Sorry for the delay-I was trying to think of a good time to post this and I didn't have time yesterday ^^; So here's the next chapter. (It's a little long. )
The Path of Destiny
Chapter 36-Into the Canyon
Cyclone had always hated humans.
Sure, he had once had a trainer for a period of time, but he had put up with it because the trainer could provide him with things he needed which he could not get anywhere else.
An evolution stone, to name one such thing.
Cyclone felt no guilt at abandoning his previous master in the desert with the rest of his pokémon. Humans as a species were cruel, and the fact that his trainer was a nice person did not change the fact that humans took pokémon away from their homes and thought nothing of it.
Apart from his trainer, Cyclone had not met any particularly nice humans. He had been born in a city where eevee had become incredibly common through breeding. As a result, many eevee, namely males, were left unwanted.
Cyclone grew up on the streets of the city, along with his parents who had been thrown out of their humans’ home because they had become too old to breed. He was their last child, yet no one had purchased him simply because he looked small and week for an eevee his age, and many of the humans wanted females.
Though he lived a meager existence on the filthy streets of a crowded city, life was not bad to him because he knew no different. His parents had never been given the chance to evolve, but although they were still only eevee they did their best to protect him. They strived to make his hard life happy, and despite living in such awful conditions, both of his parents discovered a new joy at finally being able to raise one of their pups themselves instead of having him taken away by the humans at a very young age.
At this stage of life Cyclone felt that everything was one big adventure, and his parents helped him see it that way. Whether they were digging through garbage for scraps or finding somewhere to shelter from the rain, Cyclone’s mother and father always made it into a game for him. At many times it kept him calm even in the worst of situations. He was about as happy as a nameless stray eevee in the midst of a massive crowded city could be.
One day when Cyclone and his parents were walking back to one of the many different places on the streets they called ‘home’, the three eevee were unexpectedly chased by a growlithe and in their panic, veered off into another street. It wasn’t long before the growlithe stopped chasing them, but the eevee were exhausted. Cyclone had complained about it being cold, so they started to head back. Cyclone hadn’t recognized anything around him, and it had been getting dark. He had been scared.
Cyclone’s father then suddenly let out a warning cry, and the three eevee bolted as a couple of teenage humans strode into view. The first human had spotted the eevee and ran forward, grabbing the tail of Cyclone’s father as he darted by. Frightened, the young eevee’s mother had told him to hide as she rushed to confront the humans holding her mate.
It was a futile effort-both of the humans had pokémon and easily defeated the small eevee. Though Cyclone had been young, he remembered distinctly from the humans’ words that both of them considered the now common eevee species ‘unwanted vermin’ and were tired of seeing endless amounts of eevee being adopted into trainers’ teams or being left to run freely through the city. Therefore, they decided to let their pokémon have a little fun with the ‘common vermin’.
The two trainers then sent out their pokémon, ordering them to attack the two older eevee, and from his hiding place, Cyclone watched as his parents were tortured and killed before his very eyes.
A little less than a day later, Cyclone was found by a trainer-a young boy who brought him to his house and cared for him. Cyclone hated and feared the human, but it was thanks to him that he survived. Having nowhere else to go and knowing that a trainer was his ticket away from the awful city where he had been raised, Cyclone reluctantly decided to join him.
In the years he stayed with his trainer, Cyclone made many attempts to escape after being given one of the things he wanted-evolution. All of these attempts failed and the boy’s other pokémon tried to convince him to stay, and Cyclone agreed, though in his mind, he knew it would only just be until he got stronger.
Secretly, he taught himself to hunt, as he knew that one day he would no longer rely on humans for food. He hated the silly nickname given to him by his trainer, and began to call himself Cyclone, in honor of his evolution.
Throughout the years Cyclone had seen pokémon being pushed past their limits in battle, beaten, or even accidentally killed during a match. He was blind to the examples of kind trainers around him-he did not believe that humans could be kind. His trainer, he believed, was only using him to win battles and earn money.
Cyclone’s hatred of humans increased when one day he witnessed sections of a forest being cut down, and the obvious homes of pokémon destroyed. He was further enraged when the surviving pokémon were captured and brought back to the city.
His trainer hadn’t done anything to stop these humans.
It was only when they had gotten lost in a desert that Cyclone finally abandoned his trainer and the other pokémon, leaving them without water. He had needed it for himself more.
After a long while of walking, he realized that he was lost. Soon he had collapsed, and that was when he had found the green stone. Out of curiosity and fascination, he had reached forward and touched it. The stone sent violent energy surging throughout his body. The energy was so raw and powerful that he had passed out from the shock.
When he had awoken, he had felt a new life flowing through his veins. No longer did he feel tired or weak, and the energy lasted him long enough to find his way out of the desert. At some point during this time, he had remembered a story his trainer had once told the pokémon, and realized with fascination what this could be. A Forbidden Attack
The story had been vague, and his trainer had only been interested in describing each of the attacks and what they did. Cyclone had heard a voice whisper to him upon first touching the stone, and he had tried his attack out. The description in the story had matched almost perfectly. Acidstorm
From then on, he began formulating a plan, which led him to quickly seek out someone knowledgeable about the legend of the Forbidden Attacks. He had soon found such a pokémon.
Now, with a vast army at his side, Cyclone sat atop a grassy hill, his sleek, short fur wet after a morning of hunting. He was waiting for any reports of the whereabouts of the houndour Blazefang, who possessed Shadowflare but had been unwilling to join the army. The vaporeon had decided that the attack needed to be taken by force.
Blazefang needed to die.
As Cyclone sat on the cool, damp grass, he picked up the sound of some of his followers approaching. He stood up and walked over to them, hoping for news of the houndour.
Instead, the tyranitar he had appointed to watch one of the cave’s exits threw a wounded scyther at his feet. Cyclone’s eyes widened the tiniest fraction in what one might expect to be shock. The scyther’s back and arms had been burned horribly, leaving flesh and muscle exposed in some places. The vaporeon stood staring, but he hid his disgust well, retaining his usual calm and emotionless expression.
“Why have you brought this scyther here?” he asked, his voice betraying the faintest hint of annoyance. “Scyther aren’t prey, and this one is no use to us as a fighter. Unless he has a good reason to be here, throw him into the canyon and tell me what you’ve found by the cave.”
“Oh he has a good reason to be here all right!” the female scyther who Cyclone already greatly trusted, and who was called Silverbreeze, told him with a smile on her face. “He was part of the group that the houndour went with into the cave. A crobat led him out of the cave so we know that the cave pokémon are helping them. He ought to know where the others, and Blazefang, have gone.”
“Hm…well then, good job,” Cyclone complimented, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his face. “But let me guess…he wouldn’t tell you anything so you brought him here?”
“Yes, Cyclone,” Silverbreeze replied respectfully.
“Oh, but you’ll soon get him to talk, right?” the tyranitar asked, giving the motionless scyther a small kick. Stormblade groaned and tried to move away.
Cyclone regarded Stormblade as if he was some particularly dirty piece of filth that disgusted him and which he had no intention of touching or getting closer to. The vaporeon turned to Silverbreeze. “Get Solus,” he ordered. “And you,” he added to the tyranitar, “bring anyone from the army who isn’t on duty here as well.”
Not wanting to question him, Silverbreeze and the tyranitar ran off.
Cyclone watched as the army gathered below the hill. He turned toward Solus, who was grinning widely.
“Hey Cyclone,” the espeon asked, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. “Do you really think this scyther knows where Blazefang is?”
“It’s possible,” Cyclone replied calmly. “Now remember, do whatever you want, just don’t kill
him. I’m going to have a word with the army.” The vaporeon turned and walked to the hill, while the espeon darted excitedly beside him.
Stormblade could barely register what had happened, but at some point, he had been knocked out and dragged to the very top of the hill after coming face to face with the army’s leader, Cyclone. Now he lay in the wet grass beneath the slowly setting sun, some sort of tough vines tied around his arms just below the base of the scythes, and around his snout. He assumed from Cyclone and Solus’s actions that he was about to be made an example of. He had made up his mind to ignore his fear and remain defiant. After all, despite the fact that the espeon had tried to read his mind, Cyclone was still going to have him tortured, and would have even if Solus’s attempt had been successful-he had gathered the army there for a reason.
Stormblade did not know why Solus’s mind reading attempt did not work. From what he had heard from Cyclone himself, the espeon had perfected his mind reading ability to the point where he could read the minds of unevolved dark types, although he still couldn’t hurt them with actual attacks. However, when Solus had tried it on Stormblade, it hadn’t worked. Solus had discovered some of Stormblade’s other memories-being locked out in the snow by Justin, teaching Spark how to hunt, lying on a bed in the pokémon center, his talk with Thunder…but no matter how deep into his mind the espeon had delved, he could not see any of the memories regarding Blazefang. Stormblade was not sure why this was so-he hadn’t been strong enough to resist it in any way, but he had deeply frustrated Solus and it had been easy to see that the former Rocket espeon had been both humiliated and furious. Now that his interrogation was about to start however, Solus seemed to be in a much better mood. Solus had known that Stormblade was the scyther Blazefang had attacked-he had seen it in Blazefang’s memory. Stormblade had heard him telling Cyclone about it.
The scyther lay miserably on the ground as Cyclone called out to the pokémon assembled below, his words magnified into the minds of every pokémon present by Solus’s psychic abilities.
“Now I know you’re wondering why I told you to come here,” Cyclone began, his calm, level voice intensifying within Stormblade’s own head, “I know that some of you have witnessed what happens to traitors…but now I will show you all what happens to those who refuse to aid us in our quest to stop the humans.” He turned to Solus and nodded.
The espeon padded lightly over to Stormblade, removing the vine around his mouth by snapping it with his teeth. “Let’s hope for your sake that you’re one of the smart ones…the ones who say what Cyclone wants to know right from the start,” he muttered.
Stormblade ignored him. He knew that no matter what he did, Cyclone had brought the army here to see Solus torture someone, and that wasn’t going to change.
The espeon backed up, turning to look at Cyclone and the two pokémon who had come to stand by his side-the tyranitar and the scyther Silverbreeze. Solus smiled, revealing pointed fangs. “Well then, let’s begin.”
Stormblade jerked back as some sort of very intense white hot, pulsating pain filled his head, and he thrashed in agony, gouging the grass and earth with his scythes as he did so. It felt as if some powerful fire type was shoving long, red-hot claws deep into his head. As he struggled on the ground, he caught a fleeting glimpse of Solus standing rigid as if in deep concentration-his eyes a fiercely glowing light blue.
All at once the pain stopped. Stormblade gasped for breath, looking up as Solus approached him. “So,” the espeon stated casually, his eyes returning to their normal black. “Where is that houndour?”
Stormblade thought frantically to himself, trying to think of something convincing. A wave of agonizing pain rushed through his head again, though this time it was gone almost as soon as it had started.
“No, lying wouldn’t be a good idea,” the espeon snarled. “Tell us the truth.”
Stormblade hesitated, the memory of the others waiting at the side of the underground lake coming involuntarily to the front of his mind. Solus made no move or response other than a frustrated growl-he couldn’t read the memory.
“I know I can’t read it!” Solus shrieked, his claws digging into the ground in rage. “But I know that you know it! Where is he?”
Several of the pokémon watching below exchanged confused glances with each other, and shifting nervously, hoping the scyther would tell Solus. Some wanted the houndour to be part of the army as much as Cyclone did, and others simply didn’t want to watch this anymore.
“I can tell what you’re thinking,” Solus told Stormblade angrily. “You’re afraid to tell because you don’t want your friends in danger, don’t want Cyclone to have the attack…well let me tell you…YOU DON’T HAVE A CHOICE!”
Stormblade shrieked in agony as the pain returned, twice as intense. “TELL US!” Solus roared, but the scyther could barely hear him over the pain that filled his head and mind, forcing away all other thoughts. He couldn’t hear Solus anymore. In fact, he could no longer tell if he was still screaming, or if he was really only screaming in his mind. Nothing he did lessened or worsened the agony-it was just one steady stream of constant pain.
Once again the pain suddenly stopped, and Stormblade was left lying shivering on the ground. Through his dazed vision the scyther could see Solus’s cat-like form approaching him.
“Well?” the espeon asked, looking at him through blazing blue eyes.
Stormblade did not move. No matter what happened to him, he simply couldn’t bring himself to put his friends in danger. And if he said nothing, there was no way these pokémon could find out where the others were.
The corners of Solus’s mouth twisted into an almost insane grin. “No one being tortured ever remains heroic and noble for long,” the espeon smirked, and Stormblade felt a strange sensation, and realized that he was being slowly lifted into the air by some sort of strange blue glow originating from Solus’s psychic attack.
Stormblade was completely unable to move, save for his eyes which darted from side to side in both horror and fear. He noticed that he was being moved through the air toward a large boulder nearby.
Solus turned his head toward the side slightly, and Stormblade was suddenly slammed against the side of the boulder. Solus moved his head again and Stormblade moved away from it in the air, only to be sent crashing against it again. This time the espeon tilted his head slightly downward, watching as Stormblade, who had his back against the rock, was slowly dragged down its rough surface through the air. The scyther could make no sound, but Solus was sure that if he could, he might find that having his burn wounds ripped open by jagged rock enough of an incentive to give him the information he wanted. Solus released Stormblade from the psychic attack, allowing him to fall roughly to the ground. The rock beside him was smeared with blood.
Some of the watching pokémon either looked away or looked down at the grass as Solus walked over to the cringing scyther. Stormblade could feel a lot of blood running down his back, and he lay gritting his teeth together, trying not to make any sound.
“Are you ready to give us the answer?” Solus asked him.
“Yes…” Stormblade gasped. “They escaped through the tunnel they first went in through…got past the guards…they’re headed-”
!” Solus snarled.
Stormblade felt himself lifting back up into the air only to be slammed back into the ground, but this time he was so dazed from the pain of the Shadowflare wounds that he hardly felt it. Solus’s psychic energy lifted him upright again, so that Stormblade was forced to stare into the espeon’s glowing eyes. Solus inclined his head slightly to the right, and Stormblade heard a snapping, tearing sound as one of his wings was bent almost completely backwards and then twisted by the psychic energy holding him in the air. A moment later he was sent crashing against the rock, and the psychic glow around him faded. Painfully the scyther tried to get to his feet, only to be knocked down by an iron tail attack from Solus.
“Where is he?” the espeon hissed, his glowing aqua eyes narrowing to brightly blazing slits.
Stormblade didn’t respond, but closed his eyes and curled up on the ground, much to Solus’s annoyance.
The espeon’s eyes glowed brighter, almost white, but this time Stormblade felt no pain. Instead, images of his friends-his current traveling companions as well as friends in his past, flashed through his mind, each of them maimed horribly and dying in their own blood.
(Continued in next post)