World War P(okemon)

“Well......that’s not good.” That was my first though when I woke up. I could feel a thin trickle of what would alter turn out to be my blood running down my brow with full intent to blind me. Being right handed, I had tried to reach up and brush it away. What in actuality occurred was a dull ache, a bend in an elbow but now hand to accompany it........shit....

It was some time later that I fully gained access to my faculties. Sitting up in bed, I took stock of myself in the crude stainless steel scrap that had been placed as a makeshift mirror. I couldn’t help but let out a small scoff, no chances of making a weapon from that.

Looking back at me was a man I barely recognized. Mud and blood stained a normally tan face, blue eyes lacking their spark, and blonde hair burnt or sheared away leaving a cut that could hardly be described as in fashion.......yellow and black fatigues that only camouflaged in his line of work were torn, burnt marks running across them. A dirty bandage stained red wrapped around his elbow, an elbow that abruptly ended prior to how his left arm finished in an actual working hand.

Patting my fatigues everything I’d owned was now off my person. All the way to the dog tags. “Double shit.....” my voice sounded gruff, more than normal. Thinking back a shock ran through my body. The last thing I could remember was the storm, a storm that shouldn’t have resulted in this.......a storm that should have been out of their forecast, and yet they’d seen it coming. This thought was what brought pain, more than a missing arm ever could. “Triple shit....” I muttered letting my head lean back on the wall.

First Lieutenant Gin Arashi. Aged 26 years, blood type O, Jhoto Region, Olivine City. Nicknamed “The Steel Storm”. Prior to the war he was a gym leader for his home, specializing in steel and electric types. Shortly after being drafted, his unique type combinations led to grueling missions. Dropping steel and lightning from above in a true blitzkrieg fashion. Youth, determination, and a lack of fear is what had contributed to his rise in ranks, of only for his special missions. Given no true command, the rank was more a formality than a status.

His latest mission.....utilizing a small contingency of fighters, and what was code named “the asset”, fly in and hit Safron City hard and fast. Take out, or at the very least cripple the largest city in Kanto to turn the tides in Jhoto’s favor. What had been a closed room mission however, turned into a blood bath. The table completely turned his squadron was attacked from below before they could even start.

His only comfort was he only had one pokemon on him that was his own, so he’d lost very little.......the downside was.....that pokemon was code named the asset, and it was a very big downside. Breathing in and taking stock of the rest of his physical condition, he could tell he was in no condition to attempt anything more than rest.....at least for the time being.

In the distance there was a loud roar, and a crashing of light against the darkness of his cell. His hair actually stood on end for a moment from the electricity pulsing through the air......a quick smile. This was bad......but it wasn’t over. There were always contingencies.

Shifting his weight from foot to foot every so often, Private Azul Ashida's gaze wandered up and down the cell block's hallway. There was nothing new to see, and yet his eyes traced and retraced the same bits of bland, colorless masonry without fail. Indeed, the only place the boy's curiosity dare not indulge was the cell directly at his back which he hadn't spared even a glance since the start of his shift. After all, he'd heard tales of the warfighters from Johto; they could kill with a glance and cared little for human or Pokemon life.

Back in the barracks with his squad, he'd laughed off such stories as childish in the extreme and yet now, when he found himself alone on guard duty, the black-haired, fair-skinned seventeen year old couldn't bring himself to test such claims. In fact, were it not for the comforting weight of his partner, Zip, perched on his shoulder the private would not feel nearly as at ease as he did now. Zip, the Pidgey, had been with the Kanto native since the beginning; they were drafted together, went through boot camp together, and were now inseparable.

Neither Azul nor Zip were anyone or anything important. They didn't have any titles, any merits or any status; they were naught but two of the thousands upon thousands who were swept up in a war they didn't quite understand. All the duo knew and cared about was making it to the end of the conflict—they'd seen the fate of those who didn't make it first hand in Celadon and, invariably, relived it every night in twisted nightmares of a paradise lost.

Gwahoooooooooooo!!!

Flinching at the sound of the distant roar and turning around in time for his sharp boyish features to be illuminated by the light from outside, Azul caught his first fleeting glimpse of the man he'd been tasked with watching over. It was a man: muddied, bloodied, and bandaged but a man nonetheless, the enemy. Before he could capture any further details about the prisoner, however, instinct and training had him turning back around again to face the featureless wall. He then resumed his ultimately meaningless task of finding flaws in the mortar.

He looked so...normal.

Security in the holding cells was tight, it had to be if prisoners taken from other regions were to be kept safely isolated away from the world where no one could see what became of them or their evil Pokemon. These Johto and Hoenn scum were easy enough to recognize with their strange evolved monsters that were more feral than a companion.

In fact, the troop that has successfully captured and contained Gin Arashi had been lead by a particularly zealous Captain who proffered using his Kadabra to make prisoners relive their worst moments long past the point his victims could keep their mind.

That very same Kadabra had been used multiple times on "The Asset" locked overheard, its target near exhausted but unable to faint and be contained in the safety of a pokeball through the vile use of toxins that left it hanging just on the edge of consciousness, ready to endure the torture all over again.

The Captain and partner of the Kadabra looked forwards to treating The Asset's carrier in a similar fashion when he was done here. It would be exactly what the Johto swine deserved for trying to contaminate the sanctity of Moon Mountain.

Sadly, the Captain's hopes were dashed fifteen minutes later when the sound of hard boots stomping up into the holding cells permeated the echoe-y space above and below.

"Orders to transport the prisoner," a voice boomed. "You, Pidgey fucker, unlock the door and bring him to the van. Our guest here is heading to Miss K's."

The Captain smiled, turning to his Kadabra once more. They only needed the captive, not his asset. And from what the Captain had heard of Miss K, the prisoner was headed for a far worse fate.

With a quick one handed pat down his vest and pants, he continued to notice the absence of any tool or gear. Shame.....his mind listed towards his rotom and where the devil it could be. Could have been captured, but he doubted if. The little ghost had a way of hiding and jumping through appliance to appliance until it made its way to a proper spot. The creature had been his most trusted companion since his military career had began, and he trusted it completely. He had faith it would turn up when he could use him most, and not a moment before.

Another crash and static as a door was opened, a gruff voice barking orders at the lad outside his cell. Attempting to stand Gin was able to make his way, all be it a little off balanced, to his feet and stumble forwards. It was hard to hear but he caught the sound of someone yelling, a Miss K, and orders to transport.

A frown crossed his lips, he didn’t like the idea of being away from the asset. He hadn’t known it long, but they had an undeniable chemistry that had already aided in so many missions. He’d been honored to handle the Raiku, and to leave such a rare creature locked away like this......what a shame. “I’ll be back....” Gin would whisper to no one. A promise voiced was a promise to be kept.

His shuffle was made as quite and discreet as he could make it, before leaning his head against the bars. “Sooooo how we gonna do this?” He’d ask the pidgey trainer in what he hoped was a cool nonchalant voice. It was hard to tell, his ears still were ringing and everything sounded as though it was under water. In front of the boy more men started to file in. Looks like he wasn’t just going to have a single escort......shame............there was a lot of shame around here.

Captain Zinter Ashigawa was, by all counts, a vile man. Feared by those below him for his cruelty and praised by his superiors for his effectiveness, he worked between the margins of acceptability and good conscience in a world of gray or, at least, that's probably how he thought of it. It was no secret that the man had a bit of an ego. That said, Private Ashida knew his place and when a Captain spoke he compiled, no matter his opinions of said captain.

"Yes, sir," Azul's voice cracked, his face flushed, and Zip cooed on his shoulder. It would seem that another peaceful afternoon was not in the cards, for the prisoner was to be transferred. Fumbling with the bindings on his belt, he produced the metal shackles every guard was issued and hoped they would never have to use—prisoner transfers were a bureaucratic headache for all involved.

"Arms out," Azul barked with all the command his slim form could muster as he turned to the prisoner. Assuming the prisoner complied, he would soon be shackled, his cell opened, and his form escorted out of the prison block to the waiting van. Then, in no time at all, the vehicle was on the move; Private Ashida, Captive Arashi, and three other escorts, who had tagged along per protocol, would soon arrive at the residence of Miss K—a figure Azul had only heard stories of, whispers in the barracks, and nothing more.