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Acolytes of the Apocalypse

Written and published by: PivotRedAce

Special Formatting Information:

'Character thought' (Not projected to other characters.)

'Character thought' (Projected to other characters.)

(Pokémon speech.)

“Character Dialogue"

Prologue: Part I – “The Manipulator"

S heets of rain pelted the ground below relentlessly; the void of the night sky brimming of light with each bolt of lightning. The resulting thunder echoed across a valley overshadowed by massive mountains, rivaled only by steel towers dotted with lights that soared into the void. Verdant forests obscured the base of the city and extended far into the horizon.

Within the metropolis, fewer inhabitants occupied the streets as the night grew older and the turbulent weather continued to intensify. Behind the façade of immaculate steel towers was a decrepit and neglected ghetto which ate at the city from the inside. Broken glass and forgotten junk littered the streets and the few working street lights threatened to fade as their light flickered. Boarded up windows and potholes completed the dreary scenery.

A lonely silhouette casually leaned against a street lamp; the pale-yellow glow magnifying the tan color of its trench coat. With a flick of a ghostly wrist, it uncovered a faux gold time-piece. The human's mouth curled into a frown as it gazed intently at the cracked surface of the clock.

“Thirty minutes late; how wonderful." It grumbled with a voice made of gravel. The human adjusted his position against the aged wooden pole and returned the time-piece into a pocket in his trench coat. The downpour of rain slowly began to lighten, not that he cared. He was already soaked from the fedora on his head, to ebony shoes polished to perfection on his feet. Absentmindedly, the human grabbed a lighter and pack of cigarettes from the pockets of his slate gray dress-pants. He carefully opened the small carboard box, fished one out, and lit it up as he stuck the cigarette in his mouth. As the human took a puff, he glanced around his surroundings and silently hoped the courier would arrive soon.

As the rain continued to lighten to a sprinkle, the sounds of the city in the distance became audible once again. The distant honking of horns, squeaking of breaks, and tires against asphalt were an oddly satisfying respite from the relentless white noise of water pelting every nearby surface. The human sighed as he straightened from his leaning position on the pole, adjusted the hat that sat on his matted blonde hair, and took another puff of the cigarette between his gloved fingers.

The human grew more irritated as he continued to wait. With a flick of his thumb, the still lit cigarette tumbled toward the ground and landed in a puddle; extinguishing itself in the process.

“Waiting forty minutes for product I paid good money for, and still no sign of the courier," He turned to face toward a nearby alleyway and glared into the darkness. “For their sake they better have a good excuse." He mumbled to no one in particular.

As if on cue, repeated scraping of claws against metal reached his ears from above. He quickly snapped his gaze to the rooftops above him; just barely in time to capture a flurry of movement accompanying the footsteps. Caught by surprise, the human reflexively grasped at the chrome-plated revolver holstered against his hip. He wasn't sure if this was the courier or an actual threat, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

Suddenly, a sound akin to a pillow hitting cement emanated from behind him. The human spun around and quickly drew his revolver from the holster at his waist. He squinted his eyes and aimed toward a dark alleyway as he tried to make out any semblance of movement. Something that was proving to be nearly impossible due to the lack of light.

“Show yourself, or I will fire! I can spare the expense on a few wasted bullets!" He called out to the darkness.

No response.

The human could feel his heart beat rapidly and his breathing quicken. Anxiety from impending danger began to take hold.

“This is your last warning. Show yourself, now!" Any signs of discipline left him as he failed to catch his index finger lightly squeezing the trigger out of fear.

Suddenly, an amalgamation of movement in the shadows became visible. Turning from a blob of darkness into the slim silhouette of a biped-like creature as it approached. Claws clacked against the pavement with every slow and methodical step.

The human regained his composure slightly; realizing that not being attacked yet is a sign it could be the courier he had been waiting for. For now, he kept the revolver steady but allowed his index finger to rest against the side of the trigger guard. Not fully wanting to let his guard down just yet.

The clacking of claws on the pavement continued as pertinent features of the creature became visible. A headdress full of feathers adorned its head, and golden irises stared back at him with an unsettling intensity. The human slowly lowered the revolver once he noticed the creature matched the description he was given of the courier.

“You're almost an hour late. Very professional." The human chided.

At last, the Pokémon revealed itself from the shadows as light lit up its slender form. The golden feathers of its headdress shone brightly in the light, and pink fur that covered its body served as dramatic contrast. Razor sharp claws adorned its arms and legs, and a gem in the center of its forehead shined even more brilliantly than its feathers.

The shiny Weavile stopped approaching a mere few feet away from the human; crossing its arms as it replied.

“I apologize for being late, but you should know that the nature of this business isn't professional by any means." A tan rectangular device that hung around the Weavile's neck replied in a robotic, yet feminine sounding voice.

The human tsk'ed at the Weavile that barely reached half his height. “Now, now. That's not how you should be treating your clientele." He taunted as he returned the revolver back to its holster.

The Weavile simply raised a brow; briefly giving him an 'Are you serious?' look.

“Whatever, just hand over the product." The human blurted out as he held out an open palm expectantly.

Without missing a beat, the Pokémon opened the flap of the fabric knapsack it was carrying over one shoulder and reached into it. Grabbing hold of a plastic-wrapped brick of a frozen substance between its claws.

“Your name is Victor, correct?" The device belonging to the Weavile casually asked.

Victor acted as if he was taken aback for a moment, “Do you not know the details of your own delivery?" He questioned sarcastically.

“Do you not know that you need to pay for the product?" The Weavile fired back at him as she glanced at his outstretched hand; her claw still inside the knapsack.

A moment of silence followed with Victor glancing at his hand and then back at the Weavile. A slight grin suddenly crept across his face.

Feigning a look of shame, Victor retracted his arm and began to reach for his pocket. Slowly closing the distance between him and the Weavile as he did so. “You know what? You're absolutely right." He replied, barely masking his intentions.

The Weavile picked up on what he was trying to do, and quickly closed the knapsack. Already backing away to attempt making a break for it.

However, just as she was able to turn around, it was too late.

She heard the click of a hammer being pulled back on a handgun from behind. Turning back to face him, the Weavile found herself staring down the barrel of a .45.

“Just where are my manners?" Victor questioned as the grin crew into a maniacal smile. A chuckle escaped his lips as he took in the look of surprise from the Pokémon in front of him. He continued his approach and gently pressed the cold and wet barrel of the revolver against the Weavile's throat, who visibly flinched as it touched her skin.

Victor leaned in; his ice-cold stare bearing down on her from just a few inches away, “Now, why would I pay for something that I can just take?"

The Pokémon audibly gulped at his words. Around them, the air became incredibly tense; both caught in a silent battle of defiance against the other. The ambient sounds of the nearby metropolis reverberated through the numerous alleys. Leftover droplets of water fell from the rooftops and onto the ground, one of which splashed against the Weavile's headdress and resolved in a subtle *plink* as it hit the soft surface of her feathers.

It was then that a flash of realization washed over Victor, who pulled away both himself and the revolver in his hand. While still aiming the weapon in her direction, he partially turned away from her and glanced up at the sky. Seemingly thinking to himself.

“You know, I didn't catch your name." He remarked with feigned guilt and reaffirmed his gaze at the Pokémon in question.

Not knowing what else to do in this situation, the Weavile bared her teeth at him menacingly. The voice emanating from the device around its neck poorly matching her expression, “You don't deserve to know."

A moment of silence ensued, until maniacal laughter echoed through the alleyway as Victor lost his composure. The Pokémon became increasingly angry but couldn't do anything with a revolver still aimed at her head. As Victor calmed down, he glared at the Weavile with a wild look in his eyes.

“Oh, I think I do." He said as he snickered, “I was the one who was on time, after all. It's the least you could offer me."

With a defeated sigh, the Weavile glanced to side with a look of indignation. Proceeding to mumble something in her own language that Victor couldn't hear.

Victor tsk'ed the Weavile again while subtly shaking his head, “You're going to have to speak up, sweetheart."

Fuming, the Pokémon stared directly at him and repeated herself. “Siren." She spoke in her language through gritted teeth and the device around her neck at the same time.

Seemingly satisfied, Victor raised the revolver from the Weavile's face and casually pointed it toward the sky. “Okay, Siren." He began in a tone laced with venom, “I believe we've gotten off on a bumpy start." He spoke while gesturing with the arm that held the weapon. “So, let's just end this amicably and find a resolution that satisfies both of us, hm?"

Siren narrowed her eyes. “I didn't come here to negotiate, Victor. Both of us are here for what was supposed to be a simple exchange. In fact- “

“Uhp, uhp, uhp, uhp!" Victor interrupted, “That's all in the past now. You know, you're incredibly lucky that I'm such a forgiving person." He mocked in a condescending tone.

“However, even though I forgive you, I still think you should apologize for your mistakes by handing over that knapsack. I'll even be generous enough to let you leave alive!" Victor exclaimed with feigned excitement.

Grumbling with fury, Siren clacked her claws together menacingly. “Over my dead body!" In her mind, she meant that literally. Forced to be a drug courier, her very life hinged on successfully delivering any product she was given. Defending it until her last dying breath was the only option, or at least she figured was much better than the alternative.

Victor chuckled sardonically, “Well, if you insist!"

Siren's eyes widened as Victor quickly lowered the revolver to her face. Reacting as quickly as she could, she managed to knock his arm away with a deft claw. Reflexively, Victor fired the revolver as his arm was knocked away and caused the firearm to slip from his hands. A forceful kick connected with his gut, which knocked him backwards with a stumble.

Ears ringing and dazed by the sound of the revolver firing next to her ear, Siren attempted to make an escape by scaling the brick walls behind her that she dropped down from. Just as she leaped to gain a foothold on the wall with her claws a brutal punch connected with the side of her head.

Yelping in pain, Siren fell from the wall with the knapsack slipping from her shoulder and tumbling onto the ground beside her. For a few moments, shadows danced in her field of vision and the muffled sound of footsteps on concrete reached her ears.

A muffled voice resounded triumphantly with words she couldn't understand. With more footsteps rapidly fading into the distance shortly after.

As Siren recovered from her dazed state, she slowly sat up with a metallic taste coating her tongue. Spitting blood onto the decaying cement below, she looked around to try and focus her vision; quickly realizing the knapsack was missing and Victor nowhere to be found.

“That bastard," She thought to herself while she leaped to her feet, almost losing balance in the process. Siren rushed to the entrance of the alleyway and saw him running down the street and into another passage. She feared of what would happen if her masters knew that she let herself get mugged.

Fortunately, Siren knew the layout of this part of the city very well, and if Victor didn't hop fences or try to escape through the sewers, she could intercept him easily. Briefly looking around and coming up with a route to follow, she suppressed her fears and steeled herself for the pursuit ahead of her.