Crepe's Short Story Bin

Author Comments :: This story was a a challenge to see if I could get a short story done in one day. Not much to say about this story, but it is definitely a good first attempt. The end of the story could have used some better elaboration, but this was supposed to be a one-day challenge. Nonetheless, this was a good exploration into character interaction. Expect some errors, as I do not have any time to edit tonight. Total Estimated Time :: approx. 6 hours.

Another day, another risk. That's what she gets for entering one of Hoenn's towns. The dilapidated buildings of Rustboro could hide many secrets both good and bad. The only reason she has come to one of these forsaken places is to find some replacement supplies. The blade of her hatchet is going dull on her after a few months of use, and food has been scarce in this section of Hoenn for many miles.

After a quick scout around the edges of the town, she has a plan of attack. The town itself is only partially intact; the roadways have been disturbed by multiple earthquakes, and some of the buildings have been ruined after extended use as survivor defenses. With her entry and her exits planned out, she and her two pokemon enter the town.

The Human's bare feet do not welcome the transition from smooth, soft dirt to hard, rough asphalt. She chose to enter an alleyway between two intact buildings under the close cover of the surrounding forest. She steps carefully around a patch of broken glass. Along a sash at her side, her Honedge companion Brandy shifts to her careful gait. He is ready to cut anyone or anything that appears. In her arms, she cradles a young Riolu. Even though his eyes are closed, he is as tense as her as he scans the surrounding area for other sources of aura.

The riolu shifts uncomfortably in his trainer's arms. The feeling was mutual; the only sounds they could here were the nearby shoreline and the coastal winds. She could only imagine what he must be feeling right now. The Human goes up a small flight of steps leading to a backdoor entrance to the building on the left. Is it safe, Sue? She wonders. The riolu opens his eyes and returns a feeling of approval. She carefully tries the door's hinge. It is unlocked. She opens the door, looks around in the darkness. She creeps inside, keeping the door partially open behind her.

The inside of the single-floor warehouse smells fresh. The house itself is a veritable fortress of crates, bags, and pallets. Many of them have been opened. She puts down Sue and investigates the closest ones. Inside she finds nothing but packing foam and torn fabrics.

"Brandy, can you help me find some supplies?"
"Yes, Miss Calvin." The honedge withdraws from his scabbard and begins investigating any open crates he can find.
"Sue, keep watch. There's no telling what could be hiding here."
"Alright mom."

A few containers later and still no dice. All they found was more packing foam and some useless supplies. She grumbles and carefully sets down yet another empty crate. Surprise crosses her face as she sees something just in the corner of a far set of crates: A nice, large crowbar sits against a large stack of crates, basking in the light beaming from a breach in the nearby wall.

Calvin steps about the crates in her way and makes a beeline for the precious tool. She holds it up to the light, giddy at the sight of her new favorite weapon.

Her smile disappears when a feeling of dread falls upon her. Recognizing it as a warning from Sue, she immediately crouches down beside the crates. She can hear something rustling at the far end of the warehouse. As soon as the three of them had dove for cover, all sounds at the other side stopped. Shit, she thought. Don't tell me someone heard us?

Sue trades concerns with her. They do not know what else is in here with them. Whatever it is, it isn't Undead; Sue can sense those things even from far away. Maybe it's an early infected or, less likely, other survivors? Another sound echoes through the warehouse; this one sounds much closer than the previous. Whatever it is, it's moving fast and in their general direction. She draws up the crowbar and warns Sue to alert Brandy. Looks like they are going to have to improvise an ambush.

The sounds stop just a few feet away from her position, on the other side of the crate stack. Readying her crowbar, she keeps careful watch on the corner and on her barrier, in case they try to topple them on her.

As soon as she sees something round the corner, she rises up and sends the crowbar downwards. An unseen force forces the weapon to a halt and then yanks it from her powerful grasp. She can hear an audible swing as Brandy flies past her and clangs against a metallic surface. Something throws itself out from the other side of the crates. She is now standing uncomfortably close to a Machoke. Before he can seize her, a ball of energy slams into the right side of its face and temporarily dazes it. She turns back and makes a desperate leap across the pile to her right. The jump nearly causes her to crash into a mountain of metal debris. After regaining her momentum, she turns around. Only for her to stare down the remorseless barrel of a pistol. The man wielding it seems very displeased.

"Call off your Honedge, woman. Or I will shoot."
In the distance, she can see Brandy locking swords with the arms of a Gallade. He is currently winning.
"I said call him off." The man impatiently repeats.
"Brandy, stop fighting!" He acknowledges her request, and both he and the Gallade make plenty of space between each other.
The man seems to loosen up a bit, but he keeps the gun drawn to her head. "Now, who the fuck are you?"
She keeps her posture straight, and remains calm. "Calvin Mikal. Survivor and former ranger."
"Frederick Preston. Former pokemon breeder. You're here for supplies?"

"Yes. Just for supplies."
The sudden collapse of a nearby set of crates draws his attention away from her. His pistol whips from her head to Sue, who had gotten just a bit too curious about the situation. Sue's eyes go wide with fear. "Mom!" In an act of desperation, Calvin wrestles with the man for his gun. The firearm goes off as it slips from his hand, the bullet nicking a section of her hair. She quickly draws out an emergency switchblade from her belt and brandishes the blade to his neck while she pins him against a large box.

"And maybe something to kill, since you nearly shot my child."
"Mom, don't hurt him!" The words hit her hard, but she keeps her stance. "Silence, Sue."
"Listen to your kid, Calvin. Please."
"Shut up."
"Please, mom." She hears Sue pattering closer. She is staring widely at the man. "He's afraid. He was just surprised. He just wants to talk this out."
The man is beginning to sweat. There is not much he can do without sustaining grievous injuries.
She looks to his waist. There are no weapons visible. She might have disarmed him. He's still got the advantage, though. Those Pokemon are powerful.
"First, tell your Pokemon to get back."
He does so. She can hear them making distance.

Working against her better judgement, she relaxes herself. With the knife still drawn towards him, she backs off of him. He makes no movement until she makes room for him to safely return to his Pokemon. After putting her switchblade back in its proper place, she touches at the place where the bullet grazed her head. Fortunately, the only thing it managed to damage was her hair. She picks up Sue, and hugs him in relief when she sees no injuries on him. Brandy gives a brief bow of thanks to Calvin, and then returns to his scabbard.

She sighs away her stress, and walks forward. The man also walks forward, his pokemon close behind him.
She offers a handshake to him. He receives it, and smiles kindly. Sue smiles back to him.

"You have a good kid there, Calvin. Sorry for the rough-up."
"It's alright, Frederick; mistakes happen. And thank you." She gives her best grin, which isn't saying much given how embarrassingly crooked they are.
"You can keep the crowbar if you want; I've already got one of my own."
"Really?" He chuckles at her eagerness. She grimaces, though, when she realizes something:

"I... uuh, don't really have anything to give to you. We're sorta starved on supplies. That's why we came to Rustboro in the first place."
Frederick nods understandingly. "It's fine. I know how it feels; I was here for the same reason. Feel free to take some stuff from here; I've already got what I wanted." He leans against a nearby object. "Me and my team will be leaving Rustboro soon. We're looking for a new place to set up camp."
"Really? So soon?" She frowns, and sits down on a nearby crate. He does the same. "If you help me find the supplies I need, you could set up camp near my own for the night. We have plenty of defenses there, and the additional support would help us both."
He contemplates her offer for a moment. "Yeah, that could work."

They continue talking as she and her team go about finding the supplies they need. Sue and Brandy enjoy conversing with Frederick's companions, Mary the Machoke and Paulson the Gallade. After about half a day's work of browsing the warehouse, both teams found what they wanted and returned to Calvin's camp for the night. The chance to be on friendly terms with another team made for a pleasant change.

Author's Note :: Dunno what I'm writing here, really. It's an aimless, on-the-spot pokemon-based writing prompt that I think shows just enough promise to post here. Most of it was inspired by the Five Nights at Freddy's videogame series, for reasons that will be revealed if I decide to continue it. It will likely turn into something horror-based, and use EJ as a setting.

A man lounges in his beach chair, taking a sip of his water as he watches the sun set. The waves are beautiful today. The brilliant orange mixes so well with the golden sand and the radiant sun. This beach was always his favorite relaxation spot.

It was times like this that reminded him of how worthwhile living was.
The waves wash over the shoreline, and the cries of distant seabirds can be heard.
Today was particularly windy, and the air is very humid.
In the distance, a storm can be seen preparing itself.
If only he had someone to admire it with him.
She always did love the beach. He did, too. Margaret always did look good in a swimsuit. She thought he did, too.
He takes another sip from his water. But that was the past. Now, he is in the present.

As beautiful as this sunset is, he has to get going. There are plenty of things he needs to do at his workplace. The man rises from his seat. Leaving the chair behind, he returns to his beach house home. Dewford Town was a lovely place to live; quiet, busy, quaint. It's been four years since he moved here, and he does not regret it.

He finishes the day with a quick shower and a brushing of his teeth.
Before he goes to sleep, he takes a visit to the computer room. He rarely used the computer nowadays; it was mostly used for printing and writing. There was a document in here he needed for next day's job. He goes to the closet to retrieve it.
Something lands on him, causing him to briefly panic. Fright turns to disappointment, as he realizes that he was tackled by a human-sized lopunny doll. He throws it aside, cursing breathlessly as he does so. Margaret should've burned that thing years ago. Damn thing's so creepy. Why did he even get it for her? Why does he bother keeping it around? He forgot that he had stuffed it in here after he got sick of its endless staring. This house was so small it was not easy trying to find places to shove it into.

With the papers set onto the computer room desk, he went to his room and changed into some night clothes.
Soon after, he falls asleep.

The slender figure walks among the wreckage of Hearthome City, Sinnoh. She had entered this place on a whim. She considered browsing the store ruins for supplies, but the nostalgic reflex only made her remember her situation. Unfortunately, she was now dead. How long has it been since she died?

Six days ago. Yes, three whole days ago. When she woke up in darkness with nobody around, she knew something was wrong. She spent the first night in a literal blind panic, fearful of what had and could still happen to her. Although she was in a panic, though, her heart budged not even in the slightest. She started at any corpse that ambled too close to her. Word on the rotting grapevine earned her the nickname 'Scaredyvoir' in no time flat. After days of denial and projection, she accepted what had happened to her.

Seven days ago. Her fellow companions intended on keeping her dead, just like she wanted. An infection had set in -- she knew what it was when she saw that one of her recent wounds was coated in a foul, necrotic slime. She told her companions, and they made a grim decision about what to do. They had to do something, she insisted. Unlike some less considerate people, she was not going to sit and wait for a slow death.

They had one job. That job was to kill her. One of her companions was a scyther. Perfect for the job, and yet unable to follow through with the idea. His strike was too slow, too gentle. She fainted from pain, not from death. How pathetic, and yet how understandable. Even in an apocalypse, death was no easy subject.

And then there was the now. The her that was rotting outside and inside. This world was getting boring to her. This disease does not leave much to do, for all of its power over death. If this is supposed to be the afterlife, then Arceus really needs to rethink His plans.

There is a sound of naked footsteps, of something waddling nervously. She raises her head up.

There was a Human child wandering the streets. As far as she could tell, the child was harmless. The gardevoir had recently learned of her ravenous nature, her desire to attack anyone who was not dead like herself. She ate a Rattata the other day, fur and all. It was even more disgusting than she had imagined. Good thing she no longer has a gag reflex.
When the kid sees her, it does not run away from her. Instead, it runs towards her. It probably thinks she is alive; her wound is well-hidden by a thick red scarf. To any passerby, she still looks completely normal. Nonetheless, she tells it in straight English to leave her alone. Of course, that doesn't stop it from coming up and hugging her leg, all the while bawling like an idiot. What was this kid's problem? If it is willing to hug a corpse, then how has it survived? The situation puzzles her.

For better or for worse, her many minutes worth of attempts to shake him have failed. The kid's just too damn determined. That, and she doesn't know how to teleport. She isn't hungry, so she can't just eat him; that would be a waste. And maybe somewhere inside, seeing a Human child survive somehow in this crapsack world fills her with determination.