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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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Old 06-15-2007, 03:39 AM
Neo Emolga's Avatar
Neo Emolga Offline
 
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Default [WAR VI] The Repentant Shadow



Prologue
The Rebel Rejected

I’m not proud of myself. No one in my position should be. My list of enemies is expansive above everyone else’s. My list of allies is absolutely nothing. I even fear myself at times.

I’m not like all the others, caught between the dark and the light, yearning for the last hope that many of my kind dread and no longer seek. Because of that, I am distanced between both, outcast by one, and scorned by the other. I have been like this for years, known as a reject, a disgrace, and a traitor. But I’m not the fool some people think I am. Unless a fool is someone who has goals and dreams that go beyond all odds. My hope is a distant one. To step away from the evil I had once known, to hopes of following the light.

Going against the instincts I had once known were difficult. Somehow, somewhere… determination was putting up a winning battle against the forces that willed me to do evil. It was difficult, I needed to remove myself from everything sinister and wicked I had ever known. It had pecked away at me for the longest time, and indeed, for a very long time, I was tried and subjected to do its will.

But something stopped me. Something made me change…

I used to be one of the worst. The accursed… the dread reaper. A sadistic killing machine that was so impure, it would cause normal people to spit in disgust. I was one of Hell’s dark, fallen angels. At times, the will of self control is gone. I don’t remember how much damage I’ve done, who I hurt, and what I defiled. I see it all in hot flashes, and I live to regret it.

Hell expected me to be forever condemned to its ways. I almost was, but something managed to break me free of it. Even in the darkest depths of the Abyss, a photo album was left behind on the rocky, pitted ground. The damned would always try to bring personal possessions. They never kept anything. And believe it not, I was in charge of cleaning up the filth. Hell’s garbage collector. I could scale the world for thousands of years, and not find anyone who would want that job.

That photo album depicted scenes. Smiles, pleasure, and trust. Family, I saw faces of humans and Pokémon, delighted in each other. Normally, I would have laughed at it as I wanted it burn from the flames in my fingertips, but I couldn’t. Not after being so hideously miserable. If there was a fragment of my wicked self that was actually good, it was swollen for a moment with the view of that. I was supposed to be uncompassionate, evil, and unyielding. Hell screwed up. I was their screw up, the dark angel that looked like he’d be evil forever when really… he was capable of falling into the wrong hands. Good hands…

I managed to escape it. Escape Hell, only because I was one of the few that could, one of the few that was expected to travel between Hell and Earth and raise chaos. They tried to chase me, send me back down, and condition me to become like them again, but I did something that would show I was incapable of doing it all again.

As soon as I came upon the face of the Earth as my disgusting, evil self, I did it. I saved the lives of four people in a gray minivan, crossing the road prematurely as a random jaywalker to make them stop early to avoid hitting an out of control bus that they didn’t know was coming, but I did. They were meant to die that day, all four of them. I robbed Hell of four more victims, made them appreciate life that day when they found out they could have died from a car accident that was supposed to happen, and with that, it was impossible for Hell’s minions to pull me back in. I was too pure for them now. But at the same time, I was still far too dark for the will of Heaven. Maybe even hopelessly that way.

They never said a word to me, but I realized what I had done. I saw their faces, the faces of those I saved. I realized the appreciation for life would make them better people. They didn’t know who I really was or why I had been there, thinking I was just another human.

My dark pursuers saw me, interrupt Hell’s intentions, and save lives. They were disgusted, but for the first time, I took pleasure in their disgust. I was doing everything they never wanted me to do. I had rebelled against the rebellion. And like that photo album, I had gained the impossible. The ability to appreciate human life, the preservation of the human smile, and the ability… to love, rather than enslave. I had embraced all the things no fallen angel was supposed to see or feel.

Three hours later, I had managed to save two more lives, playing the anonymous man. Two hikers had lost their way in the ash-covered plains near Falarbor Town in Hoenn. I knew they were surprised to see me, another being appearing to be human so far out from where they were. I managed to get them back to town, and at first, it was to rebel against the ones who forced me into wicked servitude. Hell intended for both of them to die on that mountain top. They wanted them to suffer in starvation, hoping to find a way back when it was never supposed to be. Instead, I saved them. I took them back to town, never saying anything except asking them to follow. When we arrived back, I knew they would survive, and they appreciated what I did for them.

“You must be an angel.” He told me, thanking me graciously, “You saved our lives.”

It was true. I was an angel, but not the one he was thinking of. He offered money, but I turned around and walked away, saying nothing. It left me thinking if there was actually a way to remove all the defilement I had upon myself. Many millions of years ago, there was no evil, and even I was once a pure angel, with no wickedness. But I couldn’t even remember it, as if it was non-existent. My vision was clear though. I needed to stop evil from trying to pull me back into their realm, and defy them in every way possible. For all the misery they gave me, I would do everything I could to rebel against them. Hell never was a home. It was only a prison. I hated them, and they hated me. And the way to defeat them was to never give them satisfaction. They believed I would never be able to do it, and I was ready to prove them wrong.

But it in turn made me think about the opposite side. I was made to think Heaven as an enemy. Plagued with a sadistic and tormenting mind, it was difficult to focus. The defiled and villainous Pokémon I had were now destroyed by my own hands. The corrupt and savage Mightyena, the wickedly infernal Banette, and the murderous and bloodthirsty Absol I had… were now gone. Hell’s Pokéballs looks like something someone would put at the end of a rod to make it a blunt weapon. The putrid black color, the thorns, barbs, and spikes, and the razors haphazardly sticking out of the spherical surface. All I needed was a few minutes with a hydraulic press, and all three of them were smashed to pieces. I didn’t need anything or anyone that would try and pull me back into evil. Upon their smashed ruins, I saw a black liquid among the shattered and twisted fragments, like black blood. The maintenance crew would mistake the fragments for a destroyed machine, and the black blood of my corrupted Pokémon for oil. They would never know what really went on, and it was better that way.

My human form was for deceptive purposes. In truth, I was really a gray-skinned fallen angel with night-black feathered wings, wicked horns out of my head, and with sickly dark iron armor with thorns and barbs everywhere and slashed surfaces in the metal plates. Long black hair like an oil slick, hideous, bleeding fangs, and black, vicious claws was everything I hated about my true self. I wasn’t supposed to stay human for this long. Again, all part of defying the forces of darkness. I had managed to go for an entire year without going back. I was the dark source of hope, the black tunnel that lead to light, and the long, shaded bridge that lead to salvation. But the bigger question was… would it even be possible for me to take the road myself? Or was I doomed to stay off the road, but leading the way for others? Like the traffic cop that never ended his shift?

Either way, it was far better to be alone, scorned, and in the desert of fates than it was to be in Hell. That was one walk I would never be able to take again, and refused to. However, that was the one thing I would never have to worry about. I was too good for them now, caught at the low end of the middle. I knew what Hell was like, what terrors were ahead. I knew how bad it really was, and how awful the mistake of forsaking salvation would be. I didn’t want those who could stop a thing from happening to face… what I had to face.

My road was alone now. In time, maybe I too would change. I didn’t know for sure, for there were no others like me who had followed this dark path before. I was stepping into the unknown of reality, to see what Earth was really like, and what the test that would be eternity was really like for people.

I’ve lived in my deformation long enough. I didn’t want to see what happened to me… happen to anyone else…
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