found among the wrecked towers. Dr. Oak was applying and injecting some hormones from the first-aid kit on himself, while Gary used Tracey's portable Bunsen burner to set the bandages alight for a central fire.

When the bandages were set alight by the flame, Gary hastily dropped them on the ground below, making everyone respond by simultaneously making way for the blaze as it crackled on the once-flat, humus-covered ground.

***

The night-time sky wasn't clear at all; nobody had seen any stars that night. However, one topic of conversation among the ruins seemed to be more important than the view: the scare caused with the discovery of Violet's death. An unease was building up among the civilians, an unease with little extent...

"I think that a sort of automatic weapon might have killed her," Marina pointed out, "but still, Violet's head was pretty much butchered by whatever-it-was so it's hard to tell if bullets were the cause."

A long silence followed those words as the reality check settled into everyone- except for Tracey, who had never spoken at all and looked vaguely dormant.

After a moment of utter eerie quiet, Gary continued, "we need to focus on one thing: defense. Otherwise, we may all MEET Violet- in a gory, painful way."

Tracey observed Gary's "speech" with a quiet amusement. Although behaving like a "leader" would not be thought of nicely in the league human military (generally speaking), Gary, in Tracey's view, had a good point indeed.

Gary continued speaking. "...Whatever can be used as a weapon, is a weapon. Anyone got anything here?"

"I'll handle this," Tracey cut in, "nobody forget that you're all... Civilians. Now... I'll take this as an opportunity to ask people what they got. Professor Oak, can you tell me what's in that green box?"

Attention diverted at that moment to Dr. Oak, who was staying protectively beside his large green box. Nobody in the parts other than Dr. Oak knew what was inside, and standard human curiosity just told Gary and Marina that something interesting was inside.

Dr. Oak sighed, looking at the box. Answering Marina and his grandson's eagerness, he turned the box carefully before flicking it open.

Everyone else's angle of sight prevented them from seeing what was inside; the opened side hatch of the box blocked their view. However, they could see what they were waiting for in full detail when Dr. Oak removed the contents.

For the first time since he had arrived at [Viridian City], Tracey Sketcher was actually surprised. Surprised at the gleam at what Dr. Oak "displayed", surprised at the presence of the objects themselves: two clean, dark and deadly sub-machine guns.

Ruins of Viridian City- 19:00

Peering past a corner of an eviscerated skyscraper, Mikey seen them. Them, he thought, what an anonymous concept. How about this: three league civilians, two of which carrying firearms, and a heavily armored shock commander? Yes, Mikey thought, that's more like it. Stealthily and precisely, Mikey drew his blood-stained automatic in front of his similarly smeared community military uniform.

Mikey still remembered his last kill in full detail, one on a female league civilian of some sort who was after taking his gun (that was what Mikey had originally assumed). It reminded him about when his Efie went missing from his belt. His brothers thought that it had abandoned him like all of their own pokémon, but Mikey passionately guarded his own view that it was stolen, not leaving in his own will. This should be a blast, Mikey thought devilishly as he aimed at a random hostile, not hesitating to run closer for the kill...

The two civilians who had equipped the guns were Marina and Gary Oak. Despite having the important responsibility placed on them to correctly care for the weapons, Gary and Marina decided to have a gas-fireside chat with Dr. Oak and Tracey, who were both sitting still and content. So, you could imagine that when a community trooper would come prancing around and start wildly firing an automatic weapon, they were caught by surprise.

However, Tracey had been trained for this sort of situation many a time and he knew what to do now. The man had been aiming at him, and he had a good aim yet none of the bullets could penetrate his armor. Tracey nearly laughed in response to the bullets ricocheting in several directions, but he knew that the ricochet of a bullet could always hit another civilian, so he advanced quickly towards the blazing weapon.

As a sort of impulse to the shock, everyone surrounding Tracey except for the antagonist fell down on the ground. The exception to this occurrence was Tracey, who instead dove down on his target with his wrist blades bared.

Within a good second, a bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the rubble that was Viridian City, followed by the halting of gunfire. For a still moment of tension, all that was heard was the wind before a sickening tearing sound (not to mention sensation) agitated the surroundings.

The civilians got up after they realised that they just might be safe, to see Tracey standing above a dead community officer, blood covering the both of them. None of the blood was Tracey's, yet it was all over his blades.

***

Although you could swear that it looked hot in the wasteland, it was far from it at the dark of night. A cool wind blew below the temperature of refreshment and it looked as if snow was going to fall at some point, yet it just didn't come. Tracey was perfectly snug in his protective suit, while the civilians shivered in reaction to the cold.

The dead soldier was chucked away somewhere and in a few minutes, the party was back beside the fire, polishing their weapons among other things. Tracey had been cleaning his blades on the bandages while inspecting the body of the soldier. On close inspection, there was something in the soldier's pocket: a slip of paper, folded and dry from the cooling blood.

Tracey removed the paper scrap and unveiled its folds slowly and expectantly. Apparently it was scribbled on with a black pen. The scribble formed a diagram, the diagram a visible plan of his area. After a few seconds of close inspection, Tracey found out where he was n the map judging by his immediate surroundings.

Judging by the scrap, just north of Tracey's location the diagram had a small square printed on. Inside the square there were two simple characters: B7.

"Holy shit," Tracey remarked. It was, by far, the smartest thing that he felt that he could say about it.

***

The civilians looked at Tracey when he returned, noticing his facial expression. They were curious. Tracey looked back at them, carrying a scrap of paper with something drawn on it. The face of Dr. Oak asked the question for him. Tracey nodded back, aiming his thumb back over his shoulder.

"Let's go," Tracey ordered, turning around.

And they followed him.

[Route 22]-about 19:30

The snow had gone now, replaced by yellow, dead grass as a chinook swept across the lower areas of the plateau and everything around it. Patches of snow shined on by the moonlight remained on the ground that was stepped over by Blaine. Blaine approached the ruin with his helmet off and his eyes blankly staring into the horizon, where past the darkness he could make out a town that was in total ruins, the post-explosive rubble decorating the ground. The brown of the wreckage merged well with the yellow of the grass.

Blaine found a spot clear of the snow and stripped off the riot gear, but keeping the machine gun and the winter clothing. The cold air found a chance now to enter his nostrils, fresh yet somewhat uncomfortable. Blaine, deciding to keep his bulletproof vest, brought out his machine gun and walked slowly, closer and closer, to the wasteland that once was Viridian City.

Community base B7 located in [Viridian City]- 19:45

The place seemed calm and almost hypnotic. The smell of death couldn't get past the entrance and exit hallways of the small underground base and it was as if Viridian City was still intact if you step inside. Like in B8, the environment was the concrete. However, it was a lot smaller and held a lot less troops. One of these troops was Butch, chief of internal security at the base.

Calmly pushing button after button on his keyboard to look from different camera angles through his security monitors, Butch started to briefly reflect on other things like he usually did: his friends Cassidy and Giovanni, Mewtwo and the league. Butch thought about those things often; he usually tended to think negatively.

Cassidy and Giovanni were Butch's best friends, always covering him, always protective of him and always agreeing with him. They were both members of Team Rocket like Butch was once, however due to complicated circumstances Team Rocket's size became sufficient to create civil war, hence the community's creation. By that time, Giovanni was killed and nobody seemed to be able to remember why for some reason. Cassidy was killed a short time later by league troops during a mission of espionage.

Butch insistently kept concentrating on his work, checking around places in the small base to see what was happening. As usual, there was nothing odd; it was quite a crowded place so nobody in the league had, to the most of their knowledge, tried to invade B7... Yet.

However, at one quickly diminishing moment Butch couldn't help but notice something other than usual from the view of one monitor. It was only seen from the corner of his eye and only seen for part of a second. But Butch could guess what it was, if he wasn't seeing things.

"Benoît, check out..." Butch was talking to his most trusted guard through the built-in radio on his computer.

"This who you're looking for?" answered a voice from behind, tapping Butch's back.

Butch glanced to where the voice came from to see Benoît, blood dripping slowly from his blackened eyes as a tap would drip water with his mouth hanging wide open. Benoît's forehead was smashed in; jagged pieces of cranial bone revealed gaps filled in with an assortment of thick blood and gray gunk (Butch didn't exactly know what it was, but he could make a good guess). Butch noticed that a hand held up Benoît's barely intact hair.

"Heh, he'd actually BELIEVE that he wasn't dead," someone from behind Benoît's "standing" body taunted, as the hand let go, letting Benoît simply drop to the ground revealing what was assumed was his killer.

"Alright, you know very well what to do: last words, accept the plug and let me move on," Gary commanded, drawing a sub-machine gun in front of his white league shirt.

Butch was unsure of what to do, because he seemed to have virtually no choice. Butch wondered if there was a way out of the situation... Some sort of delay in the man's actions... Any distraction...

Gary spared a moment to spit to his side casually, which was, in Butch's view, a foolish mistake. Within that moment, Butch used that moment to pounce on the aggressor. The chair was kicked back as Butch hurled his entire body from it onto Gary's chest.

Gary may have been a good shot, but he didn't have good enough coordination to dodge before being roughly throttled onto the wall. When Gary's back impacted with the hard concrete wall, he felt a weird crushing sensation inside his back. This was followed by a seething pain circulating within his spine. Gary hollered in anguish as he realised that he not only was in pain, but that he couldn't get back up. Butch looked down at the suffering Gary to reach out and take the gun from his helpless arms.

"Alright, you know very well what to do: last words, accept the plug and let me move on... Ass," Butch commanded, pushing the barrel of the weapon against Gary's chest. The tables had turned; now Butch had Gary's gun, now the barrel was aimed at Gary.

Gary noticed something from the edge of his sight as he stared oddly for a few seconds into the automatic's barrel. "...I have some last words, matter-of-factly."

Butch didn't twitch; he didn't know how he gained control so easily, yet he didn't fancy to be contemplating anything as it was his time. He- Butch- was in control. "...And your last words are?"

"Heads up."

Butch cocked an eyebrow as he wondered by what Gary meant for a second before it hit him- literally. After a few dizzying seconds on the floor beside Gary with a nauseating pain in his head, he blacked out.

***

Gary, now lying beside the fallen Butch, looked up to see Dr. Oak quickly holster his sub-machine gun in front of him. "Grandson, are you all right?" Dr. Oak noticed the second he noticed that something was very wrong with Gary.

There was no answer; it was treated like a rhetorical question. Nodding silently, Dr. Oak turned to Butch. Gary forcefully watched as Dr. Oak aimed the barrel of his gun at Butch's face...

"Stop. We need... Someone to live... For this mission," a voice ordered from behind.

Dr. Oak looked over his shoulder to see Tracey Sketcher. Evidently, he knew that he had no choice. Dr. Oak turned around, sighing as he placed Gary's weapon on the floor. Tracey stepped up to see Butch's injuries closer.

"Well then, Dr. Oak... I see that you're good with the back of that gun," Tracey commented, chuckling heartily.

In one fleeting, tense moment footsteps were heard. Tracey let his circular wrist blades to reveal themselves, ready for hostility. The pit-patter of footsteps stopped when Marina appeared, automatic sturdily equipped on her arm. Marina holstered her weapon at the spooky yet reassuring sight of Tracey.

"I seized the manual computer controls," Marina reported, "I think that the post B7 is clear now."

Tracey grinned. "...Thank you."

Tracey was about to walk to the control area when something rang in his mind. Something, he felt, that was important: Gary. "What's happened to him?" Tracey asked Dr. Oak.

Dr. Oak shrugged and said nothing. Tracey looked fixated at Gary (apparently enough) and within a few seconds, so was everybody else. Clearing his throat, Gary was about to explain, but he realised that his condition explained itself.

Gary Oak was a cripple.

Ruins of Viridian City- 20:00

Blaine was in what was left of the big city for five minutes and already he was growing accustomed to the stench of burnt human death. The place also was in almost total darkness, making Blaine learn the hard way how easy it was to lose himself among the burnt-out buildings. It was as if everything was usually unusual.

However, something seemed very odd to Blaine, even when it was barely seen at the dead of night. It was a small and perfectly intact rectangular building with a sort of gray sheen, not to mention a pole bearing a stand-alone community flag. On the flag the letters engraved were: B7. It was as if it was, in comparison, unusually usual.

The place was obviously built after the nuke hit. Blaine knew what to do now as he responded- to his stomach and a sudden blood lust. After more than a day of starvation, Blaine opted to stop for some supplies, more accurately "food".

***

Gary Oak had been laid down to rest in his crippled yet living body in a room in crew quarters, which used to belong to a community soldier, an alive community soldier. As Gary forcefully slept, Tracey, Marina and Dr. Oak marched/walked to the outside, where they would stand guard.

Dr. Oak had taken Gary's pokémon at request to use as extra guards, making there now be not three but seven living beings to stand guard. The four pokémon that they had (Hitmonchan, Golduck, Arcanine and Nidoking) had yet to be let out of their pokéballs.

The place was a narrow hallway that was, for defense purposes, the exit. Gloomy yet welcoming lights covered the hallway's ceiling. It would be a nightmare for any claustrophobe. The darkness of the outside could be seen far ahead, bringing the cold and the smell with its very sight.

Unlike the "mildly" shell-shocked civilians, Tracey was very cheerful indeed. Somehow, his strategy combined with three moderately armed civilians had conquered a "relatively small" community base that used to have a stable population of 18.

When Tracey felt this secure, he felt like talking, however shy he was. "Let's cheer up, people," Tracey requested, "We got all the... Resources... That we need to get a decent reward. You all might get awarded medals, risking lives or not."

The silence that followed was almost rude to Tracey, but he still kept in mind that the civilians would not forget about the incidents that happened since they arrived. One of them was dead (still rotting somewhere a fair distance away) and one that might stay sitting for his entire life had been the casualties.

Tracey was determined to make his neighbors happier before they would have to stand guard, for they would leave the next day with the stolen goods from the community base and Gary (presuming that he would have to be carried). With his own persistence, Tracey continued to try to restore morale.

"What's your favorite... Oxymoron? Mine's rap music."

Dr. Oak chuckled a little. "Mine's jumbo shrimp." They all laughed, just outside the exit hallway and into the ruin.

***

Shit! That was all that surged, could surge or needed to surge through Blaine's mind at that moment as he noticed a few league people leaving the base (much to his surprise, as he thought that they would be of the community if it was a community base) to emerge within a perfect visual range. After a quick scamper behind an ex-building, Blaine came to his senses again, blood lust bubbling within his arteries. Hesitating to come out with his automatic blazing, Blaine waited for the sound of the footsteps to finally diminish. Along with the footsteps, Blaine could hear a conversation.

"My favorite oxymoron has to be... Normal element!"

"What about crash landing?"

"I got one: organised crime!" They then seemed to degrade into laughter.

After a few seconds, the sound of feet hitting dirt stopped, so Blaine decided to make his move toward the (community?) base. Carefully, Blaine appeared from the rubble and darted towards the entrance, carrying his gun with him.

"HALT!"

Blaine's heart stopped beating along with his legs on hearing the loud female voice. He was now within a few feet of the bright entrance to food and shelter, but frozen stiff in fear of not being able to get there without dying first.

"Hey, did you hear something?" asked another voice from the darkness, from a man that had a voice that sounded like he was Blaine's age.

"...I thought so."

"Well, I sure didn't."

"Ah, must have been hearing things, then."

"Comes with the job."

"Yeah, heh-heh."

After a few seconds, Blaine started breathing again- not to mention running. If his life wasn't in serious risk, he would've burst out laughing at the concept of the oversight. Arriving inside the shelter of the base where he would restock, Blaine raised up his gun for immediate battle while thinking, my favorite oxymoron of all... Has to be military intelligence.