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Creative Writing Share your fan fiction, stories, poems, essays, editorials, song lyrics, or any other related written work. All written must be your creation. Start a new thread, and keep replying to that thread as you add on more chapters. Anyone can join in at anytime.


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  #61  
Old 03-19-2010, 03:56 AM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 6 is up for reading!)

Mark Antony clamped his mouth shut as an electric-blue aura rolled up and down his body. Celebi picked him up into the air with one angered thought. She snarled, her beautiful features contorted into an infuriated mess. The Johto Legend watched him like a bird of prey, waiting for him to utter one more insult about Mew so that she had enough of an excuse to obliterate his soul from the from face of all three worlds.

“Let him be your assistant then.”

Death, Celebi, and Mark Antony turned to Mew. The feline’s brow was twitching in annoyance, and his tail slashed the air with audible snaps. “Let this poor excuse of a soul rule Purgatory alongside you. Let him forever endure a life of hard labor, death, despair, and starless skies. His soul reflects that desolate world of yours perfectly. Obliteration is too much mercy for the likes of him.

“Mark Antony Colfax,” Mew continued, expecting Mark Antony’s silver eyes and the growing glimmer of fear he could see within them. “By putting you in Death’s hands, humanity will forever be rid of a plague like you. Nevermore will they be scourged by your existence.”

The soul was dropped to the floor with a grunt from the time traveler.

“That settles it then,” Mew announced with a clap of his paws, his smile toxic. “Now leave, Death. I’m sure your duties don’t allow for more conversation. Besides, more pressing matters are to be attended here before Arceus returns.”

Mark Antony picked himself up and turned his back on the proud Mew and murderous Celebi. “Get me a freaking scarf or something already,” he muttered to Death with chattering teeth. “You, this place, and those gods over there are going to send me into shock soon.”

“I’ll file a complaint,” Death laughed, which caused his charge to do a double take. Mark Antony sighed; he was just reminded of Edward’s short chuckles. The corporal had been the only one who could get away with laughing at him in such a teasing manner.

Noticing the past tense in his thoughts, the auburn-haired man closed his eyes and shook his head. He and Death were then engulfed in a cloud of smoke and luminous emerald flames. When nothing of them remained, Mew and Celebi flew towards the top of one of the pillars.

“What will we do with you?” Mew addressed the pillar’s top.

Jirachi’s body materialized on the platform. Brother and sister looked at each other, nodded, and put their hands out above the cold corpse. It started glowing white, and the aura then fluctuated between jade and rose pink. Little by little, Mew and Celebi were erasing any trace that their powers were Jirachi’s undoing.

_____

Death and Mark Antony appeared inside the tallest tower in Purgatory. Mark Antony blinked at the bleakness, wondering if the surroundings would forever change in intensity. Massaging his eyes, he leaned back and almost fell through the window that overlooked the small village below. Taking a peek behind him, Mark Antony bit his lip and edged away, settling for clasping his hands behind him and watching as Death wandered deeper into the room.

“Here.”

From the darkness came flying something long and thin. With honed reflexes, Mark Antony reached out and caught the ebony handle. He winced slightly; whatever he had caught sent a paralyzing shiver down his spine. Once he shook away most of the chills, he inspected the scythe with morbid interest. He traced the three-foot blade that curved in an arc with a finger that didn’t bleed and then probed the ivory skull at the tip with an inquisitive, platinum gaze. The dark orb nestled inside stared back from behind the empty eye sockets.

“What’s t-this?” he asked, though he was already piecing two and two together. The slight stutter was a result of the chill that had escalated from his hands to his jaw.

“That’s your instrument now. Instead of taking lives, you’ll be guarding them.” Ignoring Mark Antony’s perplexed look, Death then said with a smirk intertwined in his words, “And you need a new uniform. You no longer take sides. You will protect every life I assign you equally.”

The soul opened his mouth to protest, but the words were whisked away by the smoke that suddenly soared around him. It was gone before he realized that his body, or soul, rather, no longer needed to cough. Waving away the puffs of smoke, Mark Antony stepped back and examine himself with distaste. What had been left of his Johto uniform was replaced with an ash-gray, swallow-tailed coat that was buttoned over his vest and dress pants of an inky black. His boots blended in with the gray stones at his feet, no matter which way he turned. The only thing of his ensemble that didn’t seem grim was the brown leather shoulder strap that went across his chest and over his back. A feel behind him told him there was a sheath of some kind to insert his newly-obtained scythe.

There was one other thing he noticed about his uniform.

“Do you find this amusing?” Mark Antony dully asked with a tug at the olive-green scarf that was wrapped around his neck and tied by a golden clip.

“Do you find that warm?” the Dusknoir countered with a nod to the scarf.

Mark Antony only grunted because he was, in fact, free from his shivers.

“The scarf allows your soul to ignore my aura and the scythe’s.”

“Okay, but why the outfit?”

Death shrugged. “With these clothes, you show no allegiance to a region or group of people. You are simply a servant of Death, a guardian angel that protects every life assigned to you with no prejudice or bias.”

“Yeah, that,” Mark Antony stopped him. Slamming the butt of the scythe’s handle down, he leaned on it and glared. “I thought I was going to help you gather souls like me and bring them here. Isn’t that what you do, what you want me to use this scythe for?”

The ghoul met his glare with a serious, leveled gaze. “I and my Dusclops guards can handle bringing the souls here. However, there are humans on Earth who are not ready to die. As tame as space and time are, as carefully watched as the time stream is, there are those who die before their time. Why? Not even the gods fully understand the universe. This is why I need an assistant that can watch over these humans and protect them until the danger has passed. I need someone with good judgment, courage, and wit.”

“Is it really necessary to put so much effort into saving a handful of people?” the new assistant asked, not totally convinced.

“Not doing so will cause unforeseen futures. Their futures might potentially conflict with someone else’s, causing rips in time.” Death inwardly smiled when Mark Antony’s already pale face morphed into a fearful expression.

“And I’m supposed to prevent this?” he asked skeptically.

“You did prevent Jirachi’s death, after all.”

Mark Antony’s raised eyebrows snapped down to form a suspicious glare. “How do you know about that?”

Death put a massive hand up to calm him. “The moment Jirachi fell to Earth, I began to keep an eye on her, though I should have done so immediately after our conversation.” There were undertones of guilt in his words. “That’s when I noticed you and your potential.”

The soul absently nodded, his eyes troubled and his mind too preoccupied to ask what Jirachi had been doing in Purgatory. As much as he disliked showing he was unsure on something, he asked, “Did I really save Jirachi?”

Death mentally frowned and decided to word his words carefully. “By hiding herself inside a human, she’ll be able to regain her power over time. How long that will take, only Jirachi knows. Now,” he announced loudly when he saw Mark Antony was losing focus, “training starts now.”

“Training?” Mark Antony exclaimed, his solemn stature replaced by his usual stubborn self. He eyed the collecting slivers of smoke in Death’s hand with a frown. “You haven’t fully explained what I’m supposed to do.”

The Dusknoir gave his newly-created scythe an experimental swing. “Then we should get started, shouldn’t we?”

“Right,” was the miffed response he got. Mark Antony straightened and took hold of his scythe; Death floated over and righted his own.

Before the phantom could begin speaking, however, Mark Antony whirled towards him, remembering one of his questions from before. “I have to ask, though. How can I understand what you Pokémon are saying?”

Death gave him a look equivalent to a raised eyebrow but answered all the same. “Souls are more attuned to other souls and their auras. The Legendary Pokémon and ethereal beings such as myself and my Dusclops guards have auras that are easily read by souls due to their sheer power. That is why you can understand us.”

“What about normal Pokémon?”

Death tilted his head in thought. “Though I’ve never witnessed this myself, I would assume a soul could understand a Pokémon better than a human. However, it would not be enough to understand their every word.”

Mark Antony cocked his own head. “Interesting,” he trailed off with furrowed brows.

“Can we start now?” interrupted the grim reaper.

Silver eyes were raised, and Mark Antony straightened. “Yes, we can start.”

Death gave him the same look as before and continued.

“To protect the humans you are assigned to, you’re going to temporarily take the soul of a Pokémon with your scythe and store it in the orb inside the skull.” Death touched the macabre object on his scythe, and Mark Antony did the same with his own. “You then inhabit the Pokémon’s body and use its skills to protect the human.”

Fingers were retracted from the skull in surprise. “I’m going to become a Pokémon?!”

“In a way,” Death admitted, the face on his stomach grinning from ear to metaphorical ear. “After your mission is done, I’ll retrieve you and return the Pokémon’s soul into its body. If done correctly, the soul will suffer no ill-effects.”

“Do I have to utter some sort of incantation or something?” Mark Antony guessed.

“No, nothing that complicated,” Death said with a shake of his head. “Your scythe will know how to extract and store the soul. All you have to do is create the perfect opening for the soul to escape the body without harming either one. You cannot falter or be unsure.”

“Sounds just like the army,” the student mused with a melancholy smirk. Automatically, he gripped the scythe tighter and slipped into a fighting stance his father had drilled into him since he was four; the scythe was the worn staff his father had forced into his hands.

The pitter-patter of feet made him look into the darkness of the room. Mark Antony saw big sapphire eyes staring into his own before the Pokémon’s ruby body emerged into the light. The Ledian cocked his head, two black antennae twitching in interest. From his four spindly arms, fists were raised in greeting.

“A Ledian,” Mark Antony marveled. He stepped closer and couldn’t help but expect the Bug-type from his beige belly to the four black spots that adorned his closed wings. Death smiled; he guessed the twenty-five-year-old was either shocked that a living, breathing Pokémon was in Purgatory or feeling the first bouts of homesickness. Ledian stood there, calm, if a bit amused.

“This Pokémon was more than happy enough to help me in your training,” he told the soul.

Mark Antony turned from where he was crouched in front of the ladybug. “Really? What’s in it for him?”

Death glanced out the window. “I promised he could see his master one last time.”

Silver eyes were lowered. “Oh.”

“Lei Lei!” Ledian comforted him with a pat on the shoulder.

Death came to them and put a hand on Mark Antony’s other shoulder. “He’s right. This is a training session in where sad times are not to be contemplated. Stand up and take your scythe in hand.” Once Mark Antony did so, and Ledian stepped away a couple of paces to allow for some room, he continued, “Clear your mind and hold your scythe above your head. Then give Ledian once downward slice.”

Death floated back and raised his own scythe above his head. Mark Antony had to rein his instincts in to avoid jumping back when the sickle came flying down in a graceful arc. Mark Antony raised his scythe as Death leaned against his.

“Just like that?” the sergeant questioned, the sickle shining above his head. Ledian looked on with a determined frown, his body stock still.

“Just like that.”

Mark Antony returned his gaze to the Pokémon. Death had said that the scythe knew what to do, that all he had to do was swing, but the scythe didn’t feel any different. A sigh mounted his lips and left with the words, “You better know what you’re doing.”

The menacing sickle came down and passed through Ledian’s body like the ghost that had crafted it. Ledian collapsed on the floor and laid motionless at Mark Antony’s feet. Raising his scythe, the assistant saw a glowing blue sliver of light wrapped around the blade. It pulsated and tightened around the metal like a child hugging its favorite blanket. By the light of the sliver, Ledian’s prone, lifeless form was illuminated.

“That’s the basic form of a soul,” Death told his mesmerized charge. “When not brought here or to Heaven, this is how they look. They can only do one thing: struggle to get back to their body. Pick the soul off, and hold it in front of the skull.”

“I can’t help but think that this is some form of disrespect,” he sarcastically quipped as he picked the soul off with his fingers like he would a piece of string. Mark Antony blinked then stumbled forward when the soul gave one tremendous tug towards Ledian. “Whoa! Hold on there!” He turned to Death, who looked like he was inwardly chuckling at his trouble. “How in Arceus’ name do I hold on to it?!”

“Just tighten your hold, and tell it to stay still. Remember, you are now in control, and the soul will know that.”

“Stay still,” Mark Antony firmly told the wiggling mass in his grasp. He gave an opposing tug, and the soul reluctantly stilled. Mark Antony held it up to his face then in front of the skull. It slithered through one of the eye sockets and settled inside the orb. “Now why couldn’t my soldiers be as loyal as you are?” he asked as he examined the orb and the cerulean brilliance that swirled within it.

Another tug pulled at his body, but this one had wrapped around his waist and thrust him backwards towards Ledian’s body. Mark Antony only saw Death easily catch the scythe he dropped in surprise before the darkness that had started to creep around the edges of his vision enveloped him.
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Last edited by Phantom Kat; 05-05-2010 at 04:53 AM.
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  #62  
Old 03-19-2010, 04:03 AM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 6 is up for reading!)

_____

He had thought that that the darkness was going to knock him out for a long while, but Mark Antony blinked the world back into focus only a breath later. Death stared at him from high up in the air, his body and the two scythes he held absolutely colossal. Mark Antony picked himself up, and when four hands helped him up instead of two, he knew what had happened.

“Was a warning too much for you to say?” Mark Antony acidly remarked. His antennae quivered as he realized the words he had just spoke weren’t in English. Blue eyes widened, and he muttered a few words to himself in fascination.

“You might have hesitated if you were told, and the soul would have slipped your grasp,” the grim reaper simply explained. The glare he was given was not lessened. When Mark Antony settled for just shooting him a dirty look, he elaborated, “When a body no longer senses its soul anywhere near, it will suck in the nearest soul in a last ditch effort to survive. ”

“How selfish,” Mark Antony quipped as he turned around and inspected the four-foot-body he now occupied.

“No soul can occupy an empty body; it will end with the destruction of both the soul and the vessel. Your scythe, though,” he held it up, the blue light in the orb casting his face in shadow, “imbues you with the power that allows you to fully control the body with no side effects.”

“I’d hate to be destroyed after you just convinced Mew and Celebi not to wipe me off the map.” He had been about to say, “let me live,” but his mind automatically corrected it before the words were out of his mouth. Now that he had a real body again, that creeping feeling he had been feeling since he saw his pale skin and colorless eyes manifested itself into a heart that painfully ached. The sensation of breathing once again made him realize how much he had missed it. Even if the air provided by the atmosphere of Purgatory was thin and stale, Mark Antony thought it was the most refreshing thing ever.

“I’m fine,” he insisted when he saw Death’s stomach contorted in a concerned frown. The expression became blurry as tears brimmed and spilled down his face. Frustration boiled when he couldn’t stop the flow of tears, and the wings on his back spread open and buzzed madly. “I just need a breather.” There was a moment of silence. “It’s funny,” Mark Antony started to say, his wings lying flat on his back and his antennae drooping. “I had said to Cassius I was prepared to die, and now I’m here wishing that this Ledian’s body was my own.”

“Nobody is truly prepared to die,” the Dusknoir told him as he traced Mark Antony’s scythe; he knew such a proud man did not want to be looked down upon right now. “It’s human nature to always strive to be better and fulfill everything and anything. No matter how long you live, you will always feel that life was cut too short.”

Mark Antony inclined his head towards his teacher, each heartstring pull taught with the strange feeling that it was the end of the world for him. He didn’t know what was worst: never being able to live again, to travel, sleep, to know that the next day would be another chance to make something of himself or knowing that he would never be there when Johto was savaged by Kanto. Each realization was as depressing as the other. “Am I going to get used to this?”

“Think of it this way.” Death ignored the scythe he was expecting to wave a hand to the window and the bleak scenery that was forever present. “Yes, those souls down there live in ignorant bliss, but they, until their Judgment centuries from now, will never be able to live on after death. Each day will be filled with repetitiveness of their every day lives, and they do not have the power to do more. You, on the other hand, will have the chance to experience new things, to evolve, and see the world change. It’s your choice, however, whether you want to move on or not.”

Silence reigned for a few minutes. A sigh was then heard, and Mark Antony faced Death again. It was hard to tell which emotion was prominent in those wide eyes, but his half smile was less vague. It wobbled on his face, threatening to give away to the ache of the heart that wasn’t even his, but his stubborn, determined demeanor made it stay in place. “I’m sure as Hell not going to sit here and mope. I’ve never been one to do that, and I am not going to start now.” He heaved another sigh to calm his fluttering heartbeat. “Now what more do I need to learn?”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear,” Death remarked, beaming. “All you have left to learn is how to use the Pokémon’s abilities. Concentrate on finding that part of your mind that holds the Pokémon instincts. Right now, your soul is subconsciously suppressing them.”

Mark Antony nodded with one last wipe at the remaining tears on his face. He was silent once again, but this time, he was racking his mind for something he had never felt before. When after a few minutes passed without nothing jumping out at him, Mark Antony tried a more practical approach.

I want to fly, he mentally declared, raising a brow and awaiting some kind of sign. How do I go about doing that?

Some muscles on his shoulder blades itched, and he instinctively spread his wings out. Buzzing soon thrummed the air when Mark Antony let his mind show him all the other wing muscles he was unfamiliar with. He then let his train of thought wander and ask the questions while he jumped and hovered in the air. His own human instincts were holding him back, so why not let them take a backseat?

“Seems like you got the hang of it,” Death observed with a look up. Mark Antony flew above him, his two upper fists vanishing and reappearing as he let loose a Mach Punch at an invisible foe. “Make sure you don’t completely mask your human self. Your knowledge and skills are sharp and will serve you well. Just learn to have an even balance of both types of instincts.”

“Right,” his assistant agreed distractedly.

“Time for your first mission then.”

Mark Antony flew back in surprise. “Huh?!”

Death just grinned and motioned for him to land. When the Ledian touched the floor, Death suddenly thrust his intangible hand into Mark Antony and dragged his soul out by the scarf. The assistant rolled to the floor and barked in his normal tongue, “Will you quit doing that?”

“No time for apologies,” the grim reaper told him, and with one flick of his wrist, Ledian’s soul was sent back into its fallen body. The Pokémon began to stir, and Mark Antony’s scythe was forced back into his hands. “We have to head out, so you can get started. Time is of the essence.”

“Exactly where are we going?” Mark Antony asked, mad but disoriented enough to hold back a glare. Standing up, he propped himself with his scythe and ignored how the room still spun.

“Lavender Town, Kanto.”

Death sent him a warning look, but Mark Antony waved it off with a gritted, “I know. I have to protect everybody equally.” He then remarked as they were pulled into the grim reaper’s newly opened portal, “It doesn’t mean I have to like it."

_____

A/N: What do you do when you can't pick up Soul Silver on Sunday? You finish a chapter. What do you do when you get Soul Silver on Monday? Procrastinate on proofreading said chapter. xD

Yesh, finally, Mark Antony gets his scythe (and his strange outfit that I've grown to love). And for anybody who's reading, you finally know why I titled this fic "My Guardian Angel." It all makes sense now, huh? Again, a lot of this chapter was completely written on the fly, especially the training bit. Turned out well, I think.

What's in store for Chapter Eight? Mark Antony gets thrown into his least-favorite region and is forced to protect a kid who seems to seek out trouble rather than avoid it.

BUT, I'll be writing Mark Antony's special chapter next. It's all about the backstory I scrapped months after I thought of this fic, and it gets to feature a region I know next to nothing about: Orre! Yep, that's going to be fun. :D
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Last edited by Phantom Kat; 03-30-2010 at 11:22 PM.
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  #63  
Old 03-30-2010, 02:42 AM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

Yeep, small update! I edited Mark Antony's character profile, which now contain spoilers for Chapter Seven. Also, I posted, on the Soundtrack at the first post, a character song for a character that hasn't shown up yet. It's Bring Me To Life by Evanescence. The other day, I thought of the song, and then my character, and wondered how I did not make the connection between my character and the lyrics sooner.

One last thing: I'm working on a fan fic poster. Most of it is drawn out, and it's a lot better than the one I tried to do a couple of months ago. Hopefully, though, it doesn't come out TOO detailed. ^^;

- Kat
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Old 03-30-2010, 03:47 PM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

Great chapter PK!! Yes, now I understand why the story's called "My Guardian Angel". I can't wait to read the next chapter!! I find it interesting you're gonna put in Orre, because that's one of my favorite regions!!! =D If you need any info on it, check Bulbapedia.

This was a very interesting chapter. Mark Antony's gotta get used to his new job. xDD The training sesssion was interesting. I was thinking: "That poor Ledian!" And it's gona be interesting when he goes to Lavender Town, Kanto. That's SO not his favorite region right now. I wonder how he's gonna deal with a kid like that. xDDD
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Old 03-31-2010, 12:52 AM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

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Originally Posted by ShionRasenka View Post
Great chapter PK!! Yes, now I understand why the story's called "My Guardian Angel". I can't wait to read the next chapter!! I find it interesting you're gonna put in Orre, because that's one of my favorite regions!!! =D If you need any info on it, check Bulbapedia.

This was a very interesting chapter. Mark Antony's gotta get used to his new job. xDD The training sesssion was interesting. I was thinking: "That poor Ledian!" And it's gona be interesting when he goes to Lavender Town, Kanto. That's SO not his favorite region right now. I wonder how he's gonna deal with a kid like that. xDDD
xDD He's not going to like it, trust me. I had to completely rework the next three chapters because it dealt with modern day Poke Balls and Trainers, which completely contradicted the timeline I set. I'm glad I did because these new three chapters are a lot more interesting and exicting.

Yes, I like to make Mark Antony squirm, and he's going to be squirming as he tries to protect that kid. :P

On another note, I can't believe I already started thinking about a sequel to this fan fic. xD lol This is going to be fun.

- Kat
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Old 03-31-2010, 04:27 AM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

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Originally Posted by Phantom Kat View Post
xDD He's not going to like it, trust me. I had to completely rework the next three chapters because it dealt with modern day Poke Balls and Trainers, which completely contradicted the timeline I set. I'm glad I did because these new three chapters are a lot more interesting and exicting.

Yes, I like to make Mark Antony squirm, and he's going to be squirming as he tries to protect that kid. :P

On another note, I can't believe I already started thinking about a sequel to this fan fic. xD lol This is going to be fun.

- Kat
Wow, you had rework three chapters?? I feel bad for you, that must have been a pain, lol. I'm in the same boat with my own fic. I'm having to keep reworking it, which is why it hasn't been posted. But once I get it all settled and I write a few chapters, I'll post them.

And yes, an online friend of mine and I love to make our OCs squirm too. It's so fun. Shion will be in many a bad predicament she will, especially when dealing with her spaz of a little sister Shira. xDD

And you're thinking of a sequel, eh?? That sounds neat!! ^^ I doubt mine will, since it might be really long and ppl might be like: END IT ALREADY!! xDD
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Old 03-31-2010, 11:24 PM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

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Originally Posted by ShionRasenka View Post
Wow, you had rework three chapters?? I feel bad for you, that must have been a pain, lol. I'm in the same boat with my own fic. I'm having to keep reworking it, which is why it hasn't been posted. But once I get it all settled and I write a few chapters, I'll post them.

And yes, an online friend of mine and I love to make our OCs squirm too. It's so fun. Shion will be in many a bad predicament she will, especially when dealing with her spaz of a little sister Shira. xDD

And you're thinking of a sequel, eh?? That sounds neat!! ^^ I doubt mine will, since it might be really long and ppl might be like: END IT ALREADY!! xDD
Yeah, it was a bit of pain. What I first had in mind just wasn't that great, and it irked me even after I finished planning the entire fic. I had to rework quite a few things before I liked the plan. I kept running into minor plotholes or stuff that just made you go "wtf?"

lol Man, I NEED to read your fic whenever you post it. Sounds like it will be very entertaining. xD

Yep. The first idea I got was interesting, but it would make the sequel too dark and horror-like for my taste. P: This other idea that popped into mind seems better, so I'll see what I can work out. The good thing is that I left the end of this story a bit open in where I can include a sequel without someone saying, "But MGA was ended with nothing to hint that it was going to continue."

- Kat
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Old 04-01-2010, 06:21 PM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

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Originally Posted by Phantom Kat View Post
Yeah, it was a bit of pain. What I first had in mind just wasn't that great, and it irked me even after I finished planning the entire fic. I had to rework quite a few things before I liked the plan. I kept running into minor plotholes or stuff that just made you go "wtf?"

lol Man, I NEED to read your fic whenever you post it. Sounds like it will be very entertaining. xD

Yep. The first idea I got was interesting, but it would make the sequel too dark and horror-like for my taste. P: This other idea that popped into mind seems better, so I'll see what I can work out. The good thing is that I left the end of this story a bit open in where I can include a sequel without someone saying, "But MGA was ended with nothing to hint that it was going to continue."

- Kat
Yeah, that's the same problem I'm having. I've got multiple ideas, and trying to decide which ones are good to use, and which ones I can improve on. Right now I'm deciding on the villains' pokemon, and fine-tuning the plot. I have nearly 190 characters..... @_@_@_@_@ If you can't tell from that number, this fic is goign to be fairly lengthly and detailed. xDDD Nearly half of them are both my and a friends's OCs. We're gonna be writiing an original story, so we use each other's characters sometimes.

Yeah, it's nice to have an 'open' ending just in case you do want to do a sequel. I doubt mine will have one, but you never know. xDDD
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Old 04-02-2010, 05:09 PM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

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Originally Posted by ShionRasenka View Post
Yeah, that's the same problem I'm having. I've got multiple ideas, and trying to decide which ones are good to use, and which ones I can improve on. Right now I'm deciding on the villains' pokemon, and fine-tuning the plot. I have nearly 190 characters..... @_@_@_@_@ If you can't tell from that number, this fic is goign to be fairly lengthly and detailed. xDDD Nearly half of them are both my and a friends's OCs. We're gonna be writiing an original story, so we use each other's characters sometimes.

Yeah, it's nice to have an 'open' ending just in case you do want to do a sequel. I doubt mine will have one, but you never know. xDDD

Wow, 190 characters is a lot. xD I should ask my friend if she has any OCs she would want to add to my fic. It seems every time she draws it's a new OC. lol Yeah, it's always better to fine tune everything before you start writing 'cause if not, well, it can go downhill. *Has flashbacks of last attempted fic*

Hey, you never know. You might be in some random place and then say, "Oh snap, that would be a great sequel!" Imagine the stares if you say that aloud. xD

- Kat
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Old 04-02-2010, 05:58 PM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

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Originally Posted by Phantom Kat View Post

Wow, 190 characters is a lot. xD I should ask my friend if she has any OCs she would want to add to my fic. It seems every time she draws it's a new OC. lol Yeah, it's always better to fine tune everything before you start writing 'cause if not, well, it can go downhill. *Has flashbacks of last attempted fic*

Hey, you never know. You might be in some random place and then say, "Oh snap, that would be a great sequel!" Imagine the stares if you say that aloud. xD

- Kat
Yeah, I know how that can be. That's also what happened to my first fic. But I learned a bit from it, so it wasn't a total waste. Rigth now I'm laying out the original regions that the Medari live in. I'm listing the towns, the gyms and their leaders and what badges they give out, and landmarks and whatnot. It's taking time, but it'll be worth it in the end. After that I gotta plan out the villains' pokemon teams. Once that's done I should be pretty much ready to roll after a bit of finalizing the plot.

Yeah, I can so see it now: I'd be at a movie or something and get some inspiration and I'd be like: "Oh man, that's a great idea!", and make everyone mad. xDDD
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Old 04-10-2010, 06:45 AM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

Oh my God; I can't believe I just drew this. xDD

Spoiler:


Refrence to Hetalia: Axis Powers where Prussia (I'm pretty sure it's Prussia) says "I'll invade your vital regions," or something like that. And then I was listening to England's song, "Pub and GO!" and one thing led to another...

So yeah, this quick doodle came up. *gets looks* Hey, Mark Antony is old enough; he's twenty-five (and 300+ later on).

*still gets stares* I'll go to sleep now. :p

- Kat

EDIT: Oh yeah. Mark Antony was supposed to be holding his scythe, but straight lines hate me (maybe I shouldn't draw lying on my bed? xD). So yeah, that's why he's not holding it or has it strapped to his back. Maybe Cassius snagged it when he wasn't looking? lol
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Old 05-05-2010, 02:26 AM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

I would like to say that these special chapters are not meant to go along with the normal chapters of the story. They are stand alone one-shots, you could say. What is said or happens here are not applied to the main fan fic, although it might help you better understand some things.

Also, I have never played Pokemon XD: Gale of Darkness or Pokemon Colesseum, so the Orre and Shadow Pokemon in this are of my own imagination. If the story would have been written with this plot setting, I would have done research in order to keep the region and its elements as accurate as possible, but since this chapter is merely for fun, I decided to have fun and wing it.

So this is the background Mark Antony had in my original plot draft of My Guardian Angel. I did, however, add his military position and motives to fill in holes. As you will read, Mark Antony's character is more... cold-hearted and harsh.

Song for this chapter: Winter by Yasuhiro Takato. Lyrics are here

_____

Special Chapter 01

The Scourge of Orre


The knock on the door aroused Professor Lawrence from his reading.

It was unusual for something as trivial as a knock on the door to distract him from his research, but whoever was knocking was persistent, bold, and probably willing to stay at his doorstep well into the night. Putting down his reading spectacles and closing his hardcover book, the sixty-six-year-old man rose from his revolving chair and crossed the living room. From the arched window at the top of the door, he saw a pair of sand-covered goggles resting on chestnut hair. Lawrence opened the door and leaned against his walking cane to examine the young man before him.

“You must have a good reason to come and see me if you braved the Harrow Desert and its inhabitants,” the lean man commented, his thin locks of white hair brushed away from his face by the night breeze he just let in. Whatever drops of rain that fell and picked up midair by the gust speckled his very wrinkled, now gray, lab coat. The stranger paid no heed to the rain that was pelting him and instead straightened his olive-green trench coat and locked his amber eyes with the professor’s graying blue.

“I’m sorry to trouble you this late at night, Professor,” the twenty-five-year-old apologized with a slight bow; Lawrence quirked a bushy eyebrow, recognizing the Johtonian custom, as well as the accent. “But I was hoping that you could help me out.”

Professor Lawrence, uncaring that the traveler’s clothes were getting soaked, stood there and pondered about whether he should let the man in or not. Finally, he let the traveler enter with a nod of his head. The sound of leather loafers against hardwood floor was drowned out by the shutting door and the stranger’s heavy, black boots striding in. Rather than frown at the fact that his furnished floor paneling was getting wet and stained with the globs of wet sand that dripped from the traveler’s baggy jeans, the old man was more interested in why someone would come to his home. With that came a suspicious glint to his otherwise glazy stare.

As though on cue, something shifted in the shadows. The foreigner didn’t notice it, but Lawrence caught the slight movement and gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

“I suspected something more… elaborate,” commented the stranger, but despite his words, he seemed impressed by the large living room. Although the only furniture in the room was the professor’s desk and chair on a raised area of the room at the back and a forest-green loveseat at the corner, the air of wealth and importance was all around. The wood alone was a dark and rich honey shade, and that color only came from the oldest and most beautiful Nuez Trees that rested on Kanto’s beloved Indigo Plateau. An arm and a leg were surely the price to buy and export these magnificent trees.

“I make do,” the professor answered with a shrug, making his way to his desk; though he was suspicious of his visitor, he did not fear turning his back to him. Once he was seated, his book and glasses in his lap, he waved a hand towards the love seat. “Now take a seat, and state your name and business.”

“Name’s Mark Antony Colfax,” the Johtonian said as he took the invite, or rather order. Mark Antony was now noticing Lawrence’s cool gaze and posture. To say it didn’t make him wary would be a lie, but he had expected the professor to be as cold and aloof. Besides, he had faced much harsher things than an old man’s attitude.

Mark Antony’s cocky persona, however, was mentally smoothed over as he remembered the reason he was here. As confident as he was, being his usual harsh self wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

“I’m here,” he continued, unaware of the shifting shadows behind him, “to ask for your help. In Johto, I’m a sergeant of my regiment, and currently, we’re fighting Kanto for control of our own region.” Mark Antony glared at the floor as though it were the soldiers that were currently tearing up his beloved home. “Our regiments and our Pokémon aren’t enough. Battle after battle come and go, and we don’t seem any closer to victory than two years ago.”

Lawrence cocked his head, waiting to hear the point to Mark Antony’s visit. Noticing this, the sergeant intertwined his fingers together and leaned forward in his seat, amber eyes shrouded in shadow. “Professor Lawrence, you are the lead scientist in the research of Shadow Pokémon. Although I know you have created no Shadow Pokémon yet, I’m confident that you will and that they will be stronger, fiercer, and faster than normal Pokémon.”

“You want to be an apprentice and learn the art of Shadow Pokémon in order to win your Region War,” the man finished the thought. Lawrence quirked an interested brow, his solemn frown now not quite as harsh. Mark Antony raised his head in agreement, and his eyes were alight with malicious eagerness. He had heard of Lawrence’s claims that Shadow Pokémon could potentially have the ability to bring a region to its knees, and he liked the hellish idea.

“Yes,” Mark Antony finally said, a sly smile stretching from ear to ear. “I have no plans to steal the information or cause trouble in Orre. My sole reason to create and use Shadow Pokémon is to rid Johto of the Kantonians. If you agree to help me, I can bring you the spoils of my victory: rare Kanto Pokémon, weapons, and technology.”

When the strange shadow against the wall of the room moved again, this time, the twenty-five-year-old noticed it. Lawrence wryly grinned when he saw Mark Antony’s gloved hand going for a Poké Ball that hung among the cluster of spheres clipped to his belt. It was now his turn to lean forward with an all-knowing smile. His foreign guest enlarged the Poké Ball that now laid in his palm, his gaze darkening with his own suspicions and the hairs on his neck standing on end. “Your cruel ambition alone is enough to interest me, but can you handle a Pokémon embodied with nothing but darkness?”

From behind the loveseat, something long and silky black shot out and wrapped itself around Mark Antony’s arm. The sergeant jumped in his seat and jerked around to face his attacker. An elegant canine face met him with glittering ruby eyes, and Mark Antony only had a brief second to release his Pokémon from its capsule when the Ninetales leaped at him with gnashing fangs of ivory. Pidgeot materialized above them as Mark Antony’s other arm was grabbed by a second, writhing tail. The other seven waved behind the sleek vixen like snakes never straying too far from their master.

“Pidgeot!” the foreigner shouted towards the massive flyer above him. Ninetales arched her back and whipped her tails to her right. To Mark Antony’s great surprise, she managed to fling his girth towards the wall. The impact made his ears ring, his body ache, and he landed as a heap on the floor.

Pidgeot gave an ear-splitting cry that shook the downy, cream-colored feathers on his chest. He gave one downbeat of his chestnut wings and was on Ninetales in a flash. Black tails and ruby and yellow head feathers whipped around in the scuffle before nine spheres of cerulean fire propelled Pidgeot to the wall. Mark Antony rolled out of the way as his Pokémon flopped to the ground with growing burns over his body. Mark Antony wrinkled his nose as the smell of burnt flesh rose from the Pokémon that struggled to lift itself to his shaking, pink talons.

“And what was the point of attacking me?” he asked Lawrence, the professor rising from his seat. The demonic fox smiled once more with her abnormally sharp fangs and strutted towards her master. However, even when Lawrence didn’t respond immediately, Mark Antony found he was more intrigued than mad. As he rubbed his bleeding, bruised wrist and struggled to get back on his feet with aching limbs and back, he tried to think of a Pokémon that had shown more strength, more ruthlessness, than the smirking Ninetales in front of him. No other creature came to mind.

“I don’t want just anybody working alongside me,” the old man answered offhandedly. “Now I didn’t lie,” Lawrence pointed out when he saw Mark Antony open his mouth. “I never said I didn’t succeed in creating a Shadow Pokémon. So, what do you think?”

“It’s… amazing,” Mark Antony admitted, and the vixen flicked her tails in pride. Pidgeot, who had landed by his master’s side, clicked his pale pink beak at the shadow beast. Ninetales gave a sadistic grin as she was petted by the aged scientist.

“The only Shadow Pokémon thus far,” Lawrence told him. “All the others have died or have gone mad until they found a way to kill themselves off. But not my lovely Ninetales. She was the perfect guinea pig in every way.”

Ninetales leaned towards his hand as she was scratched behind the ears. Even the simple action was no longer normal. A grin that was once heartwarming was now forever evilly twisted. Mark Antony was oblivious to the cruelness, the utter hate that radiated off the creature. He saw only raw power and the potential to come back to Johto with a force that would bring the Kantonian forces to their knees.

“So will you accept me as your apprentice?”

The old man fiddled with his cane, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes, I will, although my idea of apprenticeship and yours might be different. You see, I can do everything on my own except capture and steal Pokémon I need for my experiments.” With a hand, Lawrence emphasized his frail body and the cane that was holding him upright. “I’ll leave that job up to you.”

An eyebrow was raised. “Stealing, huh? Sounds like a fun job.”

___

There was something in the man’s terrified face that put a grin on Mark Antony’s own. The lab assistant was mostly shrouded in the darkness of the lab, but by the shafts of dusty light that filtered in through the shattered roof, he saw the man’s tanned complexion; a native of Cinnibar Island, Kanto had faced his wrath. Or maybe it was how the man tried so hard to stop him and realizing that the Kantonians would soon face the same desperation. The mere thought sent him into a fit of spiteful chuckles that made his mount start below him.

“It’s alright, Pidgeot,” he calmed the avian, the evil smile still spreading upon his face.

The lab assistant rushed forward for one last attack, but Mark Antony swung the pipe he had picked up during the scuffle. With a teeth-chattering clang!, the man fell into a crumpled heap with a river of garnet blood oozing from the side of his head. Satisfied, Mark Antony threw the makeshift weapon to the side and took one last look at the ruins around them. Tables were overturned and were nothing but oversized splinters that cast shadows on the shards of glass that littered the floor. With the bookshelves and cabinets in ruins, papers and books were scattered and soaking up the spilled rainbow-colored concoctions at their feet. Pidgeot stared at the man, wondering if his master had managed to hit this one only hard enough to knock him unconscious, but he was then forced to fly upward by a kick to the ribcage.

“Nice haul,” Mark Antony commented after they burst through the mess that was the collapsing roof. He weighed the bag in his hands and couldn’t help but grin as he felt dozens of Poké Balls tumble over each other.

Suddenly, the clear night air was filled with the enraged voices of men. Mark Antony looked down at the barren landscape below them, the solitary lab they had just ambushed behind them. Hidden in the shadows of the towering sand dunes was the local law enforcement, “a laughable bunch of righteous fools,” as Mark Antony had called them on numerous occasions. These men were every bit as mysterious as himself. Their cream-colored overcoats and beige scarves hid every identifiable characteristic in order to blend in with their desert surroundings; Mark Antony was never sure if the men that chased him were the same bunch.

“Please,” he scoffed when he heard the numerous clicks of guns. “Seven months is way too long to chase something out of your reach.” The chestnut-haired man looked up instead to the mountain range that was coming up. A smart maneuver here and there and the police, if such shifty people could be called that, would be out of his hair. Securing his goggles over his eyes, Mark Antony told Pidgeot to fly higher.

Shots rang out. Pidgeot screeched in fright when one flew past and grazed his shoulder.

“Steady! Steady!” the sergeant yelled to the bird. Waving away the flurry of feathers that burst into the air from the shot, Mark Antony hunkered down even more and shot an infuriated look at the men below. Even from this high up, he saw that the guns the men wielded weren’t normal.

“Damn Orrians,” came the gritted curse. “How in Arceus’ name do they trump their own technology in mere months?!”

A volley of shots were coming their way now. Mark Antony took one look behind him and ordered, “About face! Whirlwind!”

His stomach gave one giant lurch when his Pokémon turned towards the attack and gave one mighty downbeat of his wings. Mark Antony felt himself being blown back, and if he didn’t grab hold of Pidgeot’s flank, he had no doubt that he would’ve fallen. Adjusting his askew goggles, he felt rather than saw the twister launch itself towards the incoming bullets. As though slapped away by an invisible hand, the bullets flew in different directions before exploding. The police didn’t even blink as their useless ammo rained down and disappeared among the sand dunes.

“To the mountains!” ordered the Johtonian, forcing Pidgeot to turn around. He hoped speed would be able to beat whatever the Orrians had up their sleeves. Ignoring the way the bird warily eyed the men below, Mark Antony urged him forward. The intimidating landforms were coming closer and closer, and though the craggy cliffs looked too unstable for his liking, he knew he could manage to get through without a hitch.

Pidgeot couldn’t help but turn his head, however, when flashes of white light caught his eye. Below, emerging from the shadows, came two blurs he undoubtedly knew was trouble. Mark Antony also redirected his gaze upon hearing the wind whistle an unnatural tune and promptly cursed. He didn’t recognize the flying Pokémon, but the shine of fangs and claws were enough to unnerve him.

“Gliscor!” one of them cried, and before Mark Antony could discern more than the Pokémon’s obsidian bat wings, one of the monster’s thick pincers was thrust towards his face. With a startled yelp, the sergeant leaned back almost to the point of toppling off his mount. The violet menace was not deterred, even when Pidgeot attempted to peck him in between his yellow eyes, and did a complete one-eighty that whipped his long tail towards the enemy.

Just as quick, Mark Antony unsheathed his sword and blocked the bulbous stinger. From the two prongs came oozing rancid poison that dripped down, effectively melting a patch of feathers from Pidgeot’s back. The great bird gave one giant lurch, threatening to send his master over the edge.

“Damn bird! Don’t let such a petty wound distract you!” He grabbed a hold of a handful of tawny feathers and yanked. Pidgeot screeched and flew up, which knocked a surprised Gliscor back towards his arriving ally. This flyer shrugged his dazed companion off and nodded at Mark Antony with a menacing glare; due to the Honchkrow’s hat-shaped head, the human had the impression that he was being tipped off by a very malicious gentleman. Pidgeot blinked the world back into focus, tears of pain shaken away, and saw the massive crow rearing his head back. The cascading waterfall of white feathers on his chest swelled in preparation.

“Up! UP!” commanded Mark Antony, bracing himself for the dodge.

His heart rocketed to his throat when Pidgeot obeyed. Inches below them, a ray that blended into the dark night sky flew by as silent as the bird that launched it.

“What are these Pokémon?!” Mark Antony cursed. He chanced a quick glance behind him and admitted that these Pokémon were completely alien to him, although that raven bird reminded him of a Murkrow and the bat of a Gligar. Was it possible that they were some sort of cousins from another region, like Hoenn or Sinnoh? Once again, he swore at the people of Orre and the connections they apparently had.

Gliscor’s triangular ears twitched, as though sensing the human’s distress. Showing a grin that displayed all of his razor-sharp fangs, he swooped in and raised one of his pincers. Mark Antony swung his sword and deflected the suddenly-coated silver forceps. Metal and Metal Claw met and produced a hair-raising screech that caused both parties to cringe in pain. The scorpion hybrid flew back to nurse his ringing head, letting Honchkrow fly in with a surprising caw.

The Astonish was enough for Pidgeot to jump in the air and take his eyes away from the enemy. Honchkrow narrowed his own in triumph and flew back with one downbeat of his wings. By the time the Normal-type regained his balance, the Big Boss Pokémon was already descending down in a corkscrew manner. The Drill Peck hit tender chest flesh and ripped it away in seconds. Pidgeot cried out and tried to flap out of the way, spreading the running blood in all directions. Honchkrow stopped his spinning and ate a dangling piece of flesh off his beak, absolutely delighted. Mark Antony gripped the hilt of his sword, his face reddening in anger, and with one fluid arc of his arm, he flung his sword into the crow’s chest.

Honchkrow tried to emit a caw, but only a slight gurgling was heard. Blood began to trickle from his beak, yet the flyer had enough energy to straighten and ruffle his red-tipped tail feathers. Mark Antony pulled his sword out when he finally managed to get Pidgeot to fly straight, ducking a wing that unleashed a devastatingly chilly Icy Wind. Gliscor materialized from behind his comrade and lashed his tail, the air that whizzed around him suddenly darkening into pitch blackness.

“Air Slash!”

Gliscor was buffeted by air that caught the underside of his wings and sent him toppling backwards mid-flight. He cringed while his Night Slash dissipated. Honchkrow swatted the scorpion away before he was hit, but by the time he did so, Mark Antony and Pidgeot were already high-tailing it to the mountains with a well-executed Agility. Both foes shared a heated glance and took flight after them, their cloaked trainers below following. However, it was obvious that they were too far behind to catch up.
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Old 05-05-2010, 02:28 AM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

Mark Antony didn’t turn back and see if he was being pursued. From experience, he knew it when enemies were too hell-bent on stopping him to think about quitting. It didn’t mater if they were currently huffing and puffing like madmen, though. Once among the mountains, he could easily lose them.

Pidgeot stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face the pursuers, who also stopped in mid-air. Mark Antony was about to demand why he had stopped, but the dreadful feeling that hung in the sky became strong enough for him to finally sense. In an instant, his body was incased in goose bumps, and a cold sweat had broken out on his brow. As though sensing the human’s growing unease, Honchkrow sent a crooked smirk only the malicious bird could pull off; even Gliscor shirked away from the crow.

Then a horrifying screech rent the air, a screech that told of murder, vengeance, and death. Mark Antony couldn’t put his hands to his ears. His body had seized up in relentless shivers that immobilized him, made him dread the seconds that ticked by. Honchkrow stopped the blood-curdling caw, but the echoes were still all around him, as loud as ever. It wasn’t until Mark Antony heard the sound of a hundred pair of wings flapping above him and saw the sand beneath them bathed by approaching shadows that he cried, his voice too frantic for his liking, “Fly, dammit! FLY!”

They were off in a heartbeat, but the spawns of the night were closing in, if the sound of their chill-inducing caws were any indication. Mark Antony ignored his pulsing heart and braved a glance behind him.

The shadow upon the sky parted as the hundreds of Murkrow spread out. Crooked beaks snapped at them, their speed and lust for blood greater than the sergeant had expected. Pidgeot yelped when multiple tail feathers were nipped at and flew forward with a great gust of wind that pushed many of them back. Mark Antony managed to swivel around, switching his grip from neck feathers to back feathers, and swung his sword. Two of the Dark-types fell in a flurry of feathers, but five more took their place. All the human could do was curse and continue to keep the birds at bay with swings of his sword. That all changed when Pidgeot, with his command, put in another Agility and tore through the sky, forcing him to just lay low and hold on for dear life.

They sped across the sky, but the Murkrow became bolder. In twos and threes they bombarded the Johtonian with unsheathed talons while another one would dive-bomb and try to pierce his back. Pidgeot would brace himself and flip to the side, batting the birds aside with his wings. Backward flips were executed when the Darkness Pokémon sped up towards the front, and sudden feints were made when a cluster of a dozen decided to attack all at once.

They finally made it among the winding paths of the mountains. Mark Antony turned back to the front, swatting away a Murkrow pecking at his hair, and yelled, “Uproar!”

Pidgeot reared his head back and filled the air with a caw that went from ear-splitting to silent when it continued to climb octaves. On either side of them, rocks tumbled to life from the mountain sides. Mark Antony took one look above them and knew that the plumes of dust at the top meant the mountains’ peaks were crumbling. “AGILITY!” he bellowed above the crash of boulders and the shaking of the mountains.

In a heartbeat, they were gone. The Murkrow shook away the appalling cry from their heads only to be pummeled by the landslide.

_____

“No…!”

Mark Antony shook his head, hoping the scene at the top of the hill was just in his head. The bag of Poké Balls numbly fell from his grasp. He ran towards the burning building, Pidgeot soaring after him, trying to make him stop. The trainer whirled around and hit the bird across the face with a fist. Pidgeot flew back, stunned and horrified.

“Get away, bird!” he spat, suddenly rigid with anger and fright. “Don’t you dare try and stop me!”

Again, Pidgeot was left dumbstruck and watched as Mark Antony ran up the path towards the hill illuminated by flames. By the time his Pokémon lifted his wings and flew after him, the trainer’s silhouette was beginning to fade into the orange and red. All the while, Mark Antony looked around him, knowing it was arson from the moment he had seen the house ablaze from the sky. There was nobody in sight, although knowing the cunning law enforcement in Orre, he wouldn’t be surprised if the perpetrators were watching from the shadows of the sand dunes around the hill. The thought made his blood boil as hot as the flames that ate up the doorframe and leaped onto his clothes. Without missing a beat, he unhooked a Poké Ball from his belt and released a Croconaw from it. The reptile turned in the air and pounded the ground with his short, thick tail. The Aqual Tail rose up as a wave of water as blue as his scales and as deadly as the fangs that jutted from his muscled maw. It crashed and swept the flames aside while ridding the air of the acrid smoke. With a wooosh!, the water hit the walls and collapsed to soak the hardwood floor. Eyes bordered by black scales watched Mark Antony sprint across the living room and stand against the bookshelf that spanned the entire back wall.

“Croconaw, Hydro Pump!” The ruby scales that ran down Croconaw’s back stiffened at Mark Antony’s scowl. There was something in his expression that was darker than normal.

Pidgeot entered the home just in time to see the cyan crocodile rear back and release a torrential twister from his gaping jaws. The attack drilled into the bookshelf and send the smoldering books flying as tattered pages and charred covers. Mark Antony wasted no time in going down the revealed staircase and into Professor Lawrence’s lab. The path down was free of any flames, but once he landed on the bottom stop and could see the cavern that laid beneath the house, he couldn’t help but bite his lip. Wherever machinery laid, there were pits of flame in their places. They grew, roared, and connected with each other through the papers and chemicals scattered on the rocky floor.

“This is where it all started,” he concluded upon seeing the ashen craters that peppered the floor and walls. Croconaw hopped to his side and inhaled to send a shot of water towards the growing wall of flames, but Mark Antony stopped him with a shouted, “Do that, and you’ll forever ruin the machinery!”

“Croc!” his Pokémon retorted, waving his arms to emphasize the fact that Lawrence could die if the machinery exploded from the flames. When Mark Antony stood on the step, the gears of his mind grinding to try and find a way to save the lab, Croconaw realized that his master had no intention of saving the professor. The Water-type narrowed his eyes and couldn’t help but bare his fangs at the human.

Mark Antony looked down at his Pokémon, a nasty frown upon his face. “What?” he barked. “Think I’m a monster? Go ahead and attack me, but as you do, remember that this house will soon collapse when the support beams are reduced to ashes. Are you going to let that happen?” When he saw Croconaw’s dawning expression of horror, the trainer looked over his shoulder and ordered, “Pidgeot, go with Croconaw to stop the blaze.”

Pidgeot chirped for Croconaw to follow him and flew back out the tunnel. The Big Jaw Pokémon gave his master one last, uncertain look and went out. When they disappeared, Mark Antony stepped into the lab cavern with a new Poké Ball in the palm of his hand. Calm and sure that he had the situation under control, he released the Cubone from within the sphere. The bipedal creature of brown looked up, his eyes fearful behind the loose skull he wore over his head. His grip on his bone club tightened when Mark Antony came closer, but he dared not back away.

“Okay, Cubone, I didn’t snag you so you could just stand there,” the human told him, and for a heartbeat, the Lonely Pokémon thought Mark Antony was going to bring out the same Pokémon that had murdered his first trainer. Instead, Mark Antony pointed at the burning machinery. High-quality metal held the worst of the flames’ wrath, but it wasn’t going to last for long. “Use a Mud-slap to put out the flames. If you even dare harm the machinery, I will personally allow you to meet your dead and useless trainer.”

Cubone stiffly nodded and brought his bone club close to his chest. Tears were brimming in his eyes, tears of hate, anger, and utter sadness. The Pokémon took a deep breath, hoping that one day, he would be strong enough to take his own life and leave this cruel human behind. That day was not today, however, and so he complied to Mark Antony’s order by sweeping the ground with his club. Rocks were picked up, torn away as though by the jaws of a monster, and then reduced to nothing but mud with a second sweep of the club. Cubone then flung the mud towards the first machine, half-hoping his attack would indeed cause damage.

Partial hopes were dashed when the mud simply doused the flames in a wet coat of slimy gray. Mark Antony nodded and pointed out another cluster of burning machinery. Cubone swallowed his disappointment and repeated the attack.

“Mark…!”

The hoarse, smoke-effected voice was a familiar one. From behind a massive computer riddled with sparking wires came stumbling out Professor Lawrence. His lab coat was in tatters from claw marks and burns, and his pale, ash-stained skin was peppered with bleeding cuts and bruises. With no cane to help him walk and a right leg that was nothing more than a charred limb, he soon fell to the cave floor. Mark Antony leisurely walked up towards the elderly man, his hands in his coat pockets and his expression indifferent. Lawrence reached out for him, but he knew that his apprentice had no intention of helping him. Even so, he kept his shaking hand aloft.

Mark Antony knelt down to the man’s eye level, tilting his head with that same, cold frown he always wore. “I think I learned everything I can from you, Professor,” he told him, his tone matter-of-fact. “There’s no reason for me to stay under your apprenticeship.”

“So…you’re leaving,” the old man breathed out, finally lowering his hand. Glazed eyes met Mark Antony’s stony hazel.

Mark Antony lightly shook his head. “No, Professor. It will be you who will be leaving.” Leaving Lawrence momentarily surprised, the trainer said to the Pokémon behind him, “Cubone, Bone Club this man out of his misery.”

“B-!” Cubone cut himself off upon realizing that Mark Antony wanted this man dead. Whose to say the man wasn’t going to do the same to him? Solemnly nodding, Cubone ran up to them with shut eyes. Mark Antony stood up and smoothly moved out of the way. Lawrence looked up, unblinking and stock-still. His eyes were forced closed when the Bone Club broke his neck and sent his corpse skittering towards the computer he had used for cover. Cubone looked at the lifeless body then away when his eyes landed on the man’s bent neck. When he did, though, he caught a glimpse of his blood-stained club.

“It seems you managed to put out all the flames,” Mark Antony observed when he turned his back on the man he just murdered. “Good job.” Cubone did not even hear his words.

A couple of hours later, Pidgeot and Croconaw returned, exhausted and with winded breaths. They stopped when they descended the steps, and their blood ran cold. Mark Antony straightened from where he was typing on the computer he managed to save, Lawrence’s body forgotten at his feet. With a few more clicks, he finished rebooting the computer and turned to greet his Pokémon. What was left of the extinguished fires swirled around him as smoke. The machinery that could not be salvaged had been reduced to a pile of metal parts and electrical wires. Everything else needed to be repaired or rebooted, but Mark Antony didn’t mind.

This was his laboratory now. It was his turn to take over the professor’s plans, although his schemes weren’t the same as the dead man’s. All he wanted was an army of Shadow Pokémon that would eliminate the Kantonians from his region.

And now, that goal seemed within arm’s reach.

In fact…

Without warning, Mark Antony grabbed Cubone by the spikes of his mother’s skull. The Ground-type let out a startled yell and struggled, not even realizing that he could use his bone club to attack. The sergeant grinned at the petty attempts of escape and addressed his two Pokémon at the steps, “This is my laboratory now, and with that, Shadow Pokémon will be under my control.” He stole a glance at Cubone, who was frozen in fear. “Starting with you guys.”

Pidgeot and Croconaw shared a look then bolted for the stairs. Before Mark Antony could pull our their Poké Balls to recall them, a blur of onyx rushed out from the shadows and in front of the runaway Pokémon. Ninetales stood before them, all nine of her tails brimming with spheres of cyan fire. Mark Antony blinked in surprise and saw the Shadow Pokémon give him a fanged grin. Their eyes met, and the Johtonian knew what she meant.

“So you realized that the professor was too weak for this project, too?” he questioned the fox. “That’s why you didn’t help him back there.”

Ninetales nodded at her new master then fixed Pidgeot and Croconaw with a cold glare. Both of the creatures cowered under it, and they were sucked back into their Poké Balls once Mark Antony put Cubone down, his boot holding the small Pokémon by his short tail. Once he hooked the two spheres to his belt, he recalled Cubone and held the Poké Ball in his palm.

He proceeded to place it on the capsule holder, a wide, cylindrical appliance that sported burns and broken plates of metals. The glass dome that once protected the Poké Ball inside it from harm was nothing more than shards of scattered glass that Mark Antony crunched on his way to the computer. There was a good chance that the machine was still in working order.

Mark Antony stopped typing, realizing that being wrong would probably result in the machine frying the Pokémon inside the Poké Ball.

The man shrugged. He still had a bag of Poké Balls he needed to retrieve from outside. Pokémon subjects were not in short supply.

_____

The sun had set, and Mark Antony marveled at how Pidgeot’s sleet-gray and onyx-black feathers blended seamlessly with the night sky. The sergeant ran a hand though the bird’s back feathers and couldn’t help but feel a thrilling shiver. It had been three months since he had transformed his Pokémon into their Shadow forms, but he still got chills at the sight of them. Their very fur, feathers, and scales teemed with a power he still could not comprehend.

Pidgeot cocked its head, and its minuscule pupils bore into Mark Antony’s own. There was no disobedience, hatred, or fear in them. All of those feelings had been dealt with and erased that night in the lab. That stony stare was only fueled with the iron determination of fulfilling its master’s wishes, a stark contrast to Ninetales’ cunning gaze. Did something indeed malfunction with the equipment due to the raid? Were his own Pokémon lacking something Ninetales had? Did the professor add something else to the transformation process he himself knew nothing about?

It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, he was glad that his Pokémon didn’t exhibit it. That was the professor’s mistake. Shadow Pokémon were not meant to be independent creatures of great power. They were supposed to be nothing but powerful drones incapable of their own decisions. Allowed one sliver of intelligence, and they would turn. Even now, Mark Antony was still debating about whether to keep Ninetales or just dispose of her. She was devilish as she was powerful. Who knew when she would decide he was also too weak to control her…?

From the edge of his vision, Mark Antony made out flames. His heart skipped a beat, and subconsciously tightening his hold on his bag of stolen Poké Balls, he shouted, “Pidgeot, climb!”

The Pokémon angled its wings and flew up at neck-breaking speed, Mark Antony hunkering down as his heart went up to his throat. Beneath them, the Flamethrower past by in all its ruby glory. Pidgeot now flew leveled, seemingly uncaring that its feathers had been seconds way from being burnt off its body. Mark Antony, however, risked a look behind him and saw an orange coming right towards them, the dark-green undersides of his wings catching the breeze and taking him closer and closer to them. From behind the Pokémon’s long neck, the Johtonian made out a head of unruly, dark-brown hair.

Mark Antony took his gaze away from the Charizard and his master to look beneath him and figure out a plan of escape; Pidgeot couldn’t very well fight at full potential with him on his back. To his great irritation, they were flying directly over a city made out of small houses and various labs that rose as metal skyscrapers from the sand. Gripping Pidgeot’s feathers, he looked beyond the town, beyond the stadium on the outskirts, and towards the great desert that expanded over the horizon. If he could get over there, Pidgeot would be able to create a sandstorm big enough to cloak his retreat and confuse the trainer, whoever he was.

Charizard’s roar shook the foundations of the buildings, but the sound then transformed into a rippling in the air. Pidgeot whirled around, face still expressionless. From behind his goggles, Mark Antony saw the Heat Wave swell and extend in rolling waves of heat. Even yards away, the fire was intense; his skin prickled unpleasantly, and his mouth was bone-dry.

“Who the hell is this guy?” he spat the question before yelling, “Mirror Move!”

Pidgeot flapped itself from its smooth flight and faced the Charizard with fearless, unblinking eyes. With another down stroke, flames erupted from the underside of its dark wings. Mark Antony yelled out in surprise and covered his eyes, but the searing flames were still dancing in his mind. The sergeant felt the air explode with heat, felt flames hover down to burn his clothing, and he knew that the two Fire-type attacks had collided. Charizard’s bellow of pain came soon after. Curiously enough, the strange trainer said not a word, even after Mark Antony reopened his eyes and tried to lock gazes.

“To the desert,” he ordered his Shadow Pokémon with a kick between the bird’s ribcage. With feathers still brimming orange, Pidgeot took off to the designated direction.

A guttural growl told them the Flame Pokémon took off after them, his muscled, lit tail whipping behind him like a serpent. Pidgeot turned its head for a split second and directed a downbeat of its wings towards the dual-type. From the folds of feathers came shooting out a flurry of golden stars that illuminated the buildings they were leaving behind. Charizard spouted out a sliver of orange fire that warped itself into a twister; it wrapped the Swift and send it flying uselessly behind him. The Fire Spin ended, and Charizard was gaining speed. Mark Antony, for once, felt he was losing the advantage.

“Pidgeot!” he yelled above the wind. “Use-!

He was cut-off mid-sentence when an Air Slash hit them from behind and sent Pidgeot careering forward with frantic wing flaps. Mark Antony tried to get his Pokémon under control, but when he looked up, the trainer’s face met his own. Harsh dark eyes locked with his before his Charizard conjured a Twister with a downbeat of his wings. Mark Antony soon found his world turned upside down when the column of swirling wind engulfed both him and Pidgeot. His hands gripped its neck feathers, but his arms still shook at the prospect of being tossed up into the air and left to drop. Pidgeot’s screech rang in his ears as they spiraled into the spinning world beneath them. They were shadowed by Charizard’s descending form as they fell.

Still, his trainer said nothing.
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  #74  
Old 05-05-2010, 02:30 AM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

Mark Antony, teeth gritted and eyes half-shut behind his goggles, pulled himself next to Pidgeot’s hidden ears. The bird’s cry was louder than ever, and he wasn’t sure he could hear the wind rushing around them anymore. The sergeant took a deep breath, willing his heart back to his chest if just for a moment, and uttered, “Tailwind!”

Something clicked in Pidgeot’s mind, and it forced its wings to straighten and its tail feathers to stiffen to produce one last gust. Unfortunately, they were both sent backwards from the unpredictably strong rush of wind that was released. Their forms were captured by the Twister once again. This time, the Shadow Pokémon’s wings were strapped to its sides by the winds. Now, they were too close to the ground for another attempt.

Suddenly, the Twister was broken by a downbeat of Charizard’s wings. Pidgeot’s own were freed just in time for both it and his trainer to crumple onto the ground, some last minute flaps saving them from a crash landing. The Johtonian rolled from his mount’s back and onto the ground. Mark Antony began to pick himself up, feeling the gravel beneath his fingers. Disoriented, he got on his knees and saw the rows upon rows of seats that surrounded the stadium. He stayed on his knees, the dizziness and nausea almost too much to bare. Pidgeot’s cry was now waning from the depths of his ears, and he thought he could hear the clanking of the chains that held up the battle arena above the mile-deep crevice dug into the desert. Mark Antony shut his mouth, tasting bile and feeling his heart still rapidly shaking within his rib cage.

A thump! that shook the ground and made the gravel jump told him that the Flame Pokémon just landed. Pidgeot ruffled its feathers and looked up as it got back to its talons, but Mark Antony could only crane his neck and hope that the sudden movement didn’t send his world spiraling again. He only got as far as seeing the trainer don a cap and jump from the Chairzard’s back when the lights of the stadium turned on. White bombarded his eyes and made him look down again. Eventually, the sound of crunching footsteps forced him stand up, albeit wobbly, and face his foe.

It was then that he noticed he was facing the famous Red.

The twenty-year-old tilted his red cap up to reveal dark-brown eyes too aged for someone so young. Red regarded the Pikachu that bounded from the stadium box, down the rows of seats, and onto the battle arena with a softening of his steely eyes. The yellow rodent rubbed against the blue jeans of his master affectionately then redirected eyes of dark amber towards Mark Antony, red cheeks sparking with electricity. Mark Antony gave the Electric-type a look of distaste then squared his shoulders and raised his chin towards Red. Despite being five years younger than himself, Red looked down at him with that unwavering stare of his. It made the Shadow Trainer growl in anger.

“I’ve heard stories about you,” he began, his words a tad slurred with the dizziness he still felt in his throbbing head. “Champion of Kanto. The one who defeated Team Rocket those years ago.” Something clicked, and suddenly, Mark Antony’s world was no longer shaking on its foundation. Perfectly-focused eyes narrowed. “They’ve sent you to stop me, haven’t they?” He wasn’t sure who “they” were exactly, but he had known, deep down, after that night in the lab, that somebody else was going to step up to try and take him down.

Red merely nodded, expression still stern.

Mark Antony raised an eyebrow, waiting for the champion to elaborate and give a reason as to why he thought he would succeed when countless others before him had failed. Red stayed silent and only pointed at Pidgeot. Mark Antony frowned and looked at his Pokémon to find the bird was holding one mangled wing close to its chest. Anger mingled with shock clung to his face. He glanced at the Charizard; that Pokémon was stronger than any other he had faced if his attack managed to break Pidgeot’s wing beyond usefulness. Still, he smoothed over his scowl.

“You may have forced me to stand and face you,” he addressed Red acidly, “but do not think I have already lost!”

The young brunet closed his eyes as though to say he would never think of such folly. Red’s Pikachu bounded to the center of the arena with his lightning bolt-shaped tailed twitching in anticipation for the battle he knew was coming. Mark Antony stepped up and fished out a Poké Ball from his belt, enlarging it with an expression of cold fury. Pikachu’s black-tipped ears were flat on top his skull when Cubone was released in a haze of dark-violet. Everything about the materialized Shadow Pokémon unsettled the mouse.

Cubone tipped its bleach-white skull so that wine-red eyes could meet Pikachu’s defiant stare. Its ash-gray skin blended almost seamlessly with the gravel at its feet, and its club was now stained with the blood of the numerous victims Mark Antony had ordered him to dispose of in the past three months. At the sight, Red’s eyes dangerously narrowed. Mark Antony smirked, glad he evoked some kind of reaction from him.

“Bone Rush,” was the simple, confident order.

Cubone chucked its bone club, and two more materialized in its paws. Pikachu rolled away from the real club and dodged the two new ones by jumping high into the air. Cubone conjured two more and ran up to the rodent. The rodent’s eyes widened when the Ground-type jumped to his height in a flash. Without so much as a grin of triumph, Cubone clobbered the Kanto Pokémon on the head with one bone then slammed the other into his stomach as Pikachu fell in pain. The Shadow Pokémon descended down with one last bone in its grip.

It was its turn to be shocked when Pikachu, seconds away from hitting the ground, flipped backwards and delivered an Iron Tail to the jaw. All Cubone saw was flashes of silver dancing among the lights of the stadium before he landed on the gravel. Mark Antony sharply looked at Red and knew he had given no command to his Pikachu. With an order of, “Bone Club!” to the mindless Cubone, he gave the Kantonian a glare that the younger trainer immediately turned to.

“Is that how the famous Red faces his opponents?” Mark Antony called to him. “Do you look down upon them so much that you don’t bother with Pokémon commands?”

The champion raised his head towards him, the brim of his hat casting a shadow upon his serious stare. “We trainers should not control a Pokémon’s every move. We are merely their guides in times of trouble. They are our friends, not our tools.”

Mark Antony gave him an infuriated look, as though the words had slapped him in the face. He had heard many people say the exact same thing, but hearing it from Red was much more angering. When Mark Antony met those orbs of brown, he didn’t see an accomplished trainer, a champion, a defender of the people. He saw a Kantonian with his self-righteous beliefs and his aloof attitude. He saw that superior look, that air around him that emitted confidence and cockiness. All of it made him think of the Kantonian soldiers that were currently making themselves at home in Johto.

The shaking of the gravel beneath his feet alerted him to the Pokémon fight. Cubone had Pikachu nailed to the floor with a bone against his throat. The trapped Pokémon growled and braced his hind paws against the Ground-type’s stomach. Cubone didn’t need Mark Antony’s command of, “Finish him off!” The reptile pressed the bone club more and more against Pikachu’s windpipe, sanguine eyes glittering in glee. Mark Antony stood back, his stirring anger making it difficult to enjoy the upcoming victory. He knew Red had more Pokémon in his disposal, but he also knew the champion would be too shell-shocked to continue the battle after one of his “friends” died before his eyes. In mere seconds, he would use Cubone and Croconaw to take control of Charizard and fly back to the lab.

But then Cubone’s pain-filled cry snapped him from his musings. It stumbled back and clutched its mother’s skull with trembling paws. No matter how loud it yelled, though, Pikachu’s Uproar still assaulted its ears. The aforementioned mouse jumped to his paws and took off with a Quick Attack that hit Cubone in the abdomen. Mark Antony took a step forward when his Shadow Pokémon was knocked down then sent skittering again with an Iron Tail. A glance at Red’s solemn face made his blood boil anew. Pride was rearing up its head.

“Cubone, do whatever you need to do to win!”

Mark Antony couldn’t help but step back when Cubone looked at him. Its eyes glowed like bloody rubies, and it emitted a strangled cry of joy. Immediately, Cubone dodged Pikachu’s Slam with a swift jump back. Pikachu looked up only to see the Shadow Pokémon hanging off of one of the colossal chains that connected the arena with the stadium’s stone structures near the seats. With that crazy, triumphant glint in his orbs, Cubone brandished its club and slammed it against the chain. Metal links shattered at once, and the arena gave a great upheaval as it tilted to the right and down to the darkness below. Pikachu tore off towards the crazed creature when Cubone jumped and ran in the direction of the next chain.

“STOP!” his trainer yelled, but the arena shuddered in warning and made him lose his balance. Now on his knees, he watched, horror-stricken, as the Lonely Pokémon climbed up the next chain. The sound of the torn link still echoed in Mark Antony’s ears like an out-of-tune chord, and he immediately rose to his feet and reached for Croconaw’s Poké Ball.

Charizard flew above him, already one step ahead, and Pikachu retreated back to his master. Cubone inclined his head at the sound of leathery wings and smiled under his skull. He jumped away to avoid Charizard’s jaws and threw his bone with all the strength he could muster when he was swatted away by the dragon’s tail. The chain was split in half, and the destruction trickled down so that links burst apart before everybody’s eyes. Mark Antony gave a cry of alarm when he was thrown on the floor and sent sliding towards the tilting half of the arena. The groaning of the floor and the sound of waves of gravel tumbling along with him drowned out his frantic heart. Mark Antony dug the heels of his boots and tried to stand up, but the gravel beneath him continued on sliding. The angle towards the crevice was becoming steeper and steeper, much to his growing horror.

Pidgeot’s screech joined the symphony of destruction. Mark Antony saw it tumble over the edge, its unbroken wing flapping uselessly as it was swallowed up by the darkness. Croconaw’s Poké Ball slipped from his fingers and was lost among the gravel. Cubone had jumped when Charizard went for his master, smiling proudly all the while.

He had finally been brave enough to take his own life.

“Mark Antony!”

The Johtonian looked up when a large shadow covered his form. On top of Charizard, Red held out his hand towards him, outright concern taking over his once solemn features. Mark Antony scowled up at him. He felt rather than saw the edge creeping closer and closer. Again, he tried to get up, but he was swept off his feet the moment he did so. Red leaned towards him, his frown taught.

“Don’t be a fool!” he shouted. Something in his eyes softened. “Please, Mark Antony. This is not your end.”

Mark Antony analyzed the Kantonian’s hand. No. There was no chance that he could grasp it and pull Red down with him as he fell. Already the ground was lost beneath his boots.

“Go burn in Hell!” Mark Antony spat. “And take your people with you!”

And he went over the edge.
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Old 05-05-2010, 02:39 AM
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Default Re: My Guardian Angel (PG-13) (Chapter 7 can be read now!)

_____

In what seemed like an instant later, Mark Antony started, opened his eyes, and was assaulted by pristine white. He uttered a cry and stumbled back, but a pair of strong, gargantuan hands held him by the shoulders and forced him to straighten. If he had been a dog, his hackles would have risen and his teeth would have been bared at the touch. The Johtonian whirled around, jaw set firmly in indignation. All fury, and his voice, evaporated at the sight of a red eye glaring down at him.

“I see you came to your senses,” a voice purred from above him.

When Mark Antony grasped his nerves and turned away from the cyclops, he saw a pink feline leisurely fly from behind one of the many columns of polished limestone that circled the center of the white chamber. Tiny, triangle ears were perked in fascination, but the creature’s cerulean eyes were just as malicious as the twisted grin on his small snout. Mark Antony, with the ghost behind him, could only stand in shock. The Pokémon flew past him and circled him with pure curiosity, his long tail winding around the man’s throat like a loving snake.

“Who are you?” Mark Antony growled, hating the fact that his voice shook. This Pokémon radiated power, and it sunk into his bones and heart to make his entire being shake. No, it wasn’t only the god’s presence that made him shiver. There was a shroud of cold that embraced him and refused to let go. Feeling the cat’s tail caress his face, he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around his quacking frame.

It was then that he found his clothes had changed.

“You’re dead, or haven’t you noticed?” the feline chirped in his ear, a smile weaving into his words. “It’s the whole reason you understand my tongue.” The Legend flew back as Mark Antony expected everything from his ash-gray, swallow-tailed coat to the pitch-black dress pants that draped over his boots. He was startled back to his senses when the cat faced him again, and a green pixie joined the Legendary Pokémon from where she was perched on a pillar. The disoriented soul managed to twist himself out of the ghost’s hands and step to his left so that he could glare at the three strange figures. As he did so, he faintly felt something strapped to his back.

“Who in Arceus’ name are you?!” he repeated between chattering teeth; the olive-green scarf that was wrapped around his neck could not keep the chills at bay.

The green fairy let out a scornful laugh, her two transparent wings fluttering as she came closer to him. “We are his children,” her melodic voice told him, the tone suggesting he was an idiot for not knowing so himself. “I’m Celebi, the time traveling deity who has graced your region for centuries.”

As a spark of recognition ignited his now silver eyes, the first Pokémon’s taunting smirk melted into a dangerous frown that shadowed his gaze. It seemed that the fact that Mark Antony had the nerve to stand there, unafraid and demanding their identities as though he was in charge, ruined his fun. “I’m Mew,” he curtly told him. “Arceus’ first child. Like I stated before, you’re dead, Mark Antony Colfax. Judgment has been passed before you, and it has been decided that you’re to be Death’s assistant,” he motioned to the Dusknoir briefly, “for now and evermore.”

Mark Antony clamped his gaping mouth shut. Without warning, he stepped up and grabbed Mew by the fur of his chest. Celebi’s antennae stiffened in rage while Death looked on with an indifferent look, the yellow mouth on his stomach twisting into a thoughtful frown. The time traveler, her clenched hands already sparking with blue power, was waved away with a flick of Mew’s hand. Mark Antony only saw Mew in his haze of red, Mew and that superior look the Legend’s eyes held even now.

“How dare you think you can decide my fate?” His steaming anger was enough to keep his cold-induced stuttering away. “Gods you may be,” he spat, “but what becomes of me is my choice and my choice only.”

Mew took one look at Mark Antony’s platinum irises and pale skin before chortling in his face. “You ignorant, ignorant human,” the god chastised him, growing amusement making his tail twitch. “When you’re dead, you have no say as to what will happen to you. If I so wanted, I could eliminate your soul from existence, and a part of me wonders, ‘Why haven’t I done so?’ You’ve killed many people, Mark Antony.” The human’s name sounded like sweet poison on Mew’s tongue. “Your heart is as dark as the Pokémon you created. There is no remorse, no forgiveness, in your hostile stare. Surely the world would benefit from your complete absence.”

The soul gasped when he was lifted in the air by an invisible hand that held his body painfully tight. Though he realized that he didn’t need to breathe, Mark Antony still found himself panicking when Mew’s psychic powers began to compress his windpipe. The scythe strapped to his back rattled as he kicked his legs and clawed at the deity that had floated from his hands. Mew took a moment to relish the struggle before intensifying his powers. Now Mark Antony screamed and held his head, doubling over in the air and wondering if he was really dead. He felt the coldness, the lack of a heartbeat, and the truth in Mew and Celebi’s words, but was the pain he was feeling just in his head?

The pain that stabbed at his mind like many knives was real. Mew’s next words were just faint, insignificant words that were drowned out by his yells. Celebi watched on with morbid fascination. Death closed his eye and bowed his head, waiting for Mew’s unneeded torture to be over.

“But at the end I said no,” the New Species Pokémon continued. “It would be too much mercy for the likes of you. You need to suffer for your sins against Pokémon and human kind, not be slapped on the wrist and disposed of. So I’ll take every grain of memory you have and leave you in the world of Purgatory with Death for all eternity.”

Mark Antony wanted to protest, but even when the pain ebbed away, he had lost the words in order to try and hold on to the memories that were running through his fingers like sand. Each time an image presented itself, it evaporated away. Placed and people he tried to recall no longer had any meaning, and after a while, even their names were lost. Again and again the pattern was repeated, and again and again he tried to hold on to something; even the most insignificant of memories, like the smell of his childhood home, were grasped in vain.

And every time they escaped his fingers, even he, cold-hearted Mark Antony, had the urge to cry.

So it was when he was dropped to the floor like a forgotten doll that he looked upon the holy chamber with empty eyes. He tried desperately to feel angry at the beings that smirked before him, but every event, every memory, that had made him the callous person he was had been wiped away. Even the notion of knowing his whole life had just been discarded was gone in an instant. Mark Antony sat there, his eyes wide and fearful of everything he saw.

At length, all he managed was a shaky, “What have you done to me?” His voice grew stronger, yet his eyes still met the floor. “Why am I here?“

On the polished tiles, he studied his reflection. He saw faint scars with no explanation and eyes that pained for no reason. The skull perched on the top of his strapped scythe stared back tauntingly. Or was it in understanding? It, after all, was as hollow as him. Hesitantly, he stood up and reached for the scythe. Once he held it close to his chest, the feeling of having a weapon in his hands was a familiar tingle at the back of his mind.

“Come.”

Mark Antony jumped at the voice and turned around to face Death. The three gray flaps on either side of the Ghost-type’s cylindrical head had been flapping in silent anger for a while now, but they were still as he looked down upon the twenty-five-year-old with that sole eye of his. Death tilted his head and observed his new assistant. Interesting. Despite having no memories, the soul had a firm, determined look about him that was only hindered by the lack of a gleam in his eyes.

“I assume you will tell me what I need to do?” Mark Antony probed, noting that the energy he felt in the scythe could be felt in the hand Death laid on his shoulder.

The Dusknoir glanced at him curiously. “You do not wish to know who you are or what you’re doing here?’

The gaze that met him was one of defeat. “I have a feeling I don’t want to know.”

“And your name?”

The soul smiled a bit. “Mark Antony.”

Death glanced at Mew, not knowing whether that sliver of a memory was meant to comfort or torture. With that lingering thought, both he and his assistant disappeared in a plume of emerald fire. The two deities watched the curling flames wane and die away.

“Helping humans.” Mew snorted at the job Death had waiting for the dead sergeant. “Despite having no memories, a human can never change. He’ll loathe the job.”

Celebi’s grin faltered with an occurring thought. “What if he grows to like it?”

Her brother shrugged, though a malicious smile was present on his features. “Then he’ll be nothing more than a forgotten memory.”

With those murderous words echoing among the marble walls, both gods settled in to enjoy Arceus’ absence.

_____

A/N: Wow, did that turn out longer than I expected.

This is how the story would have gone if I had used this instead of what I wrote in the official chapters: Mark Antony would have indeed grown to love his job, never knowing who he is but happy enough that he doesn't want to know. Death keeps this from Mew, so Mew never destroys his soul as he said he would. However, as the story would progress, Mark Antony would come to figure out his past, (by some events I never specified in my notes) and he would be conflicted with his cold past self and the caring guardian angel he is now.

But that is not going to happen. :P

After writing this chapter out, I miss writing about my official Mark Antony, but I cannot work on two things at once. So that's why I didn't start Chapter Eight yet. ^^; I need to update faster if I ever want to write the sequel sometime in this lifetime. *looks at the pages of notes*

Also, as I was proofreading that last part, I realized I never specified how Mark Antony could understand the Legends and Death (and not normal Pokémon). :x I'll go and fix that in Chapter Seven. *scurries off*

EDIT: Done. You can find some extra information when Mark Antony is talking to Death before his training begins.
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Last edited by Phantom Kat; 05-05-2010 at 11:07 PM.
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