Begin The Begin
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The rain was a fine, diamond drizzle that sparkled over the city and danced sprucely down the sides of its huge skyscrapers and stadiums. It washed over the landscape much like a gentle breeze, easing its way in each direction with elegance and simplicity unlike any other. Below him, Nebiank stood tall - a gigantic monstrosity of a settlement that basked in the water, its many inhabitants and Pokemon hidden away safely at such a late hour. White streetlights were obscured by the soft sprinkles of water that fell towards the ground - it was a typical picturesque view of the city.
The man stared at the aquamarine world before him. His home town. His place of origin. His sanctuary. He both hated and loathed it. Longed for it, cared for it, despised it, awaited its annihilation: the taste of bittersweet fruit minced around him tauntingly. For he knew that the city would one day be in his control, but he did not know if that would be enough. With his knowledge of the Creeds, he could quite easily spearhead the project all by himself and have so much more than Nebiank - large though it may be, if such a grand scope of achievement were to land itself upon his person, Nebiank would seem of no more value than the vast, muddy fields of the south that the rain now purified and revived. No
, he thought. I couldn’t.
Nebiank was pathetic. A standing stone. A mere reminder that a higher power was at work, that he was nothing but a pawn, sent to carry out menial tasks in the hope that someday, great fortune and power would be his. Power. The downfall of man. Power hovered at the centre of the universe, tempting all who orbited it and obliterating those who tried to ignore it. Power was any honest man’s real desire. Power that he would never have. A parasitical desire that fed and leeched from his innocence.
He had received no words from his unnamed superior. Almost two weeks had passed and he had still not received an update on the Creed situation. Ridiculous. Communication, however secretive, was the key to winning many battles. This was a battle that he could not lose. Would not. A select group of unwary people now stood in his way, and the combined intelligence, desire and raw power of he and his comrade would soon wipe such an insolent, vile bug from the face of Nebiank. Down below, clustered like frightened rats and drowning in the stench of their own fear and urine, they huddled together, their animal instincts drawing them towards one central point where they would meet their collective doom. What was it that drew them there? Was it the omnipresent desire for power? Or something purer, something more?
It did not matter. He was a great cat; a great cat that would soon purge the vermin from the streets. A ferocious beast who would strike at the most opportune moment. A cleansing unlike any other. A tear through the tattered portrait of society that would replace it with his opinions, his views, his beliefs. Or, so he hoped.
The rain stopped. The sun, in all its vibrant glory, began its first attempts at peaking over the far-off hills and breaking through the crystal, sullen clouds that loomed above the area.
All was quiet in the city of Nebiank.