Story Notes:
WARNING- All chapters from 2 onwards contain explicit violence and graphic gore... And lots of zombie killing. If you're offended by any of this stuff, DO NOT READ!Like comics? Check out the Biohazard manga, scripted and illustrated by Rio!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Without Mercy
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended
Without Mercy
Rocher hid behind a tree in terrified silence, watching the giant eat it's meal. Wet tearing sounds could be heard from the other side of the tree as the Bravo Team captain listened in disgust. The thing occasionally brought it's head down to rip out more chunks of flesh from the felled Jack; wet ribbons of body matter speckled with blue fur were visible between the monster's teeth.
Rocher quietly slid the clip out of his gun to check how many bullets he had spent shooting the thing. Fourteen remained in his clip, and he didn't have any more spare magazines. "Shit." He cursed quietly.
The creature paused for a second, but returned to the ruined corpse immediately after. The grass around Jack was stained crimson red.
Standing rigid, the captain waited for approximately a minute to make sure that it wouldn't try and attack him before silently slipping away into the forest. He had to find the rest of the team.
Wet grass scratched at his combat boots as he walked towards where he believed to be the area where he heard gunshots about an hour earlier. The temperature begun to fall to a damp uncomfortable chill; there was a thin layer of fog that had begun to form throughout the forest, slightly obscuring Rocher's vision.
Before long, he stumbled upon something soft and heavy that nearly caused him to fall over. Whatever had caught his boot made saturated sucking noises when he made an attempt to free his foot. Alarmed, he aimed his flashlight and gun directly downward and saw what had trapped him; he nearly gagged. Around Rocher's boot were the remains of Matt's lower torso that Rose had found earlier. Disgusted, he tore his foot free, taking some bloody strands of intestines with it. A foul stench had begun to permeate throughout the air around the severed body.
"Sorry, Matt." Rocher whispered. Bending over, he detached two magazines that still remained fixed to Matt's belt.
---
High above the ground of the Sinnoh Region, Human Unit (H.U.) 134 gazed out the window of the helicopter he was riding in. Down below the trees and dark fields resembled a rolling black ocean, ready to consume anything that got too close to its waves.
The helicopter he was riding in was one of the newest models- the massive forty-foot chopper was capable of carrying a maximum of about three tons. The interior was painted matte black just like the outside. Two rows of eighteen-foot stainless steel benches lined each wall of the chopper, stopping at the slide-out doors; every foot there was a small locker built into the benches to house mission equipment or personal belongings.
From the info he and the rest of the team had received from the Sinnoh Army Base, they would be landing in Eterna City at approximately two in the morning. Mission specifics were to shoot any person on site. The goal was complete sanitization of the city. Quite a big job to take care of, but at least a hundred more teams of fifteen would be arriving within the hour, all equipped with M-16s and Beretta M-9s. Apparently the whole operation had something to do with the recent outbreak of that freaky-ass disease that supposedly turned Pokemon into monsters.
"ETA for Eterna City: one minute." The helicopter pilot spoke into the chopper's speaker systems. "Don't forget your objective; get in there and wipe 'em all out. We can't let anyone out or into the city perimeter. Teams thirty-nine through eighty-two will set up a quarantined perimeter around the city and teams one through thirty-eight and teams eighty-three through one-hundred-fourteen will begin neutralization of city citizens." Looking out the side window, the pilot said, "Prepare for landing."
Inserting a clip into his M-16, H.U. 134 began to prepare for events to come. Word had it that these monsters or whatever-the-hell-they-were couldn't be killed by bullets. Bullshit. 134 felt a soft bump as the helicopter touched down on an office building. The fourteen other members began to shuffle about and load their guns. Some looked out the windows. Multiple fires could be seen through the small city; occasionally a faint scream would pierce the otherwise quiet night. After a minute or so of silence the pilot's voice crackled over the speaker system.
"Ok, troops. Get your gasmasks on."
All of the soldiers bent over and opened their assigned lockers, each pulling out a small-sized backpack. Inside of the first pouch was a gas mask. Taking it out of the small pack, 134 pulled it over his face, concealing his already shadowed features. Reaching into his locker a second time, he pulled out an olive drab Kevlar helmet and placed it on his head. Safety first. He smiled to himself inside of his mask.
"Here's the deal," the pilot began, "scheduled pick-up time for your squad is at twelve AM tomorrow. If you're not here by then, than I'm required to leave you. Army's got other plans for this place if things get out of hand." Pausing, he took a breath and continued, "H.U. 119, proceed with the mission."
With that, a short man rose to his feet and barked, "Get ready soldiers, we're going in!" Walking up to the door, he pulled on the handle and ripped the door open. He jumped out and was promptly followed by the rest of the squad. Once everybody had exited, 119 saluted the helicopter pilot. Nodding, the pilot began to take off as the chopper blades whipped up a tremendous amount of noise and wind. Ascending into the sky, it slowly disappeared from view.
"Form up!" 119 cried.
The fourteen other soldiers including 134 shuffled into a single-file line in order of their assigned numbers. 134 was itching with anticipation.
"First thing's first. We're gonna sweep this building to make sure that nothing's in here. Now if you see someone, shoot on sight- us soldiers aren't here to save civilians. We can't risk the spread of the virus by taking in survivors; you'll just be doing the poor bastards a favor by shooting them. Now after we exit the building, you're on your own. You can buddy up with someone, go in a group and if you happened to be bat-fuck insane, you can go on your lonesome; I don't care. But remember that it's your responsibility for your own survival as well as making it here on time tomorrow at twelve. You got that, soldiers?"
"Sir, yes, sir!" they all replied in unison.
"Good."
---
After he placed the clips in his belt, Rocher heard a soft rustling noise in the grass to his right side. Slowly, he brought his gun to eye level while aiming his flashlight in the same direction.
Suddenly, a haggard man entered the Bravo team captain's field of vision. After spotting him, the man threw up his arms and cried out, "Don't shoo-"
Acting quickly, Rocher threw himself upon the man, bringing him to the ground. Before the stranger could cry out, he pressed his hand against the filthy civilian's mouth and hissed, "Unless you want to get us killed, you'd better shut the fuck up before those bastards hear us."
Relaxing, the man loosened his limbs. Obviously displeased at what had just transpired, he said, "Canf yoo get yoor hands ophh of my mooth?"
Sighing, Rocher drew his filthy (and now saliva-soaked) hands away from the stranger's mouth and rolled off the man into a sitting position. Frowning at the stranger, he asked, "What the hell are you doing out here? It's two in the fucking morning."
Whispering, the man said, "Name's Frederick. I'm a photojournalist, so when I heard that there were zombies running around in the woods I came up here to snap some photos... but I got lost, so here I am."
"Well, Frederick. You're coming with me. I'm Rocher from the PRO Sinnoh Division, and it's my responsibility to get you the hell out of here. I've already lost two of my team members to these monsters, and I can tell you that we definitely need to get the hell out of here. Now."
Relief flooding his eyes, Frederick whispered, "Alright, I'm ready to go. You ready?"
Nodding, Rocher began to get up.
SMACK. CRUNCH. The two sounds came in rapid succession. One of the noises seemed to have generated beneath Rocher's feet.
Looking down, the Captain saw a blood-soaked cone shaped piece of bone imbedded about four inches into the dirt. Looking up, he gasped. Whatever had gone through the dirt had apparently went through the journalist as well. A large, circular hole that shone through to the other side was visible right in the middle of Frederick's chest. Thick globs of black blood poured out of the fatal wound as he feebly clawed at his chest. Dying quickly, he vomited copious amounts of blood while teetering weakly on his rapidly failing legs. Frederick then fell to his knees and collapsed on the ground, dead.
For Rocher, those five seconds seemed to last five hours as time nearly stopped from the sudden shock of losing the survivor only minutes after meeting him. Returning to his senses, he spotted a monster in the trees, but this one was different from the others he had seen. It actually appeared... no, it couldn't be... Was that thing actually human?
It's lack of any skin layers matched the appearance of the other monsters he had seen, but some traces of human anatomy could be recognized. The top half of it's body appeared almost unaltered, save for the lack of skin, but the two legs seemed to have melded together to form a sort of "scorpion tail". The head had no features whatsoever, but instead of a human's small horizontal mouth, this thing's mouth stretched from the underside of it's chin to the top of the forehead. It was filled with jagged, bloodstained teeth, similar to most of the other monsters that he had seen. Another barb was loaded at the end of the scorpion monster's tail as he saw it agley snake through the trees with ease.
Turning off his flashlight to make him a more difficult target, Rocher made a quick one-eighty degree turn and ran as fast as he could away from the monster. Forget shooting it. He heard a whizzing through the air as a bone barb sailed past his right shoulder at near impossible speed, impacting the ground hard with a crunch.
He ran, and ran, and ran. Rocher didn't stop for what seemed like a century; the last thing he would let happen was to be killed by one of those mutant bastards.
---
Rose's ears pricked upward as she heard a faint sound of boots impacting soil. Spirits uplifted, she asked, "Do you guys hear that?"
Raising his head, Bobby replied, "Yeah. Do you think it's the captain?"
Flara opened her eyes. It was late and she was tired, and the conversation had woken her up.
"Captain!" Rose yelled out.
The rapid footfalls ceased, and began again, moving quickly in their direction. Before long, a haunted and exhausted Rocher emerged from the thick foliage.
A wide, toothy grin spread across the Zangoose's face as she ran to Rocher and embraced him in a bear hug.
Laughing slightly, he peeled the giddy Pokemon off of him and sank to the ground.
"What happened, Captain?" Flara asked.
Bobby nodded, curious as to what had transpired since he and Rose were separated.
Sighing, Rocher recounted the events from the encounter with the giant to his run-in with the photojournalist, Frederick; not to mention the seemingly human-mutated scorpion monster.
After he finished, Rocher said, "We need to get the hell out of this forest and get back to the city ASAP. This place is swarming with these rotting bastards and if we get to the city, maybe we can contact an emergency evac chopper to get us the hell out of here.
Her face darkening, Flara replied, "But we're the rescuers. There are people and Pokemon alike in the city that need help. If we leave, who's going to help them?"
"That's beyond our power now." Rocher said quietly. "We don't have a choice. Though if we run into anyone, you'll be sure that we'll take them with us."
Flara fell silent.
"What about ammo, Captain?" Bobby asked. "This whole place is swarming with those creeps and if we get attacked by a mob there's no way that we'll make it out."
"If we can make it to HQ, then we'll be good to go. I've got some nasty weapons in the basement safe. After we get those we can radio for help on the third floor. We should get going now."
Pulling out a map, Flara said, "If we can find the main trail, we can get to me and Bobby's house. It's about half a mile from the woods; we can rest up and get some supplies." She looked to Bob for approval. He shook his head yes.
Surprised, Rocher said, "When I was running from that thing, I saw a trail heading uphill. It can't be more than half a mile away."
Clapping her taloned hands together, Flara replied, "Alright, let's go!"
---
H.U. 134 walked down a dark alleyway in the streets of Eterna. He was alone. Pointing his M-16 forward, the railed flashlight attached to the gun lit the narrow alley in a bright, yellow light. So far, he had taken down eleven civilians; he hadn't run into any monsters yet. On the left side of the narrow side street, 134 slowly opened a door to a red brick apartment building and closed the door behind him. All of the lights were out in the complex. Walking over to a light switch, he flipped it. No reaction; the power was off, but something caught his attention.
Down the hallway, a dull light shone from underneath the doorway. Bingo.
As quietly as he could manage, 134 crept down the hallway, cautious not to make any sort of sound. When he reached the door, he quietly slipped off his backpack and withdrew a medium-sized crowbar. Wedging it between the door and the frame he yanked hard, and the door gave way with a loud snap. Moving fast, 134 kicked the door in as he heard somebody cry out from inside.
Inside the room he saw an elderly woman shielding three children and a female Garchomp standing to his right. Many candles lit the room. Before he could move, the Garchomp already had a sharp claw at his jugular. Her left hand was firmly holding the gun's barrel toward the floor.
"What do you think you're doing?" hissed the Pokemon.
"Stop!" 134 cried out. "I'm not going to hurt anybody!"
"Who are you and what do you think you're doing here?" demanded the feminine Garchomp.
"I'm from rescue team twenty-nine sent by the Sinnoh government to extract civilians from the city. There's a lot of crazy shit going on outside. You should come with me... if you want to live."
Still tense, the Garchomp demanded, "Why did you barge in like that? You looked like you were ready to shoot anything that moved."
Shit. This bitch was asking too many questions.
"With all due respect, I don't know what's behind that door, ma'am. For all I know it could be one of those monsters outside or some psychopath with a shotgun ready to fire. Just let me go."
Releasing her hold, she replied, "Fair enough."
Immediately after the Garchomp finished the sentence, 134 twisted his body to her side and delivered a harsh blow to the side of her head with the stock of the M-16. Her vision fading, she saw the number "134" on his arm. The children screamed as their protector fell to the floor, seemingly lifeless.
Horrified, the old woman cried out, "Why are you doing this!? Why!?"
Taking aim with his gun, he replied, "Because ma'am, the government doesn't pay me to let you live." He opened fire on the four prone figures.
After the job was done he went to each body to check for a pulse. All four were dead. Good. Now there was the issue with that Garchomp...
He walked over to the unconscious Pokemon and delivered a harsh kick to her stomach. He'd let the monsters finish this bitch off. 134 stepped over the bodies and out of the room to scour the rest of the building for any remaining survivors.
---
Bobby ran for his life. Flara was sprinting at his side; they were alone. Buildings burned, flames flickering like crimson serpents as echoed cries of agony reverberated off of the concrete walls. A multitude of monsters were pursuing them.
Flara screamed something inaudible. Then she disappeared behind him.
Stopping, Bob looked to his rear and let out a soundless cry of terror.
Flara lay on the ground with a bone jutting out the side of her leg, pouring out large amounts of blood; the Blaziken had tripped over a stray piece of rubble. She screamed in pain. Then the monsters got to her. One slashed open her belly and dug it's head into the body cavity. It's head re-emerged with glistening strands of intestines in it's mouth. Flara continued to scream. Other mutants began pulling out coils of entrails and greedily devouring them. Somehow she was still alive. She locked eyes with Bobby, head rolling from side to side. Her eyes were clouding over. A mutant approached from the front and bit down on the crest on Flara's forehead, fiercely pulling upwards, taking her head with it. Thick eruptions of blood spurted from her ragged neck stump, bathing the concrete street in the crimson liquid. The monster then turned to face Bob, still clenching Flara's decapitated head in it's massive jaws; a small section of spine hung from the head which was still pouring blood.
Bobby couldn't move. All emotion and physical feeling left his body. He felt nothing, like floating through an endless black void. His one true friend was dead, literally tortured and torn to pieces before his very eyes.
All of the monsters then turned to face him. All he could do was stare blankly. Then a female voice spoke, hollow and cruel. Flara's disembodied head began to speak.
"Why didn't you help me Bobby? Don't you care? Were you too afraid to help me? You could have saved me, Bobby..... You could have loved me.
Each word was like a frigid dagger thrust and twisted into his heart. Emotions returned to him in a flood of fear, regret, and most of all, sorrow. Bobby crumpled to his knees and let out a coarse, animalistic scream that made his surroundings shimmer to black. And then, nothing.
---
"Bobby?"
Bobby's eyes slowly cracked open. His head rested on his dining room table. Through blurred vision he saw Rose and Rocher slurping soup when a bowl was placed in front of his field of view.
"Eat up. We're leaving soon, Bobby." He felt a strong hand shake his shoulder. "C'mon kiddo, wake up. You've got to eat."
He slowly raised his head, remembering that the group had finally made it to their home after a long trek. He must have dozed off.
"You ok, Bobby?"
He turned to face Flara. Seeing her face, the memory of the dream came crashing down on his mind like a tidal wave. After thinking for a few moments he replied in a hollow tone, "Yeah, I'm fine."
Flara gave him a warm smile. "That's good to know, Bobby." She wasn't convinced.Chapter End Notes:I tried to polish this chapter up as best as I could, but there may be a mistake here and there, (hopefully there aren't any, but I doubt that) so please tell me if you see any mistakes :3.
Also, even though this chapter's gone through a crapload of editing, I still feel that the final product is slightly unsatisfactory. If you have any tips and such, please, please, please give me some pointers. Thanks for reading :D
Without Mercy
Rocher hid behind a tree in terrified silence, watching the giant eat it's meal. Wet tearing sounds could be heard from the other side of the tree as the Bravo Team captain listened in disgust. The thing occasionally brought it's head down to rip out more chunks of flesh from the felled Jack; wet ribbons of body matter speckled with blue fur were visible between the monster's teeth.
Rocher quietly slid the clip out of his gun to check how many bullets he had spent shooting the thing. Fourteen remained in his clip, and he didn't have any more spare magazines. "Shit." He cursed quietly.
The creature paused for a second, but returned to the ruined corpse immediately after. The grass around Jack was stained crimson red.
Standing rigid, the captain waited for approximately a minute to make sure that it wouldn't try and attack him before silently slipping away into the forest. He had to find the rest of the team.
Wet grass scratched at his combat boots as he walked towards where he believed to be the area where he heard gunshots about an hour earlier. The temperature begun to fall to a damp uncomfortable chill; there was a thin layer of fog that had begun to form throughout the forest, slightly obscuring Rocher's vision.
Before long, he stumbled upon something soft and heavy that nearly caused him to fall over. Whatever had caught his boot made saturated sucking noises when he made an attempt to free his foot. Alarmed, he aimed his flashlight and gun directly downward and saw what had trapped him; he nearly gagged. Around Rocher's boot were the remains of Matt's lower torso that Rose had found earlier. Disgusted, he tore his foot free, taking some bloody strands of intestines with it. A foul stench had begun to permeate throughout the air around the severed body.
"Sorry, Matt." Rocher whispered. Bending over, he detached two magazines that still remained fixed to Matt's belt.
---
High above the ground of the Sinnoh Region, Human Unit (H.U.) 134 gazed out the window of the helicopter he was riding in. Down below the trees and dark fields resembled a rolling black ocean, ready to consume anything that got too close to its waves.
The helicopter he was riding in was one of the newest models- the massive forty-foot chopper was capable of carrying a maximum of about three tons. The interior was painted matte black just like the outside. Two rows of eighteen-foot stainless steel benches lined each wall of the chopper, stopping at the slide-out doors; every foot there was a small locker built into the benches to house mission equipment or personal belongings.
From the info he and the rest of the team had received from the Sinnoh Army Base, they would be landing in Eterna City at approximately two in the morning. Mission specifics were to shoot any person on site. The goal was complete sanitization of the city. Quite a big job to take care of, but at least a hundred more teams of fifteen would be arriving within the hour, all equipped with M-16s and Beretta M-9s. Apparently the whole operation had something to do with the recent outbreak of that freaky-ass disease that supposedly turned Pokemon into monsters.
"ETA for Eterna City: one minute." The helicopter pilot spoke into the chopper's speaker systems. "Don't forget your objective; get in there and wipe 'em all out. We can't let anyone out or into the city perimeter. Teams thirty-nine through eighty-two will set up a quarantined perimeter around the city and teams one through thirty-eight and teams eighty-three through one-hundred-fourteen will begin neutralization of city citizens." Looking out the side window, the pilot said, "Prepare for landing."
Inserting a clip into his M-16, H.U. 134 began to prepare for events to come. Word had it that these monsters or whatever-the-hell-they-were couldn't be killed by bullets. Bullshit. 134 felt a soft bump as the helicopter touched down on an office building. The fourteen other members began to shuffle about and load their guns. Some looked out the windows. Multiple fires could be seen through the small city; occasionally a faint scream would pierce the otherwise quiet night. After a minute or so of silence the pilot's voice crackled over the speaker system.
"Ok, troops. Get your gasmasks on."
All of the soldiers bent over and opened their assigned lockers, each pulling out a small-sized backpack. Inside of the first pouch was a gas mask. Taking it out of the small pack, 134 pulled it over his face, concealing his already shadowed features. Reaching into his locker a second time, he pulled out an olive drab Kevlar helmet and placed it on his head. Safety first. He smiled to himself inside of his mask.
"Here's the deal," the pilot began, "scheduled pick-up time for your squad is at twelve AM tomorrow. If you're not here by then, than I'm required to leave you. Army's got other plans for this place if things get out of hand." Pausing, he took a breath and continued, "H.U. 119, proceed with the mission."
With that, a short man rose to his feet and barked, "Get ready soldiers, we're going in!" Walking up to the door, he pulled on the handle and ripped the door open. He jumped out and was promptly followed by the rest of the squad. Once everybody had exited, 119 saluted the helicopter pilot. Nodding, the pilot began to take off as the chopper blades whipped up a tremendous amount of noise and wind. Ascending into the sky, it slowly disappeared from view.
"Form up!" 119 cried.
The fourteen other soldiers including 134 shuffled into a single-file line in order of their assigned numbers. 134 was itching with anticipation.
"First thing's first. We're gonna sweep this building to make sure that nothing's in here. Now if you see someone, shoot on sight- us soldiers aren't here to save civilians. We can't risk the spread of the virus by taking in survivors; you'll just be doing the poor bastards a favor by shooting them. Now after we exit the building, you're on your own. You can buddy up with someone, go in a group and if you happened to be bat-fuck insane, you can go on your lonesome; I don't care. But remember that it's your responsibility for your own survival as well as making it here on time tomorrow at twelve. You got that, soldiers?"
"Sir, yes, sir!" they all replied in unison.
"Good."
---
After he placed the clips in his belt, Rocher heard a soft rustling noise in the grass to his right side. Slowly, he brought his gun to eye level while aiming his flashlight in the same direction.
Suddenly, a haggard man entered the Bravo team captain's field of vision. After spotting him, the man threw up his arms and cried out, "Don't shoo-"
Acting quickly, Rocher threw himself upon the man, bringing him to the ground. Before the stranger could cry out, he pressed his hand against the filthy civilian's mouth and hissed, "Unless you want to get us killed, you'd better shut the fuck up before those bastards hear us."
Relaxing, the man loosened his limbs. Obviously displeased at what had just transpired, he said, "Canf yoo get yoor hands ophh of my mooth?"
Sighing, Rocher drew his filthy (and now saliva-soaked) hands away from the stranger's mouth and rolled off the man into a sitting position. Frowning at the stranger, he asked, "What the hell are you doing out here? It's two in the fucking morning."
Whispering, the man said, "Name's Frederick. I'm a photojournalist, so when I heard that there were zombies running around in the woods I came up here to snap some photos... but I got lost, so here I am."
"Well, Frederick. You're coming with me. I'm Rocher from the PRO Sinnoh Division, and it's my responsibility to get you the hell out of here. I've already lost two of my team members to these monsters, and I can tell you that we definitely need to get the hell out of here. Now."
Relief flooding his eyes, Frederick whispered, "Alright, I'm ready to go. You ready?"
Nodding, Rocher began to get up.
SMACK. CRUNCH. The two sounds came in rapid succession. One of the noises seemed to have generated beneath Rocher's feet.
Looking down, the Captain saw a blood-soaked cone shaped piece of bone imbedded about four inches into the dirt. Looking up, he gasped. Whatever had gone through the dirt had apparently went through the journalist as well. A large, circular hole that shone through to the other side was visible right in the middle of Frederick's chest. Thick globs of black blood poured out of the fatal wound as he feebly clawed at his chest. Dying quickly, he vomited copious amounts of blood while teetering weakly on his rapidly failing legs. Frederick then fell to his knees and collapsed on the ground, dead.
For Rocher, those five seconds seemed to last five hours as time nearly stopped from the sudden shock of losing the survivor only minutes after meeting him. Returning to his senses, he spotted a monster in the trees, but this one was different from the others he had seen. It actually appeared... no, it couldn't be... Was that thing actually human?
It's lack of any skin layers matched the appearance of the other monsters he had seen, but some traces of human anatomy could be recognized. The top half of it's body appeared almost unaltered, save for the lack of skin, but the two legs seemed to have melded together to form a sort of "scorpion tail". The head had no features whatsoever, but instead of a human's small horizontal mouth, this thing's mouth stretched from the underside of it's chin to the top of the forehead. It was filled with jagged, bloodstained teeth, similar to most of the other monsters that he had seen. Another barb was loaded at the end of the scorpion monster's tail as he saw it agley snake through the trees with ease.
Turning off his flashlight to make him a more difficult target, Rocher made a quick one-eighty degree turn and ran as fast as he could away from the monster. Forget shooting it. He heard a whizzing through the air as a bone barb sailed past his right shoulder at near impossible speed, impacting the ground hard with a crunch.
He ran, and ran, and ran. Rocher didn't stop for what seemed like a century; the last thing he would let happen was to be killed by one of those mutant bastards.
---
Rose's ears pricked upward as she heard a faint sound of boots impacting soil. Spirits uplifted, she asked, "Do you guys hear that?"
Raising his head, Bobby replied, "Yeah. Do you think it's the captain?"
Flara opened her eyes. It was late and she was tired, and the conversation had woken her up.
"Captain!" Rose yelled out.
The rapid footfalls ceased, and began again, moving quickly in their direction. Before long, a haunted and exhausted Rocher emerged from the thick foliage.
A wide, toothy grin spread across the Zangoose's face as she ran to Rocher and embraced him in a bear hug.
Laughing slightly, he peeled the giddy Pokemon off of him and sank to the ground.
"What happened, Captain?" Flara asked.
Bobby nodded, curious as to what had transpired since he and Rose were separated.
Sighing, Rocher recounted the events from the encounter with the giant to his run-in with the photojournalist, Frederick; not to mention the seemingly human-mutated scorpion monster.
After he finished, Rocher said, "We need to get the hell out of this forest and get back to the city ASAP. This place is swarming with these rotting bastards and if we get to the city, maybe we can contact an emergency evac chopper to get us the hell out of here.
Her face darkening, Flara replied, "But we're the rescuers. There are people and Pokemon alike in the city that need help. If we leave, who's going to help them?"
"That's beyond our power now." Rocher said quietly. "We don't have a choice. Though if we run into anyone, you'll be sure that we'll take them with us."
Flara fell silent.
"What about ammo, Captain?" Bobby asked. "This whole place is swarming with those creeps and if we get attacked by a mob there's no way that we'll make it out."
"If we can make it to HQ, then we'll be good to go. I've got some nasty weapons in the basement safe. After we get those we can radio for help on the third floor. We should get going now."
Pulling out a map, Flara said, "If we can find the main trail, we can get to me and Bobby's house. It's about half a mile from the woods; we can rest up and get some supplies." She looked to Bob for approval. He shook his head yes.
Surprised, Rocher said, "When I was running from that thing, I saw a trail heading uphill. It can't be more than half a mile away."
Clapping her taloned hands together, Flara replied, "Alright, let's go!"
---
H.U. 134 walked down a dark alleyway in the streets of Eterna. He was alone. Pointing his M-16 forward, the railed flashlight attached to the gun lit the narrow alley in a bright, yellow light. So far, he had taken down eleven civilians; he hadn't run into any monsters yet. On the left side of the narrow side street, 134 slowly opened a door to a red brick apartment building and closed the door behind him. All of the lights were out in the complex. Walking over to a light switch, he flipped it. No reaction; the power was off, but something caught his attention.
Down the hallway, a dull light shone from underneath the doorway. Bingo.
As quietly as he could manage, 134 crept down the hallway, cautious not to make any sort of sound. When he reached the door, he quietly slipped off his backpack and withdrew a medium-sized crowbar. Wedging it between the door and the frame he yanked hard, and the door gave way with a loud snap. Moving fast, 134 kicked the door in as he heard somebody cry out from inside.
Inside the room he saw an elderly woman shielding three children and a female Garchomp standing to his right. Many candles lit the room. Before he could move, the Garchomp already had a sharp claw at his jugular. Her left hand was firmly holding the gun's barrel toward the floor.
"What do you think you're doing?" hissed the Pokemon.
"Stop!" 134 cried out. "I'm not going to hurt anybody!"
"Who are you and what do you think you're doing here?" demanded the feminine Garchomp.
"I'm from rescue team twenty-nine sent by the Sinnoh government to extract civilians from the city. There's a lot of crazy shit going on outside. You should come with me... if you want to live."
Still tense, the Garchomp demanded, "Why did you barge in like that? You looked like you were ready to shoot anything that moved."
Shit. This bitch was asking too many questions.
"With all due respect, I don't know what's behind that door, ma'am. For all I know it could be one of those monsters outside or some psychopath with a shotgun ready to fire. Just let me go."
Releasing her hold, she replied, "Fair enough."
Immediately after the Garchomp finished the sentence, 134 twisted his body to her side and delivered a harsh blow to the side of her head with the stock of the M-16. Her vision fading, she saw the number "134" on his arm. The children screamed as their protector fell to the floor, seemingly lifeless.
Horrified, the old woman cried out, "Why are you doing this!? Why!?"
Taking aim with his gun, he replied, "Because ma'am, the government doesn't pay me to let you live." He opened fire on the four prone figures.
After the job was done he went to each body to check for a pulse. All four were dead. Good. Now there was the issue with that Garchomp...
He walked over to the unconscious Pokemon and delivered a harsh kick to her stomach. He'd let the monsters finish this bitch off. 134 stepped over the bodies and out of the room to scour the rest of the building for any remaining survivors.
---
Bobby ran for his life. Flara was sprinting at his side; they were alone. Buildings burned, flames flickering like crimson serpents as echoed cries of agony reverberated off of the concrete walls. A multitude of monsters were pursuing them.
Flara screamed something inaudible. Then she disappeared behind him.
Stopping, Bob looked to his rear and let out a soundless cry of terror.
Flara lay on the ground with a bone jutting out the side of her leg, pouring out large amounts of blood; the Blaziken had tripped over a stray piece of rubble. She screamed in pain. Then the monsters got to her. One slashed open her belly and dug it's head into the body cavity. It's head re-emerged with glistening strands of intestines in it's mouth. Flara continued to scream. Other mutants began pulling out coils of entrails and greedily devouring them. Somehow she was still alive. She locked eyes with Bobby, head rolling from side to side. Her eyes were clouding over. A mutant approached from the front and bit down on the crest on Flara's forehead, fiercely pulling upwards, taking her head with it. Thick eruptions of blood spurted from her ragged neck stump, bathing the concrete street in the crimson liquid. The monster then turned to face Bob, still clenching Flara's decapitated head in it's massive jaws; a small section of spine hung from the head which was still pouring blood.
Bobby couldn't move. All emotion and physical feeling left his body. He felt nothing, like floating through an endless black void. His one true friend was dead, literally tortured and torn to pieces before his very eyes.
All of the monsters then turned to face him. All he could do was stare blankly. Then a female voice spoke, hollow and cruel. Flara's disembodied head began to speak.
"Why didn't you help me Bobby? Don't you care? Were you too afraid to help me? You could have saved me, Bobby..... You could have loved me.
Each word was like a frigid dagger thrust and twisted into his heart. Emotions returned to him in a flood of fear, regret, and most of all, sorrow. Bobby crumpled to his knees and let out a coarse, animalistic scream that made his surroundings shimmer to black. And then, nothing.
---
"Bobby?"
Bobby's eyes slowly cracked open. His head rested on his dining room table. Through blurred vision he saw Rose and Rocher slurping soup when a bowl was placed in front of his field of view.
"Eat up. We're leaving soon, Bobby." He felt a strong hand shake his shoulder. "C'mon kiddo, wake up. You've got to eat."
He slowly raised his head, remembering that the group had finally made it to their home after a long trek. He must have dozed off.
"You ok, Bobby?"
He turned to face Flara. Seeing her face, the memory of the dream came crashing down on his mind like a tidal wave. After thinking for a few moments he replied in a hollow tone, "Yeah, I'm fine."
Flara gave him a warm smile. "That's good to know, Bobby." She wasn't convinced.Chapter End Notes:I tried to polish this chapter up as best as I could, but there may be a mistake here and there, (hopefully there aren't any, but I doubt that) so please tell me if you see any mistakes :3.
Also, even though this chapter's gone through a crapload of editing, I still feel that the final product is slightly unsatisfactory. If you have any tips and such, please, please, please give me some pointers. Thanks for reading :D