“Whispers in the Dark”

Chapter 6: Though I Go Ten Thousand Miles

By: Crichton55

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A/N: I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to write this one freaking chapter, but the fact that I finally have it done makes me feel all happy inside. Spending fourteen hours in a van full of fellow Boy Scouts, who are all running on everything from Skittles to Monster Energy drinks, on the way to Colorado from southeast Kansas for a week-long summer camp? Yeah, that leaves me with a whole crapload of writing time, but not much concentration. I don’t mean to spoil some little details, but I have to say that I had to do something really bad with the storyline that’s tied in with “In the Arms of an Angel” in order for the whole thing to work. If I didn't, then that chapter (prologue, technically) would've been totally pointless. Please don’t flame me when you read this! Thank you and have a nice day.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Misty was unable to realize exactly how fast she was running, her mind clouded with nothing save the increasingly remote possibility of reaching their destination. She ran and ran and ran down into the bowels of the unending hallway lined with metal doors with her friends in hot pursuit. Ash struggled to keep up with her, his breath becoming more and more strained and hoarse with each sprinting step that pounded through his aching chest.

Increasing amounts of gunfire flew past their heads as the three trainers rocketed down hallways and blazed around corners, each with their own glint of hope that was rapidly deteriorating with every turn they made. With every step he took, Ash felt an increasingly heavy blanket of horror and despair plague him as though someone were attempting to strangle him with a thick bedspread.

There was a crack abnormally louder than the rest of the bangs that issued from the guns pursuing them, and Ash didn’t need to be told why. One of the bullets had found its mark. There was a massive scream of pain and Brock slumped to his feet, clutching his now bloody leg.

“BROCK!” Ash screeched to a halt and attempted to run towards Brock, but Misty, taking notice of this diversion of attention, applied her own brakes and flung her arm out to Ash, grabbing him by the back of his shirt. “Ash! Leave him! He’s not the one that matters now! Look, I don’t like it either, but if we don’t continue on, Team Rocket will never be stopped and thousands of innocent lives will be lost!” Ash quickly glanced from Brock to Misty and back again. He did not want to leave his friend there to die, but on the other hand, he did not wish to be blamed for the deaths of half the region’s population if he was fortunate enough to survive. He looked directly into Brock’s eyes with a mixture of dread and sorrow clearly written on his face. Brock nodded solemnly before diverting his gaze to his wounded leg, which was bleeding profusely.

Ash turned to resume his previous act of fleeing, but upon doing so he realized that he had hesitated for a fraction of a second too long. Team Rocket soldiers had caught up to the trio, wasting no time forming an impenetrable barrier of foot-soldiers around the three trainers, their weapons drawn. They did not possess the look of playing around as they made the circle tighter and tighter around Ash, Misty, and Brock. Ash knew that this time they meant business, somehow instinctively aware of the fact that the only reason that they did not open fire is due to them waiting for further instructions from an unknown source. He did not need to wait long.

“Hold your fire!” The dark and ominous voice rang out in the long hallway, though no-one required themselves to ask where the spooky voice had originated. Emerging from the darkness came a tall man dressed in a fine red suit, however instead of giving the usual long and drawn out stereotypical speech, he began to clap his abnormally large hands slowly. Misty buried herself into Ash’s arms and began to shake uncontrollably, whimpering. She knew that this hallway looked too familiar. She had felt the back of her strained mind nag at her while she ran. This wasn’t just coincidence. She had seen this before and knew exactly how it was going to play out.

The man continued to clap as he advanced into the circle of soldiers who appeared to be all too ready to begin firing their guns once more. Halting thirty feet from where Ash and Misty stood rooted to the spot, he ceased his slow applause and smiled devilishly as he took out an antique pocket-watch from his suit pocket, examining it. “It took you three thirty minutes to escape. With your reputation, Ketchum, I was expecting something a little more impressive.” The man’s false cheerfulness churned the gears of Ash’s anger involuntarily as the man replaced the timekeeping device back into his suit pocket.

Producing a Pokeball seemingly from out of nowhere, the man threw it high into the air, and within seconds Ash and Misty were staring up into the face of a very big and very mean looking Rhydon. Assuming that this translated into the desire for a battle, Ash began to walk forward slowly, but it was then that he realized that Misty had ceased to shiver in his arms. She walked past Ash in an apparent attempt to accept the challenge that appeared to be directed towards him. Trying to reclaim the right to battle the unknown opponent, Ash put his arm around Misty, but before it had fully surrounded her she slapped it away harshly before diverting her attention back to the man.

Misty began to breathe very heavily, for the long run for their lives had left her with the feeling that all the air around her had ceased to exist. Pulling out a random PokeBall from her pocket and enlarging it, she slowly advanced to accept the man’s challenge. “I do not wish to fight you, Giovanni,” she wheezed, clutching her side to ease the enormous pain that the sprinting had caused. “I know that you will most likely win anyway and that you’ve got a 9mm handgun in your back pocket with Ash’s name on it, so why bother fighting you?” she inquired grimly as she struggled to maintain control of her now trembling arm.

Brock squealed weakly and Ash gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough, both actions to which neither Misty nor Giovanni paid much attention. Giovanni continued to exhibit the same ominous smirk as he withdrew Rhydon back into its PokeBall. He did not say a word as he walked towards Ash, holding his hands up and turning them around to show he was holding nothing.

“You never cease to amaze me, Ash. You got through Viridian Forest in one day when it takes others over half a week. You saved the world from inevitable destruction on multiple occasions. You even battled the most powerful Pokemon in existence and survived. But once again you three have meddled with Team Rocket’s plans one too many times, an annoyance that must be dealt with.” Giovanni finished his monologue abruptly and coldly, turning around and walking about ten feet in the direction he came from. He pulled out from his back pocket the pistol whose existence Misty had predicted and aimed it at her chest.

Fare thee well
My own true love
Farewell for a while
I’m going away
But I’ll be back
Though I go 10,000 miles

Misty had no way of reacting fast enough to be able to push Ash out of the way in time as he hurled himself swiftly in between her and the leader of Team Rocket. The single shot that seemed to ripple the air around them was drowned out by Misty’s scream of terror as Ash began to fall in slow motion. Time seemed to involuntarily slow to a creep. Blood pounded to her head as she watched every agonizing frame in horror as he slowly and rather brutally slammed into the ground.

10,000 miles
My own true love
10,000 miles or more
The rocks may melt
And the seas may burn
If I should not return

Time seemed to speed up just as fast as it had slowed down, for the echoing sound of the bullet seemed to become immensely loud in conjunction with Misty’s earsplitting shriek. No, this wasn’t happening, not again. Ash had not been hit. All her senses must be betraying her.

Oh don’t you see
That lonesome dove
Sitting on an ivy tree
She’s weeping for
Her own true love
As I shall weep for mine

“ASH!!!!” she howled, dropping to Ash’s side and turning him over to face her. The bullet had hit the exact spot where it had hit in her dream, the blood coating the same area of his vest and making the same weird patterns that she didn’t bother to take much notice of. He coughed rather violently, his face contorting with pain from the wound in his chest.

“M-Misty…I’m…sorry. You were right. I was going to die here. All of us are. I should’ve listened,” moaned Ash, squirming on the cold floor. “No! Ash, don’t you dare say that!” sobbed Misty, gripping both hands tightly around his right hand that had lain motionless at his side.

Ash brought Misty’s hands up to his lips and kissed the back of her right hand, looking into her waterlogged eyes for what he knew was the last time. He could feel his breathing becoming more and more strained with every gulp of air he brought into his aching lungs. “We tried, Misty. That’s all that matters at this point,” he said flatly.

Misty sobbed even harder. “No, we c-can still d-do this! You c-can still b-beat them!” she wailed, clutching Ash’s hands even tighter as though she were trying to stop him from being sucked into a tornado. Ash merely shook his head. “No, this wound won’t heal. All we can do now is to-“ He coughed yet again and droplets of blood flew from his mouth. “Misty, take this,” he whispered softly, his gaze still glued to his love’s eyes as he withdrew a slightly battered but well made pocket knife with a picture of a Pikachu splattered across the front and an engraving that read “I love you” on the back. He winced once again as he attempted to lightly shove it into Misty’s hands that refused to separate from his own. She took it reluctantly and opened the knife to reveal a four inch long stainless steel blade that bore an engraving that clearly read in small letters, “You'll never be alone. When darkness comes you know I'm never far. Hear my Whispers in the Dark.”

“A-Ash, p-please. D-don’t die!” Misty howled, her breathing becoming increasingly heavy and irregular as she closed her shaking hands around the knife's handle. “We all die,” said Ash grimly. He gave another raspy and bloody cough, but still Misty didn’t seem to bother to take any notice of the blood droplets that splattered against her face.

Ash's field of vision began to swirl and he felt his energy slowly draining away. He knew that he had only seconds until he had one last breath remaining. He began to softly hum a tune that was eerily familiar to Misty, yet she didn't know what it was.

“Oh, come ye back.” Ash had started to quietly sing the song he had heard countless times before. His voice was raspy, far from the loud deep singing he had produced at the Goldenrod City Pokemon Center, but Misty didn't care. Her chest heaved harder than ever, her eyes swimming with tears.

“My own true love
And stay a while with me
If I had a friend
All on this earth
You’ve been a friend to me”

Ash struggled to keep his head up slightly, but he knew that the last bit of precious energy he had possessed had betrayed him. “I..love...you...Mis...ty...” he breathed. His head fell backwards, his arms went limp, and his body was still.

Misty continued to stare down upon Ash's broken and lifeless body. The overwhelming and unbelievable reality that he could no longer see her face through his blank stare steamrollered throughout her brain. Her mind felt as though it had shut down, her breathing becoming more erratic.

A low and evil chuckle rumbled through the hallway. Giovanni began to advance towards Misty, his gun at his side. Misty raised her head in time to see the Italian shoes stop in front of her, the shininess reflecting the dull light of the long hallway. She stared at the shoes, eying a small patch that embroidered the only side that was visible from her angle. The design was simple, but something told her that there was more to it than a red PokeBall with the initials ”D.C.” taking up the upper half. She did not know what it meant or who it could be referring to. Misty's eyes involuntarily drifted down again to Ash's lifeless body that lay before her.

The effect was instantaneous. She had never experienced such an immensely intense wave of fury and hatred as she gazed into Ash's blank and lifeless stare. Misty no longer knew who or where she was. All conscious thought had been unceremoniously expelled from her mind, leaving behind the only objective that her infinite antagonism would allow. She instantly wanted nothing less than to brutally murder the man who had taken her love away from her, to slash apart every last pulsating vein in his miserable and pathetic body. She wanted to kill every last Rocket that stood in her way; she did not care if they had AK-47s. Misty looked back up to Giovanni's emotionless face, a flash of crimson darting across her eyes. “You are dead, girl.”

Misty moved faster than Giovanni could ever have anticipated. His gun had barely even begun to move upward when she launched herself up with tremendous force that thrust her towards Giovanni's face. There was a white flash of shiny steel followed by a splatter of blood that accompanied an ear-shattering scream of pain.

Misty landed skillfully at Giovanni's feet and looked up to assess the damage she had inflicted, Ash's engraved knife held tightly in her hand. He was no longer sporting a look of triumph and hatred. His face had contorted into a conglomeration of surprise and pain. He involuntarily dropped the gun at Misty's feet and clutched his neck that had mercilessly and brutally been slashed open and was now bleeding uncontrollably.

The air exploded. The Rockets, who were in the process of raising their AK-47s, were unceremoniously blown backwards, away from a purple barrier that engulfed Misty, a fatally wounded Giovanni, and the bodies of Ash and Brock. As the smoke rapidly cleared from the spontaneous explosion, Misty saw the floating outline of Mewtwo, his face sporting an angry expression as he phased through the purple barrier he had conjured.

“How many times do I have to come in here and bail you out of-” Mewtwo started angrily, but he trailed off abruptly as his eyes fell on Ash's broken body that lay at Misty's feet. The purple force-field disappeared instantly. She sensed his gaze on him, for she turned back to Giovanni, who had fallen to his knees but was still squeezing his bloody neck. She began to viciously stab him repeatedly in every spot that she could possibly reach and did not stop when he had completely fallen to the floor and became motionless. She screamed as she ripped and slashed apart what was left of his body, unable to control the raging fury and mental pain that mercilessly tore through her mind.

Mewtwo found his voice, though he could not hide his own grief through his telepathic roar. “Misty, stop! That’s enough, he’s already dead!” His eyes glowed blue as he telekinetically froze Misty’s blood-drenched hand, but her crazed expression and heavy breathing remained. He drifted in front of her and stood on the cold, hard floor, no longer suspended in mid-air in an aura of extrasensory energy. He raised Misty's head up to face his own, not with telekinesis, but with his three-fingered hand that quaked slightly.

Misty's face was soaked with tears. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, the meandering rivers of tears cascading down her cheeks like a river snaking its way down a high mountain. Her breathing continued to be heavy and erratic, her arms shaking violently. “W-why d-did A-Ash d-do that?” she sobbed. Mewtwo could tell that this childish-sounding question was all Misty had the capability to say, for she sobbed harder than ever.

The psychic Pokemon gazed into her bloodshot eyes, and it somehow reminded him of himself, how he knew he could never comprehend the emotional torture that Giovanni had caused the redheaded girl and how he longed to fully understand the immense love that he saw between the two trainers. He knew he was merely a science experiment that was designed to fight, not love, but he couldn't help but feel a slight bond with Misty. He didn't know what it was, but he knew rather instinctively it wasn't the bond that she and Ash had shared. “Because he loved you more than anything, Misty,” he croaked. “He was willing to sacrifice anything for you, including his own life.”

Misty reached up to feel Mewtwo's bony cheek, but it was at that moment that the psychic Pokemon knew instinctively that something was not right. His adrenaline spiked as he held up his hand to stop her. “Wait. Something's wrong.” His voice was stern but Misty sensed a bit of fear in his telepathic speech as he looked up and stared down the long hallway. “Mewtwo? What's up?” asked Misty. Mewtwo did not answer.

His eyes instantly turned blood red with what Misty could only guess to be negative psychic energy. Mewtwo knew what was happening; he knew he had to protect Misty from himself. “M-Mis-ty! R-Run! F-Find the ma-chine! DE-STROY IT!” He struggled fruitlessly against the Serum he knew was reacting with the frequency he could not fight. He felt himself losing control of his own brain, felt the intense inability to resist plaguing his mind. He used what little control he had left to attempt to push Misty away, but too late. The last of his ability to resist betrayed him, and he was no longer able to recognize Misty, who began to back away with a terrified look on her face.

Mewtwo stared at her menacingly for a few seconds before turning to face what was left of Giovanni's body. A red aura began glowing around him, followed by the hallway lights dimming slightly. Misty watched in amazement and horror as the wounds that she had made all over Giovanni's body began to heal rapidly, the severed scraps of shredded flesh fusing together. She involuntarily continued to watch until the gashes closed completely, a red aura flashed around his body. Giovanni opened his eyes.

Misty opened her mouth to scream, but her surprise and disbelief was plugged by a hand that abruptly covered her mouth followed by the barely audible sound of Ash's voice whispering in her ear. “Shhh. Misty, c’mon. Let’s get outta here.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A/N: I don’t know why it took so long for this chapter, but I think that this one is by far the most thrilling and epic, not to mention dark. I apologize for temporarily killing off Ash and Brock, but, with the exception of Brock, I felt that if I didn’t it would have made “In the Arms of an Angel” a complete and utter waste of my precious time and energy to write. Kudos to the people who correctly guessed that “I.T.A.O.A.A.” was a premonition chapter designed purely to create a sense of fascination and an intense urge to read on. REVIEW, people! REVIEW! Bye, Bye!