POKEVENTURE -- Round One

POKEVENTURE Round One
Frumgaar enters the Rocket Hideout

It had been a long day. A very long day. Long and futile at that; the supposed 'breakthrough discovery' had been nothing more than a speck of leaf caught in a recent sample of amber. It broke the monotony of the day, but had still been a fruitless chase that had lasted far too long for the scientists' tastes.

It was now very late in the evening, and the man had been typing away at his computer so diligently he hadn't bothered to turn on the lamp only inches from his keyboard. Illuminated only by his monitor, he continued to play his fingers across his keyboard, pausing only to readjust his glasses on his nose. His eyes were tired from the day's work, but he only had a few more paragraphs that needed to move from his head onto the document on his computer. Then he'd pack up and head home to his wife. Just a few more lines and he'd be done.

He was momentarily distracted by a soft crunching outside. He tilted his head to get a better listen.

A truck? he thought. Who's driving a truck around here? I haven't noticed any houses for sale, and I can't think of any other reason you'd –

The sound stopped, accompanied by a gentle screech of brakes. It sounded as if it were directly outside the laboratory, which confused the scientist. They hadn't ordered anything that couldn't be delivered by air, so what could a truck be doing so close?

Being the only one still left in the lab, he pushed back from his desk and stood, once again adjusting his glasses. To turn away from the monitor was to turn away from all light, as dusk had fallen heavily during his time at the desk. He blinked at the darkness and fumbled for a nearby lightswitch which, upon being tossed, nearly blinded the man. He swore at himself and yanked his glasses off before angrily rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to clear the spots that drowned out his vision.

Footsteps. Louder, to the front door of the museum; he could hear much better than he could see at the moment. He shaded his eyes and turned to where he knew the door to be.

The rats never even bothered knocking.

A muffled voice from behind the door was the only signal the scientist had to get away before it literally blew open. Splinters and bits of the moulding flew into the room as the door crashed off its hinges and, in the dust that followed, a score of dark-clothed individuals and their minions flooded the building.

The scientist staggered backwards, shading his face from the debris more than the light and holding his other hand up defensively, stumbling away from the onslaught.

"Don't even try to talk. One word and we pump you full of poison," a cool voice said, rising above the screeches and excited howls of the creatures that now occupied the room. "We ain't gonna steal anything, and we don't want to hurt you…unless we have to, to get what we want. Got your attention yet?"

The scientist peered out from beneath the shelter of his arm to seek out whoever had spoken and saw who he presumed to be the leader of the group. A tall man, smirking, with unusually long and prematurely white hair tied back. He grinned upon meeting the scientists' eyes and tossed something back and forth between his hands, as if to amuse himself. A large snake coiled around his legs, flicking its tongue and leering at the scientist; it didn't appear as if it were trying to be threatening, somehow, and seemed more as if it were analyzing the environment.

The white haired man placed a hand on the cobra's head, which led to the end of his idle tossing of what were now clearly seen as a pair of dice, held in his right hand. "I think we've got his attention, boys. Let's haul the goods in, shall we?"

"What is it you want," the scientist said sharply, more angry about being disturbed than he was afraid.

The other dark-clad trainers had filtered out through the doorframe, which now allowed a chill night breeze to sift through the room. Their leader placed a hand on his hip and patted the cobra again.

"You'll see."

---

He knew he should have been furious about what had been proposed to him, but the sight of all that historical treasure before him made him giddy. Gnawing at his lip, he tore his gaze away from the boxes upon boxes of fossils and looked at the white-haired man and his scarred cobra.

"You … you want me to revive…all of these fossilized Pokemon?" he asked slowly.

A curt nod was his reply, which turned into a gesture indicating the door. "We've got cages loaded up in the truck outside. Can't ball 'em yet, since we don't know what's in 'em or who's going to who. But we'll take care of the loading as long as you take care of the reviving. Clear?"

"…Crystal," the scientist murmured. He stared for a moment longer before reaching into the closest box to himself, drawing out a pristine example of a leg bone. Slowly, he turned and walked towards the machine mounted on the back wall.

It'd be a while before he got home. Maybe he'd ask if he could give his wife a call.

---

Everything went smoothly, routinely, and utterly boringly. The uniformed men lounged around the interior of the museum, stared at the same exhibits for the fifth time, tossed red and white capsules back and forth in a lazy game of catch. Occasionally one would be instructed to grab a cage from the truck parked outside and store the confused and blinking reborn fossils away, but there was a good ten minutes between each of these instances, and it required little manpower.

The scientist blinked sleepily. It was well past his preferred bedtime at this point, and he was getting lazy with the fossils. He pressed one into the machine almost automatically and connected the proper nodes, adjusted the levels of chemical and nutrient as per protocol, and sighed when he pressed the startup button. The machine hummed to life again and the familiar sight of amber colored liquid flooding the chamber let him know he could turn away and focus blankly on the sight around him. He was being mugged, in a way, though the criminals were providing their own loot. It was late, he was tired, he couldn't be bothered to think straight any more.

The only man who was still truly attentive was the white haired one, who stood with his arms crossed in front of the reviving machine, watching the liquid shift with a focused and sharp gaze. He seemed to be quite interested in the resulting creatures, muttering to himself predictions of what they might wind up being upon recreation. He smirked when he guessed correctly and scowled when he didn't, making the scientist think he was playing some sort of game with himself.

For being mugged, this wasn't as exciting as it was in the movies. The scientist rubbed at his tired eyes and the spot on either side of his nose where his glasses had been resting for so long. Boring was tiring, and he was already tired…maybe they wouldn't mind if he napped between –

The atmosphere changed. Instantly.

The white haired man stood straighter. The snake blinked in mild surprise. The nearest henchmen stared in amazement. "Get a cage," the leader said. "Go."

A few men stood to leave, bumping into each other as they hustled out the doorway.

"I do believe we just hit the jackpot."

---

The sand blowing over the plain had always been harsh and comforting. It inflicted tiny wounds that became scars, icons of power and endurance. It acted as cover, blinding foes and creating a gauntlet only those worthy of its burden could pass.

Where was it now? There was only lukewarm nothingness. It wasn't what he remembered.

The sound of heavy footfalls had always been frightening and empowering. The knowledge that friends and family were always within earshot gave one courage.

Where were they now? There was only muffled silence. It wasn't at all what he remembered. What was …this? What was everything around him now? It wasn't like this when…

…when he'd died.

He had died, and now where was he? In silent lukewarm nothingness. It had taken an eternity to reach this place, but the only memories he had were from thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years prior. Between then and now was nothing. However, it was considerably less lukewarm and moist.

Lost in his own thoughts, the foreign creature, an undead from an eternity ago, was released from his containment of lukewarm nothingness and tossed into a realm of frigid air and sharp, unfriendly sound. He was thrown into darkness and surrounded by the fear of those like him an instant later and carted away in the belly of some beast the likes of which he'd never seen. It rumbled and growled continuously, rattled his confinement until it rolled to a hault.

He was removed from it and transported from one form of darkness to another, the only signals that he was not in the same area being smells and sounds. His mind was blank, overworked with confusion, until he finally came to a rest in some dank and dark place that roiled with frightened and angry cries. Unusual, tall figures surrounded him, and he realized that something was being fastened around his neck. He was then replaced in his unnaturally formed container and shoved into a back corner of the equally unnatural environment he was now trapped in.

Quietly, he hunched up in the corner of his containment and thought until weariness overtook him, and the darkness around him faded into the darkness behind his own eyelids.

End Round 1