TEEN: The [Detriment]

[Ghostsoul]

The [Detriment] ♄
or 'the Opposition'

[Foreword]:
The idea for this story and the first attempted writing of it occurred within about on month of each other. My main purpose for what could be called, a piece of writing, arose when exploring various symbolism within the themes of the Pokemon universe in general, but more specifically Team Galactic. The symbolism I felt which was totally ignored or was just seen as unimportant by the writers, could have lead to some strange consequences if they were acknowledge. These people almost created a universe at one point (along with nearly destroying the old one) how can we just forget about them?

I am actually rather surprised in myself to be posting this, the idea for the story bounced between being a one-shot, then being a full story, then being a a short story collection with other stories that shared a common theme with. If I'll change this to being a collection, I'm not sure, but for now I do believe this story will be rather short but still not one told in a 'one-shot' format.

Being my first fic, and because of it's rather unconventional nature, this is also something I was slightly afraid to here post in general. But if I don't post anything, then I won't learn anything either. I'll just have to be daring enough.

There is some 'shipping' I guess, but that's really not the main point of the story, considering that the nature of the character's relationship has always been seen as a main motivation for the character. As it it important to the symbolism. The sense of 'shipping' will be missing by the time I get to at least the middle of this story.

The story is based after the events of 'Pokemon Generations' specifically after episode 11: 'The New World'. Saturn is left with the whole of Team Galactic under is wing, and is the only one who ever understood his boss, and the only one with the knowledge that he is alive in an indescribable place.

[Rating Information]:
Rated Teen, this is mostly for it's tones and themes as of now. If it changes, I will update this.



The [Detriment] ♄
or 'the Opposition'​

​

Set: 000 (You are here)
Set: 001
Set: 002
Set: 003 (coming soon)
​

x

Set: 000
​

When the ego can only define itself by a team’s motivations, it’s expression becomes depleted. It worries it will never make itself into something important and it latches onto a cause not its own, it becomes exiled…

“I understand”

Light and time exist within conflict. Light is rejecting its responsibilities, it lives with the attention of the whole of this earth. Time chases after it and finds that it is forced to express itself, coming into the eyes of the world, and finds that it too is exiled.

Those last words still eat me up inside.

Not many came to the funeral.

People had very swiftly forgotten my old master. Mars and Jupiter had disappeared, many of the old members of team Galactic had simple decided to flee. Either for fear of being caught for their old schemes, like cowards, or because they had refused to acknowledge me as a leader.

It was only today that I had met Cyrus’s grandfather, the only other person, aside from me, who appeared to want to remember Cyrus. He made passing comments of how Cyrus used to be a ‘bright’ yet troubled child. How his parents had forced so many restrictions upon him. How they saw the passing of time as an enemy, how they forced Cyrus into the ‘grand race of life’ too soon. He mentioned how he wanted to take the young Cyrus away from him! How he regretted it ever since…

The grave will soon be covered in ivy.

I will not leave flowers.

Will it appear I am uncommitted? Does it look like I did not care enough to even bring flowers!

Flowers are not the answer because Master Cyrus is still alive.

But there are those who just simply overlook him upon his disappearance! Cyrus, the true leader of Team Galactic! The only guide they had for so many years of their lives Yet they abandoned him. They showed no remorse when he had left them, not one of them with a clue as to what Cyrus was really going through.

Would he have forgotten me too?

The few grunts that had, rather begrudgingly chose to come to the ceremony, had now vanished. Cyrus’s grandfather had given me a quiet nod and had headed off too. I thanked him for his time, he smiled back. Now I am completely alone, as me and Cyrus often once were, I was his lieutenant-commander after all. We are alone again.

Cyrus isn’t here.

I am simply alone.

As I am left with only my thoughts.

The sun is setting now, and the subtle glows of its tired beams had scattered the ground, giving it the subtle illusion of burning. It will be some time before the night comes to put out the fire. When the fire has gone out, I decided, I will be gone with it. I’ll keep Cyrus with me, in this state, at least till the light’s end.

If Cyrus had chosen this fate himself, I think, would it have been so different? The fate of death that is. Cyrus had sought oblivion, there are many ways to find oblivion. In fact, oblivion had become his one true goal. Such as the night kills the broken sun, the light is sucked into the darkness.

I had realised I had forgot to bring a coat, I was so tied up in the methods of this grave marking. To me, every detail had to be perfect, As perfection was once my true goal; My purpose for remaining within Team Galactic. I was restricting the operation too much, was I? Sure, Mars didn’t get to ‘see’ Cyrus as much as she would have really had liked to but was all her crazy fawning necessary! And we succeeded in the end, didn’t we! Is this what success looks like? A secret I must take to my grave? Or the very end of spirit…

They must never find out.

They will never find him.

There a few moments left of mourning for me.

Morning will be soon

I cannot stay too long.

I will be asleep.

I should be asleep.

I still hold tight, what is to me, all my reckless disregard.

x​

The Galactic building was always remarkably quiet at night. It almost as if it was at peace with the nature of Veilstone City and the subtle hymns of its oblivious inhabitants. The thin mask it wore; of something beneficial to the people was in tune with its slow hums of its workers, and its weary dull metallic walls; it was as if wanted to be a part of this world, instead of a scourge on it. It had become but even more quiet, now that the mask had been lifted and since our success came at such high of a cost.

The silent, shadowed nature of the former control room was now even more evident. All the lights were switched off (they had not been switched on in months). There was nothing to track and nothing being tracked. Just the slight glimmer of metalwork and a television screen, which occasionally reflected the stars in the night sky adjacent as they gently glowed. The command station itself was covered in dust, the particles that had rested their had probably rested so long that the functioning of it had become impeded. Almost as if it was abandoned, it vibrated with an empty presence like a ghost if you will. The ghost of an entity that had lost its purpose.

This purpose, a purpose set for me to restore.

An undead entity, I have been set to kill from the inside.

One day, I will switch that screen back on. The aquatic glow of its monitors will be under my control, we’ll use to find new energy solutions, won’t we? We can stop lying to all these good people, we can make things better; without the usage of destruction, don’t we?

They aren’t here.

I am so sick of keeping secrets.

I’m sick of being the only one to know!

I can destroy this building, and with that destroy the entity within it! Destruction is it the same as being rewritten! I have been told it’s so. If I was really to take back Team Galactic, then would I really have to end it first? That’s what Cyrus would have set to me. Cyrus, At the depths of his despair! Tell me, the end was not with him?

That’s because the end must lie with me.

I am clasping onto the end; the end has no beginning.

No beginning.

I am the beginning.

The grunts had taken to their beds. Those that stayed at Team Galactic, many of them had nowhere else to go. Just like me, Mars and Jupiter also had nowhere else to go, yet they chose to run away. They had cared only for the fire of Cyrus, how he provided it, now Cyrus’s fire has gone out, they have no place here. They need to guard their own fires, something I am unable to give them. They need make sure it doesn’t overwhelm them. This fire, is overwhelming me now, because I could never control it.

The fire, it wants to be free.

Cyrus’s fire had a deep, internal almost hidden quality to it. It somehow managed to keep itself repressed, a restrained fire, acknowledged but consistent. He held the power of the sun himself, he knew that, but offered to all of us, an act of denial. An interior fire, kept with an illusion of self-restraint. A self-restraint pushed on him, rather than one he created for himself. This struggle between the illusion and flames gave birth to a grand self-destructive voice, kind of like that of a newly born star.

A star which grew to stand above us all. A star that drew us in. We revolved around him, it only made sense, the planets are merciless to the energy of the sun! They need its warmth, its pull to survive, we listen to him in his entirety.

The more I think of it, Jupiter and Mars too, had their own internal light. Mars’s was oddly reckless, it was something which pushed her to reach her goals. Many of these goals, however, were highly unplanned and sometimes not even devised by herself. She was eager, and could have been a good leader too, she was pulled in too strong, we all were. Cyrus had stolen that energy, and with words had made so he used it for himself.

Jupiter’s fire was more unstable, yet it managed to retain a blend of internal and external force. Her changeable nature was one which came with such might, that she had little time to consider any consequences of her actions she was tough and fast moving, just as lightning! She could have done so much better elsewhere. Her true reasons for remaining at Team Galactic were almost a mystery to me, she did not ‘need’ Cyrus as much as Mars told us all so constantly at least. It was quite possible she was in for the wealth it provided her, perhaps she thought that she could live out her dreams with that kind prosperity. Fate had quite a different idea for her, though, for now she will be forced to forge her own path, with her own fire, I hope she somehow discovers a way to make her own journey.

Then there is me.

Or, rather, was me.

In truth, I don’t remember that time before a part of Team Galactic, I have a few vague memories of Canalave City and it's possible that I actually met Cyrus there, But I don’t remember being anybody other than ‘Commander Saturn’.

Which means now Cyrus is gone, it is only now that it will change, but I was so bound to that role. Nothing else makes any sense to me: ‘Galactic Boss Saturn’, ‘Galactic Leader Saturn’, ‘Galactic President Saturn’, that’s not me! It just can't be me!

I am being forced into being something I am not.

I must embrace it.

I am lieutenant-commander. That is my binding word. No matter my resolve, I do not have the flame that any of the other commanders, master Cyrus, had within them. They were apart from the Galactic goal enough to leave here, whether 'here' is this earth or simply these walls, but everything I have is here. It’s all mine, I was left not to take in others into my orbit. I do not have that kind of pull.

Could it be that I can unite their powers?

I wasn't even able to do that.

As a commander, I had some responsibility over others, but never over their goals. I told them exactly what they couldn’t do, instead of what they could do. There was a shared aim, and our shared aim was him. Now the sun of Team Galactic is gone there is not a strong enough force for the team to revolve around.

It is getting so very late.

We all use to sleep in the Galactic Building. Now the only place to find a home here is me.

I must have felt so glad, at the time, when I knew I finally had a place to stay. I can’t find those feelings anymore, remaining here is almost dragging me down. The halls echo a silent rhythm in a way they had never done before. There is no lively chatter from the undirected, so recently freed grunts, not a whir or a buzz from a single piece of machinery. Apart from me, there is nothing. This home has now become nothing.

My room was tucked away from the general Team Galactic sleeping quarters, as were all the rooms of the commanders. Not that they were any grander or that they did not lack the same sense of coldness which swept the whole of the complex. A sense of coldness that way made worse by the now apparent emptiness of the place. It is soulless, almost a reflection of what Cyrus’s internal, toxic desires.

My realisations, if Cyrus could have destroyed me from his life, then he swiftly would have done so, as with all people. I was simply of use to him, too useful to get rid of in that moment. The fury deep within him had corrupted his very root. There is fire which has become deadly. At the age of just 27, time had already begun to drain what was of him. Time had stolen so much from him already, self- expression which become inward, eventually exploding in a horrifying ray of light!

My room has one light bulb.

It flickers and stutters, it was never very bright to begin with (we never spent a lot of our money on lighting, the universe was at stake) but now it’s even darker, as it approaches its final days. I can’t be bothered to replace all the lights in the building, I know this place by memory so it shouldn’t matter so much. The room, as it now stands, is half illuminated. I can see it in more clearly in my head. The bed is just to my left, it has white sheets that appear more of a golden-grey because of the faulty lighting. The headboard is the same, some of the paint has peeled away now, leaving gaps of brown wood on its otherwise smooth pearl coloured surface. The wall is the same steel that covered the whole building, Unfeeling, yet highly practical. There was a dresser with a few simple items, one of them being a comb and a wardrobe to the right, small and cylindrically built. It could only store a few outfits, all of them identical, of course. (You could say the Commander’s sense of individuality was stunted as much as the grunts were, and the Galactic grunts weren’t even allowed to keep their own names! In exchange, they were given just simple designations).

Can I give them back their names?

Do they know their own names? The ones that were given to them at birth, before they were signed away to the cause. Will I be the one to give them a new one? Would they take to learning a new one, or would that make me as the man who took their identities from them in the first place? The man who wished for a world without spirit.

I am forcing a new identity on them, to replace the old identity that was infected on them, just the same. Even if the new identity that they receive enables them to reclaim their self-expression, will they understand what that means? I have looked upon them from above, they have blank and vacant eyes, sleepless expressions. They lack integrity to the highest degree, you would think that there was no real hope for them. They have been swallowed by their own despair, that is why many of them had come here.

But I am left to go against it.

I am to become the new generator of hope.

The only challenge against despair.

Against oblivion.

The pillow feels softer than it used to be.

I’m sure It’s just my imagination.

I’m just so tired…

I can sleep now, I can stop thinking for a little. The sun will rise again tomorrow, a fact that is certain, I can gather up my bundled-up disregard and I can make something of it! I can forge the chains that have been so nicely bound for me into something creative. Even while the ghost still restlessly knocks the walls of the old Galactic Headquarters and whines for the loss of its own itself.

x​

The void itself is something liquid.

it is tangible​

they are kept by the one who cannot be escaped.​

The most beautiful executioner

the one who divides the realms above and below​

they are struggling to keep their heads above the water.​

The power has doubled since I last came here.

The void will flood if nothing is done,​

Can you hear me?​

I’m down here

I’ll break the boundaries​

we will be divided​

x
​

A/N: To prevent confusion later, the short, final section. Is a dream. Thoughts are naturally scattered, illogical and restless whilst you are in a dream!

​

​

 

[The Wordsmith]

I very much enjoy reading this fan fiction. The style of your words is beautiful, and I like the perspective of Team Galactic.

 

[Ghostsoul]

I very much enjoy reading this fan fiction. The style of your words is beautiful, and I like the perspective of Team Galactic.

Ah! Thank you so much!

 

[diamondpearl876]

Light and time exist within conflict. Light is rejecting its responsibilities, it lives with the attention of the whole of this earth. Time chases after it and finds that it is forced to express itself, coming into the eyes of the world, and finds that it too is exiled.

Those last words still eat me up inside.

Not many came to the funeral.

There's a bit of an abrupt transition from the first paragraph to the next parts, but the description in the first paragraph (and in a lot of parts, really) are interesting philosophical concepts. I also think you have a real knack for short, impactful, and gut-wrenching sentences like the last two in the quoted part. They add a lot of tension and emotion, which, in turn, really helps to give readers an idea of what Saturn is like and how he's reacting to Cyrus being gone.

How they saw the passing of time as an enemy, how they forced Cyrus into the ‘grand race of life’ too soon. He mentioned how he wanted to take the young Cyrus away from him! How he regretted it ever since…

Sounds like the kind of childhood that Cyrus would've had, yeah, based off of what I know about him from canon. XD

Will it appear I am uncommitted? Does it look like I did not care enough to even bring flowers!

You can tell that Saturn really cares what the other Team Galactic members think of him. The quoted part here was a good subtle way to show that.

The sun is setting now, and the subtle glows of its tired beams had scattered the ground, giving it the subtle illusion of burning. It will be some time before the night comes to put out the fire.

Really like this description of the sunset.

Is this what success looks like? A secret I must take to my grave?

Yeah, I can definitely feel the stress that Saturn is here. Nice job!

Destruction is it the same as being rewritten! I have been told it’s so.

That's the logic of a lot of villains... It's twisted logic, but still logic nonetheless.

So this first part is a bit short, and there's not much to comment on yet. My only complaints would be about the grammar, but it doesn't distract from the overall writing too much. I think the short length works perfectly, though. You set up the characters and the tone of the story pretty well, and I'm eager to see where it'll all go next.

 

[Ghostsoul]

Spoiler: Review reply

Eeep! First full review! Thank you so much, I would have replied to this a lot sooner but by the time you replied I had already started the next part (I thought I would have finished it much earlier than this). I think concentration is something I really need to work on.

There's a bit of an abrupt transition from the first paragraph to the next parts, but the description in the first paragraph (and in a lot of parts, really) are interesting philosophical concepts. I also think you have a real knack for short, impactful, and gut-wrenching sentences like the last two in the quoted part. They add a lot of tension and emotion, which, in turn, really helps to give readers an idea of what Saturn is like and how he's reacting to Cyrus being gone.



Sounds like the kind of childhood that Cyrus would've had, yeah, based off of what I know about him from canon. XD



You can tell that Saturn really cares what the other Team Galactic members think of him. The quoted part here was a good subtle way to show that.



Really like this description of the sunset.



Yeah, I can definitely feel the stress that Saturn is here. Nice job!



That's the logic of a lot of villains... It's twisted logic, but still logic nonetheless.

So this first part is a bit short, and there's not much to comment on yet. My only complaints would be about the grammar, but it doesn't distract from the overall writing too much. I think the short length works perfectly, though. You set up the characters and the tone of the story pretty well, and I'm eager to see where it'll all go next.

I kind of agree with your first point, the full paragraph prose to the one sentence that follows it is a little abrupt. I think there could be a way I make it little less noticeable. I could reply to a lot of other things that you wrote, but then I fear giving away plot spoilers. So, for now, I'll leave them.

Set: 001​

I took around a week before any ‘proper’ action was taken.

What was I doing all that time? Procrastinating, attempting to see past my own internal frustrations. I think the past few days had come close to killing the motivation I once had, I’ll never as good as a leader as Cyrus, It’s the truth and I’m just going to have to accept that.

I feel less different than I imagined I would, I’m unveiling the same equipment to what remains of the same crowd. This crowd, with either new found intense loyalty or begrudging retention. I am at least brining life to a place which had seemed dead or missing.

The labs are now bright and buzzing, although very few actual scientists stayed. That selfish, unbearable Charon had, of course, left too with plenty of others following him. I have no idea what became of him after the events at Spear Pillar, I have a sickening feeling that he was too, alone. However, how he thought of betraying Cyrus like that has made him loathsome to me. Even if I find that I can no longer love Cyrus the way that I used to, I cannot find energy to dislike him in any way either.

I try to figure out how he would have just abandoned me, and not cared the slightest bit. Could he have seen me as nothing but a tool? I can’t wrap my head around it, it seems to deny all my previous expectations! What I knew, and thus I cannot bring myself to accept it!

The command room of which I had spent that day, I had finally, turned its lights back on. Something about it still felt, dead. I had dusted the command desk, repositioned the chairs (and dusted those two). I checked so that every one of the television screens was functioning correctly and to my delight, they did. Soon I will be able to connect to them to the world again, and I will watch with new eyes how the energy of this region flows!

I still see the headset glimmer on the desk, I hadn’t moved it since that fateful day. I don’t want to move them and having to use them for anything else would just be unsettling. Yet they glimmer, like the dark. The dark of the buzzing screen, the dark of the…

“Don’t come looking for me”

Nothing I do can shake off these memories.

I need to get to work.

These screens can monitor all kinds of things. Weight, pressure, rhythm, power. It can even focus on specific places through the whole of the Sinnoh region, and sometimes into places deep within the universe. It is a room which has almost endless possibilities attached to it!

A room I have known for but one thing, the capturing, the commanding, the infliction of our creation trio.

In the end, it became that of Cyrus too.

He had vanished.

Captured by the creature that sought to stop him.

But did that creature ever end up controlling Cyrus?

I cannot find that the form of acceptance he had come to discover could be too a kind of ‘infliction’.

Perhaps the ‘infliction’ was, rather, something that could describe him instead?

This room has light, but it is still a dead one.

The ghost here is yet to be vanquished.

I had attempted to give them their names back, it didn’t surprise me all that many rejected their new names, they seem very confused as to how someone could change their ‘names’ just like that. Their codes had become their mark, it what keeps them here and has come to define them. They have taken up their role, the one which aimed to destroy their spirit, and embraced them completely. Some of them only carry the blankest of expressions and provide no reaction when I asked or blamed them. It is only now I realise that there may have been darker reasons for their starch obedience.

Some former grunts did tell me that they were comfortable with the idea of being ‘renamed’. But I’m not sure if that is only because they feared losing their jobs or privileges if they didn’t; taking on a new identity is troublesome enough, let alone one that could now be considered ‘liberating’. They have been stuck for so long, even a small sense of freedom appears to scare them.

The names I chose for them corresponds as follows:

R-1 is now: Estelle

P-2 is now: George

NE-8 is now: Zoe

L-7 is now: Enosh

I-11 is now: Sophia

C-5 is now: Orion

L-18 is now: Hera

I am yet to assign them roles in this ‘new’ Team Galactic, which, as of now, I am properly in ownership of. If we are to be an alternative energy company like the public had believed us to be for so long, we still need some form of a goal. Finding new forms of energy without a direction may provide some ‘one time’ interesting results they won’t lead to anything useful.

At least ‘nothing’ would be better than working to destroy everything and replace it with a ‘world without spirit’. Replacing something isn’t so bad? But that aim could lead us to the wrong place.

I don’t want to be in that place again!

Team Galactic looking unto the world with freezing cold eyes!

I don’t want us to look that way ever again.

We will fight back our urges to undo what is.

We will build on it, right?

We won’t destroy it?

Unless we must…

x​

There is still much work to do with the rejuvenation of Team Galactic. Some rooms were still sealed off. Charon himself had sealed them, before scattering off to feed his own desires. He told me something about Team Galactic’s failure and how, in the hands of the grunts, this equipment could be even more dangerous. I was too focused on the grin he had smacked on his face at that time, rather than what he was saying. He might have even bolted away with the equipment after he had left Team Galactic. I wouldn’t have known! It wasn’t in my brain at the time that I would pay attention to such things!

Even if Charon had taken all the equipment without the other commanders caring or me even noticing I don’t think he could have blocked off access from the rooms completely without permission from Cyrus. Only Cyrus had the keys to reset the codes on the doors, unless Charon had managed to break into Cyrus’s personal files, there is no way he could stop me from opening these doors. Even if I Charon did take some of this equipment, I should still have enough to carry out a task that has some benefit.

Some assistance.

To some people.

Some of the equipment in S-8 appears to be missing, however, to my luck most of the equipment in rooms A-1, S-9 and C-11 pretty safety tucked away, even if everything inside appears to be scattered.

I recall, we just threw it all in there, didn’t we? We didn’t put anything back in its proper place after that day. Now it’s all scattered! All this important, and highly expensive equipment was treated like dirt. Mars, Jupiter, it was easy for them to do that. Their destiny here was over. They had to leave this behind, and what better way to leave it, than to try and eradicate it.

The memories that they hated so much, the memories they wanted to leave behind, they threw them away.

They managed to forget, or so it appeared.

There is no peace in forgetting, not for me.

It takes a while to pull the hefty machines from their hiding places, I ordered George, Orion and Sophia to aid me in returning them, as well as in restoring their function. Now they are neat, cleaned, free. Something in me is just so glad to see them working again! Even if something else, brings them into a shadow, a shade of memory. The rooms feel full again, even if they sit such starch blackness…

Nothing can change the dark shades of the metallic walls, so the inside of the complex will always appear dark. No matter how many lights, whatever their colour can ever make it ‘bright’ in a seemingly natural way. These machines have several white lights, flashing. They seem to have no effect on the darkness here, the stark, but somehow necessary contrast between the bright flashes and void of walls, it’s hurting my head.

x​

The main desk hasn’t been properly operational either. Our receptionist, G-17 has only been appearing at their post on occasion. Nobody enters this place anymore, nobody who isn’t an employee. Although, I don’t expect much positive attention until our image has fully changed, the area is still something that needs to have a more genuine presence. Even if brining a full sense of ‘spirit’ to this place might be impossible, I can least make it appear as if it does.

I don’t think there is any way of getting the spikes off the walls. It’s almost as if Cyrus had put there a deterrent for any person who wanted to come here in genuine intention, or a guard to keep us away from the world! They were permeant! No matter if I try to unscrew them, they are stuck! The external area in general will be a challenge to remaster. It’s pretty much set to radiate a certain sort of energy. One which is noticeable, but guarded. Like a predatory animal in cage.

It’s moonlight again, the air is crisper than yesterday, colder and more sharp. I think the cold might be affecting my mood, I’m more wearied than normal, I’m getting headaches too; At least my survey of the complex is complete. Some things here have come to life again. Other things should stay dead for the time being. One thing I am yet to check is the main Galactic computer.

Something about it riddled me with all sorts of strange emotions, it caught my brain in loops, forcing me to repeat disturbing thoughts repeatedly until the loops runs dry. I’m terrified that I’ll turn the screen back on and Cyrus will be there.

Just staring at me.

Or he’ll curse me.

Simply for seeing him again.

Perhaps I’ll see where he got to.

Perhaps it’ll drive me mad in the process.

‘The beautiful executioner’.

Something about that, it stays in my mind.

The computer, weirdly enough, feels as if it’s been intercepted, as if something has come to live inside of it.

But there is nothing that can confirm that belief.

It switched off without warning that day.

The sounds and sights of Cyrus’s location were enough for it to break itself.

Wherever Cyrus was, it was somewhere, rather incomprehensible.

But Cyrus was still happy there.

Is it possible? That the original Galactic Headquarters could almost be a ‘mirror’ to that place?

The delightful ‘cage’ one dark, with juxtaposing artificial light?

Violent contrasts, attempting to work in harmony.

To make something so out of place, that grasping its true form would be impossible!

Whoever would really want to search for that place?

Unless you could belong there.

Cyrus is happy.

It ended there.

There is no use in letting the past haunt me.

Is there?

I manage to move my hand towards the power button, taking occasional glances up at the black screen, with the starts reflected, it’s as if, despite everything I’ve done so far, it’s going to be just the same until I initiate this machine. The other computers can reflect Sinnoh’s energy sources, but nothing can be done about them not without this. The grunts have left, or have gone to sleep. They didn’t even bother to say ‘goodnight’ to me, or ask them if they could finish their work for today, I’m less of a respectable boss, of course they didn’t. I won’t change anything, not unless I bring back some of what Team Galactic already had.

I can’t do this.

No, not now.

I need to do this with the rest of Team Galactic behind me, watching me.

I will know for certain what to do when morning comes.

Even if this might mean, breaking my one and only promise.

Those thoughts come running into my head again.

They make me so sick.

Cyrus will never be safe if I…

Who knows what is safe if I…

I tremble and stare only at the echoed sky that lingered above me. I can just about see my own reflection inside there, it seems to jitter and jump. The reflection appears grey, and almost set amongst the stars itself. My headache is getting so much worse, I just, I really need to sleep. I will keep reminding myself, I have made something of this once broken mess, something, today.

x​

What was it?

That question you had there?

Did you really expect me to go away like that?

Well, ignoring me won’t do any good.​

There is no chance to show you.

You see, I'm hidden.​

I’m growing darker than you’ll ever imagine

And not even I can get rid of you.

But they are going to find another way!​

I would wish you, good luck.​

There is no use in that…​

 

[diamondpearl876]

Set 001 reminds me a lot still of set 000. Your writing seems to be very introspective and emotional overall, which isn't a complaint. I'm rather fond of that kind of writing. I'm wondering, though, if your intention is for this to be more of a character study? There is a very basic plot premise I see so far: Cyrus has disappeared, and Saturn has taken on the responsibility of taking Cyrus's place and reforming Team Galactic, which is clearly a challenge he's going to struggle with for more reasons than one. Other than that, though, set 001 didn't reveal much in the way of plot, so that's why I ask. There were some sentences, too, that I didn't quite understand the meaning of because they were fragments or the grammar was confusing, so I might've missed something. Either way, I think you have a knack for portraying Saturn's grief and the tension he feels, so I'll be interested in seeing where that leads him in his new role.

 

[Ghostsoul]

Set 001 reminds me a lot still of set 000. Your writing seems to be very introspective and emotional overall, which isn't a complaint. I'm rather fond of that kind of writing. I'm wondering, though, if your intention is for this to be more of a character study? There is a very basic plot premise I see so far: Cyrus has disappeared, and Saturn has taken on the responsibility of taking Cyrus's place and reforming Team Galactic, which is clearly a challenge he's going to struggle with for more reasons than one. Other than that, though, set 001 didn't reveal much in the way of plot, so that's why I ask. There were some sentences, too, that I didn't quite understand the meaning of because they were fragments or the grammar was confusing, so I might've missed something. Either way, I think you have a knack for portraying Saturn's grief and the tension he feels, so I'll be interested in seeing where that leads him in his new role.

Now that you mention it, to a degree, I would say that it is more of a character study. (Note: The original plan for this story was that it was going to be written very quickly and not exceed 7500 words and I still think the latter may be true). The fragmented nature of it is suppose to portray troublesome, passing thoughts that Saturn wants to get rid of quickly, he attempts to either consume them or is overcome by them. The first idea for this simply came from symbolism within the names of the characters, and sort of carried on from there. Yes, I noticed how the two chapters were exceedingly similar (I personally think it could have ended the chapter in a far more interesting way, since it's pretty much the same way the last one ended). Although I can say I do have a plan for the ending of this story, and I feel is will end in a rather unusual way. But I think it is more character driven than plot driven.

Thanks for the reviews too! I really appreciate it.

 

[diamondpearl876]

Now that you mention it, to a degree, I would say that it is more of a character study. (Note: The original plan for this story was that it was going to be written very quickly and not exceed 7500 words and I still think the latter may be true). The fragmented nature of it is suppose to portray troublesome, passing thoughts that Saturn wants to get rid of quickly, he attempts to either consume them or is overcome by them. The first idea for this simply came from symbolism within the names of the characters, and sort of carried on from there. Yes, I noticed how the two chapters were exceedingly similar (I personally think it could have ended the chapter in a far more interesting way, since it's pretty much the same way the last one ended). Although I can say I do have a plan for the ending of this story, and I feel is will end in a rather unusual way. But I think it is more character driven than plot driven.

Thanks for the reviews too! I really appreciate it.

No problem, and thanks for answering my question. After you said you didn't want to spoil a lot of the plot by responding to my first review, I was wondering which of the two you were going to focus on more.

 

[Arkadelphiak]

This is artsy AF! I like it! And I'm a sucker for anything with a subtitle.

Being my first fic, and because of it's rather unconventional nature, this is also something I was slightly afraid to here post in general. But if I don't post anything, then I won't learn anything either. I'll just have to be daring enough.

Hey, be as unconventional as you want. We need such things.

But there are those who just simply overlook him upon his disappearance! Cyrus, the true leader of Team Galactic! The only guide they had for so many years of their lives Yet they abandoned him. They showed no remorse when he had left them, not one of them with a clue as to what Cyrus was really going through.

I think you meant to have a period between "lives" and "Yet." And yes! Praise glorious leader Cyrus and his legacy!

The sun is setting now, and the subtle glows of its tired beams had scattered the ground, giving it the subtle illusion of burning.

Using 'subtle' twice seemed a little repetitive.

I had realised I had forgot to bring a coat,

I think a scene with him realizing how cold he is (describing the sensation of freezing air or something) might be more effective than "I had forgot."

The aquatic glow of its monitors will be under my control,

'Aquatic' is a bit of an odd way to describe the light emission from a monitor . . . is it "aqua" in color or does the light fluctuate on Saturn's face like the surface of water?

A star which grew to stand above us all. A star that drew us in. We revolved around him, it only made sense, the planets are merciless to the energy of the sun! They need its warmth, its pull to survive, we listen to him in his entirety.

SPACE SYMBOLISM YEEEES I CRAVE THIS

Which means now Cyrus is gone, it is only now that it will change, but I was so bound to that role. Nothing else makes any sense to me: ‘Galactic Boss Saturn’, ‘Galactic Leader Saturn’, ‘Galactic President Saturn’, that’s not me! It just can't be me!
I am being forced into being something I am not.
I must embrace it.

You're giving me Archer feels, man. Careful with that, or you'll get another reader.

(we never spent a lot of our money on lighting, the universe was at stake)

10/10
____________________

I still see the headset glimmer on the desk, I hadn’t moved it since that fateful day. I don’t want to move them and having to use them for anything else would just be unsettling. Yet they glimmer, like the dark. The dark of the buzzing screen, the dark of the…
“Don’t come looking for me”

I thought Cyrus said, "Do not look for me" in that episode? I may be wrong.

I was too focused on the grin he had smacked on his face at that time,

Hmm. "Smacked" is an odd word choice for describing a smile, even one on Charon's smug face.

The rooms feel full again, even if they sit such starch blackness…

The part I bolded is a little confusing . . . and I think you meant "stark" instead of "starch" LOL.

They seem to have no effect on the darkness here, the stark, but somehow necessary contrast between the bright flashes and void of walls, it’s hurting my head.

Saturn, my man, this sentence is hurting my head too!

They were permeant!

I think you meant "permanent" here.


Anyway, I really like where this is headed. I haven't seen much introspective work on the evil teams' "lesser" members, so this is a real treat. I eagerly await more!

 

[Ghostsoul]

This is artsy AF! I like it! And I'm a sucker for anything with a subtitle.


Hey, be as unconventional as you want. We need such things.

I think you meant to have a period between "lives" and "Yet." And yes! Praise glorious leader Cyrus and his legacy!

Using 'subtle' twice seemed a little repetitive.

I think a scene with him realizing how cold he is (describing the sensation of freezing air or something) might be more effective than "I had forgot."

'Aquatic' is a bit of an odd way to describe the light emission from a monitor . . . is it "aqua" in color or does the light fluctuate on Saturn's face like the surface of water?

SPACE SYMBOLISM YEEEES I CRAVE THIS

You're giving me Archer feels, man. Careful with that, or you'll get another reader.

10/10
____________________

I thought Cyrus said, "Do not look for me" in that episode? I may be wrong.

Hmm. "Smacked" is an odd word choice for describing a smile, even one on Charon's smug face.

The part I bolded is a little confusing . . . and I think you meant "stark" instead of "starch" LOL.

Saturn, my man, this sentence is hurting my head too!

I think you meant "permanent" here.


Anyway, I really like where this is headed. I haven't seen much introspective work on the evil teams' "lesser" members, so this is a real treat. I eagerly await more!

Eeep. Thank you so much!
I have a feeling I really should have read through the second part more. (I had barely looked over writing craft when I had wrote both the first and second part to this).
Although I revised the first part a few times, I still think I could go for looking over my work more.so I can spot any repetition as well as silly grammatical/spelling errors.
I'm glad you like it!
'Aqua' is a rather odd way to describe a monitor, kind of contrasts the natural and unnatural perhaps? Or I'm trying to justify something silly.
I think 'showed' rather than 'told' the thing about the coat to highlight to mundane(ness)? of it, just to bring Saturn back to reality just a little bit. But perhaps describing the cold would have worked better, seasons are pretty mundane things too.
'(we never spent a lot of our money on lighting, the universe was at stake)'
I should use that line somewhere. Hmmm...

 

[danh19]

I think that you a great job l really like the fact that it's character focus rather than being all about plot and plots twists if at really getting to know the character

 

[Olive]

I just wanted to commend you on putting together something really special here.

For a second I thought that this was going to be yet another story about what an epic villain Cyrus was, but then you pulled a fast one on me and suddenly I'm reading a story about someone on whom I never expected to read a story : Saturn.

So often in Pokémon writing, especially one's concerning evil team plots, such an emphasis is placed on the already-established main characters and how their plots come together and unfold. What you've done here is different though. You remind us that there is a human element behind all of the epic plots of the games and anime. Rather than focusing on Cyrus and his mechanizations, you focus on the insignificant people who were stuck picking up all the shattered pieces he left behind.

Yes, this is certainly a Pokémon story, but you manage to make it more than just a story about Pokémon. What you have here is a story that, at its core, is about life. How we can all sometimes feel alone, abandoned, overwhelmed.

This is a story on a theme that truly is timeless. Not just a fan fic, but a true work of art.

 

[Ghostsoul]

I just wanted to commend you on putting together something really special here.

For a second I thought that this was going to be yet another story about what an epic villain Cyrus was, but then you pulled a fast one on me and suddenly I'm reading a story about someone on whom I never expected to read a story : Saturn.

So often in Pokémon writing, especially one's concerning evil team plots, such an emphasis is placed on the already-established main characters and how their plots come together and unfold. What you've done here is different though. You remind us that there is a human element behind all of the epic plots of the games and anime. Rather than focusing on Cyrus and his mechanizations, you focus on the insignificant people who were stuck picking up all the shattered pieces he left behind.

Yes, this is certainly a Pokémon story, but you manage to make it more than just a story about Pokémon. What you have here is a story that, at its core, is about life. How we can all sometimes feel alone, abandoned, overwhelmed.

This is a story on a theme that truly is timeless. Not just a fan fic, but a true work of art.

I never expected to receive a comment like this.
I...
Thank you so so much!
I'm a little overwhelmed right now!

 

[Ghostsoul]

Spoiler: A/N and other stuff

First of all thank you so much to everyone who left me a review! It really helps me to push this forward. I was incredibly nervous when I first posted this, so when someone gives me some nice words it makes my day.
Sorry this took so long to come out, for another thing I am starting to consider turning this into a kind of 'collection' of stories again. But It'll have to wait until I'm finished with this one.

Set: 002
​

Horrifying, relentless nightmares. It’s as if he’s still there, he can’t leave me. I’m the only one to know that’s he still here.

I can’t block it out!

There is no sense as to blocking it out.

The smallest slither of light has entered the room, it curves around the lines of the bed, like a snake it gently coils itself around the silver frames of the bed. Now it has found a resting place just below my feet. It is relinquishing itself to my little cage of darkness.

I think I must have felt a few moments of paralysis something of, the feeling of being dragged above, or below. I could not move myself. I was powerless to its entirety.

The light bulb has been out for a good few days, it hasn’t bothered me, I think the light in Mars’s and Jupiter’s former rooms may still be working. I could take it swiftly from them and replace my own. Those rooms had not been touched, although the doors have been left unlocked, it’s an intrusion on the past. They told me they wanted to be ‘normal’ now. If they so want to, normal I’ll allow them to be. I will not take apart what they wanted to be set.

The dark stays in the dark.

Many of the grunts had woken minutes, hours before me. They seemed busy, although I had given them no proper instruction or reason. There was no sense of panic, however, they had an agenda; I had at least changed them a little, a small smile comes across of face.

I spot a group of them standing, quietly conversing amongst themselves. Some swing their arms around in a restless fashion, another grasps their hand around a small plastic cup, the water inside it trembles gently as their hand shook. Three of the four of them face downwards, their shortly cut green hair covering the entirety of their eyes. I walk up to them and give them a simple gesture. Their faces are restless wavering between despair and hope. Their eyes peaked just above their formless hairstyles.

They each followed me, unenthusiastic, their emotions controlled. The control room is close to here. There are around 30 or so grunts already there, with eyes in a puzzling glare as they glance around the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen Team Galactic’s light shall shine again!”

Automatic clapping. Robotic, stereotyped, automatic clapping; becoming so aware of their drained spirits, they need to be able to create their own spirits and not have me attempt to replace them. To replace their spirits, and then create a new one will make me the one to mould them completely.

Light should shine on its own, but forcing light upon others will either put that light out or corrupt it in its entirety.

Cyrus isn’t inside here. He’s growing darker, he is no longer part of this world he hated so much!

He is not all consuming force.

This thinking is not rational.

What’s the matter with you!​

The grand computer is switched on.

The screeching flash of blue from above beats down on me. It catches the glimmer of my slivery uniform; the light seems to spin around them room. I shut my eyes for a moment but I find my eyes bombarded by the buzz of static.

The room, formerly a slate grey, was now covered in a subtle blue tint, almost one of the ocean. Suffocating, defiling, if only you were to spend to long looking at your own reflection. The computer itself, an unnatural glowing aqua, had at least ceased it’s rampageous buzzing. The grunts have no reaction. But had they been closing their eyes too, as I had done? I couldn’t have known!

I thought this return to function would be the one thing that would take away the grasp of Cyrus from me but no matter how much I destroy his haunting, he comes back in phantom form. Team Galactic is Cyrus.

Team Galactic without Cyrus is not Team Galactic.

It is but a loose system, one of ties ether severed or rusted away by time. He left and all ties could be undone! Mars, Jupiter, Charon, they all undid those ties themselves. They had destroyed them so easily. Could it had been, that they had been ‘free’ a long time ago? I was never free.

There was no chance for me ever to know what freedom was.

I attempt to compile my memories away from this building. Memories in which I was apart from Team Galactic. I have fond memories of managing to catch Azelf at Lake Valor, but I can’t frame that memory in the pursuit of self-interest. I did not feel happy for myself, so much as I felt happy for the sake of my cause. The cause I had so wrongly believed, in the very depths of my being. The cause that also drove it into its own abyss. It kept closing in, closing in and collapsed.

This is where I am now.

The wreckage of Cyrus’s former dream. A wreckage scorched, burned. I can only scrounge and repair what little there is left.

“Master Saturn, are you alright?” the grunt, no, Estelle asks.

Estelle…

No, R-1.

Do not call me that.

He is gone, he is still here.​

My mind is still pulsing almost as if I recklessly bash against a locked enclosure. I’ve done everything I can, and yet this place has not come to life! Is it really me letting Cyrus stay here? A self-reflection, is it that Cyrus cannot get rid of me?

Cyrus could not escape his own one weakness, he could not do this alone. Team Galactic, a pocket of soullessness, away from the busy bustle of the world. A room with an artificial sun, one where time could not pass naturally, where time was dictated by said artificial sun. Where the false planetarium exists with perfect harmony, an unnatural harmony.

Time cannot escape it’s existence, inside the abyss.

Time is a servant, a provider, an unwilling destroyer!

“I’m not alright!”

I’ll run, the lights are still running in my head. Left! Right! Light! Dark! Damage!

My face is bathing in red heat, as my cheeks pulse and tremble. I just want to get back to my room, my one tiny room, I just want to start this day over again. Please let me start this day again.

I hear a muffled calling behind me, these creatures no humans so conditioned to be pleasant with their status in the void, now seem to care about me?

Hard to understand…

These are humans, I gave them names, I showed them just a little sign of their humanity. Can I be the one push that they needed?

Ah! How I have sacrificed my own ego!

My little room is still so quiet. Where is the lock? Was I ever given such a thing? No matter! It didn’t affect my privacy either way! Not when Cyrus was here, when Team Galactic was…

For the first time, I have...

Privacy.

Yet, my actions, my thoughts, I can’t seem to be able to…

Forget about him.

My eyes flutter. How can I ever think of such things?

Cyrus was…

No, Cyrus is my sun. There is nothing else. Cyrus, the creator of Team Galactic, and who was to be god of all creation.

I cannot deny his presence, even now, even here. At this very moment and in this very room. This tiny room, in complete darkness, with the door shut tight as possible. There is no light and nothing can get in. Air can drift between the doors through the little cracks, all solid matter, material, immaterial, flesh is blocked.

Thoughts are still flesh…

The residence of the brain, is still here.

There is too much buzzing, too much overwhelming static. Natural, and unnatural. Sleeping would be great now, sleep.

Silence.

I thank the darkness.

x​

“Don’t escape you coward!”​

Forgetting is against all permission!

Arceus does not grant the power of forgetting.​

For the loss of memory holds its own powers​

But we have all forgotten some things. Haven’t we.​

“I wish I could forget you.”​

I mean too much to you.

I will always be here.

Even inside the infinity!​

x​

22/7/XX

I had no idea how much time had passed between my collapse into sleeping and the time I awoke. I still feel the pulse of thoughts, the thoughts I can’t piece together.

An entire day might have gone by, or a few hours. Nobody came to check on me, who knows if that flash of ‘concern’ was even genuine? Was it just something else they were programed to do?

I want my private thoughts back, somehow. I want somewhere I can at least keep to myself, even if my mind space is not safe.

I found this small, black book inside this room somewhere inside one of the drawers, it appears to be full of words all crossed out, smudged and near impossible to read and from over 7 years ago; it’s not perfect, but it’s the only thing I have.

Here is where I can make some sense to mind, my dreams. Those dreams, they seem to want to hold me, to keep me captive.

I don’t have ‘permission’ to forget them.

Permission…

Who’s talking to me? Someone was talking to me inside that dream. The voice is muffled, crossing and scratching, almost disjointed.

It feels like, it exists outside of my mind; even now so recently awoken I cannot recreate it. It’s something I could have never come up with. It mentioned the ‘Beautiful executioner’ some nights ago, it rings true of something I vaguely remember but have pushed away.

Something I must not tell. It’s impossible to forget!

The dream too struggles to get rid of me.

It no longer wants to be in my head.

x​

My secret, it still overpowers me. I slam the book shut!

I’m going to tell the grunts to turn on the main computer, they can do it this time. Not me. The less I think dwindle on these circular thoughts the less damage they can do. Right? I need a whole new position. If I can’t forget, I can at least bury…

There are exciting new solutions out, there, right? There are whole worlds that can do things for the Sinnoh region!

We can at least find things away from what was before, simply restoring Team Galactic won’t work. I must reinvent it, completely. I am no ‘boss’ of Team Galactic, so Team Galactic will become something else under my command.

I create a new role, I dismiss the existing role.

I send it now, to the void.

I peer out of the door, the lights are all still on and some conversation, if only whispers still hang in the air. It is still the day time after all, thank goodness! My hands seem to tremble as I rest my hand on the door knob and think about stepping outside the room. It felt safe in the dark, at least, it felt safe for my rapid mind.

I can’t keep myself in the dark, not forever.

I can see it, Team Galactic tearing itself apart. It has not even a sign of a leader, it cannot function. It falls entirely into true ruin. It destroys itself, even the building collapses in. Those grunts find nothing with their lives they are still stuck. They are in darkness. Nothing passes through here but the air, no matter how many years go by, Veilstone city continues onward in simple city dreams as Team Galactic dies, we are nothing but criminals, we so deserve to be forgotten!

The changes that I make will too be forgotten, one day.

I’ll just have to take that chance.

I’m taking that light bulb off. It’s departed, there is no point in it being here.

I leave here, I close the door behind me. Now it’s as locked as it can possibly be. Forgetting a light bulb is a small step. It can still stay in the dark as it should. It’ll keep itself to the same room too. I do not belong in the dark, I have a spirit.

I can use what is mine now.

I run back to the command room, as call out back to Estelle. I tell her, to take back the central computer. She can turn it on this time. We can set the coordinates, we’ll analyse waves in space, matter. Something Sinnoh hasn’t seen before! We’ll make good of it this time!

The people have no reason to fear the new and the daring.

x​

23/7/XX

I had no unpleasant dreams as such last night, there were no voices, but I can remember the faint dripping of water. Was that water? There was nothing else but blackness but there were, at least, no voices.

The grunts tell me that they have observed some rather odd signals (and so soon too!) They might even come from a dimension outside of our own, but something unlike the previous temporal and spatial dimensions we have discovered.

I sure hope they aren’t.

Then they might remember, they might find…

No, they can’t!

It's as if I know...

Where was that empty place...

​

 

[diamondpearl876]

The smallest slither of light has entered the room, it curves around the lines of the bed, like a snake it gently coils itself around the silver frames of the bed. Now it has found a resting place just below my feet. It is relinquishing itself to my little cage of darkness.

At first I thought you meant "sliver" not "sliter," but it seems the snake analogy was the goal in the end. At any rate, this was a well written way to portray tension by making use of the recurring motif of light.

Their eyes peaked just above their formless hairstyles.

Interesting that they actually have the hairstyle from the games, but I guess they're said to be devoid of personality and emotion and all that... so it makes sense that they'd all look similar.

Time is a servant, a provider, an unwilling destroyer!

Interesting personification of time here, since time is a manmade concept.

I had no idea how much time had passed between my collapse into sleeping and the time I awoke. I still feel the pulse of thoughts, the thoughts I can’t piece together.

I like this. It helps us see just how stressed out Saturn really is.

An entire day might have gone by, or a few hours. Nobody came to check on me, who knows if that flash of ‘concern’ was even genuine? Was it just something else they were programed to do?

I want my private thoughts back, somehow. I want somewhere I can at least keep to myself, even if my mind space is not safe.

Interesting that Saturn got something he wanted and now seems to regret it. He wanted to give the members of Galactic theire humanity back, and now that they're showing concern, a normal, human expression, he doesn't like it because it makes him feel vulnerable. It says a lot about his character.

The less I think dwindle on these circular thoughts the less damage they can do. Right? I need a whole new position. If I can’t forget, I can at least bury…

Nope. That's what people like to think, but suppressing the thoughts just makes them come back stronger. D: I wonder if/when Saturn will reach a total breaking point. If he keeps this up it might not take long.

With that in mind, I could see the repetitiveness of reading Saturn's emotions and inner thoughts getting almost frustrating after a while. It's not frustrating at the moment, but at some point I'd expect him to do something about all the problems he's facing. You said this is indeed something of a character study, but actions can also define characters. I'll be looking forward to how this plays out in the end.

 

[Beth Pavell]

I had read most of this (first chapter) yesterday, but I wanted to leave it for a while to organise my impressions rather than comment immediately.

The usual category style of review, I think, isn't really fit for purpose here so I'll have to organise this another way. I'll start with what gave me most pause for thought. There were several times while reading that I found myself mentally correcting small matters of grammar and improving the punctuation. But the more I read, the less sure I was that they were errors. Given how the viewpoint is firmly in Saturn's head, it's not quite so clear-cut. I'm sure there were some which were typos, examples:

lives. Yet they abandoned him

the particles that had rested there had probably

I'm in two minds about the prose in general. It is on the purple side - somewhat lavender, you might say - and for the most part it's still functional rather than ludicrous. But there's a lot of metaphor and personification I'm not sure about. Again, because we're in Saturn's head, the question remains: is this a criticism of the author or the character? How to put this constructively ... it's got a distinct air of teenage poetry to it.

That’s because the end must lie with me.

I am clasping onto the end; the end has no beginning.

No beginning.

I am the beginning.

I think that's about as good an example of what I mean. Part of me wonders whether this is a case of Reality is Unrealistic - you seem to be building up Cyrus as a classic cult leader, and I find myself wondering whether this sort of faux-profundity is what cult members tend to come up with when they're deprived of their leader.

So is this a criticism? Well, it depends on what you've set out to achieve, I suppose. If you've set out to give the impression of Saturn as rather self-absorbed and pretentious, then it's a success. If you've set out to give the impression of a confused and conflicted soul, then I think it's somewhat overwrought. I think in that case the internal narrative needs to focus more more intensely on the difference between life with Cyrus and life without. Not as much in terms of fire and emptiness metaphors, much more in terms of what the Galactic members actually believed, what they thought their purpose was.

So let's get down to it, what am I sure of? Well, firstly, I am sure that if you're going to use strange grammar, sentence constructions, punctuation, etc deliberately, then the conventional prose has to be razor-sharp in its accuracy - otherwise at best it'll merely be confusing, and at worst the reader will just assume they're all errors.

Second, I do think the chapter needs to be more tightly edited. It really meanders a lot, and I'm not convinced that the meandering really adds a lot to the narrative, either in terms of moving the plot along (Such as it is), or in terms of building character.

 

[Ghostsoul]

But there's a lot of metaphor and personification I'm not sure about. Again, because we're in Saturn's head, the question remains: is this a criticism of the author or the character? How to put this constructively ... it's got a distinct air of teenage poetry to it.

Hmmm, I'll go into the metaphors for a bit, the original idea of this story was that it was based of missed opportunity for symbolism inside of the Pokemon Universe in general.

My main purpose for what could be called, a piece of writing, arose when exploring various symbolism within the themes of the Pokemon universe in general, but more specifically Team Galactic. The symbolism I felt which was totally ignored or was just seen as unimportant by the writers, could have lead to some strange consequences if they were acknowledge.

They feel kind of obvious to me, but considering I am the one that researched them and know how to make the links between, I feel like it may be more confusing for the average audience than I had first anticipated. I would go and explain my own symbolism but that'll be narcissistic as hell so I won't.

How to put this constructively ... it's got a distinct air of teenage poetry to it.

I can't imagine Saturn being that older much older than 20. He's somewhere between 16-21 probably (but we'll never be sure). This isn't really constructive though since I can't tell if it's a criticism or a simple remark. Something with that 'air' as you say would work in a YA romance or fantasy novel, for instance but would seem very out of place in an adult horror novel. I guess this fic is neither of those things though.

I am the beginning.

Surprisingly, this little quote you picked out had a lot of foreshadowing in it. If I continue this story, you'll find out what it actually means. The more I think about it, the more of these metaphors will actually become litreal later on.

, I suppose. If you've set out to give the impression of Saturn as rather self-absorbed and pretentious, then it's a success. If you've set out to give the impression of a confused and conflicted soul, then I think it's somewhat overwrought.

Can I portray him as both?

I think in that case the internal narrative needs to focus more more intensely on the difference between life with Cyrus and life without.

But how can I do this without making it a shipping fic with unintentionally uncomfortable undertones?

So let's get down to it, what am I sure of? Well, firstly, I am sure that if you're going to use strange grammar, sentence constructions, punctuation, etc deliberately, then the conventional prose has to be razor-sharp in its accuracy - otherwise at best it'll merely be confusing, and at worst the reader will just assume they're all errors.

But how much did it actually work?

 

[Arkadelphiak]

Horrifying, relentless nightmares. It’s as if he’s still there, he can’t leave me. I’m the only one to know that’s he still here.

I can’t block it out!

There is no sense as to blocking it out.

The smallest slither of light has entered the room, it curves around the lines of the bed, like a snake it gently coils itself around the silver frames of the bed. Now it has found a resting place just below my feet. It is relinquishing itself to my little cage of darkness.

I think I must have felt a few moments of paralysis something of, the feeling of being dragged above, or below. I could not move myself. I was powerless to its entirety.

The light bulb has been out for a good few days, it hasn’t bothered me, I think the light in Mars’s and Jupiter’s former rooms may still be working. I could take it swiftly from them and replace my own. Those rooms had not been touched, although the doors have been left unlocked, it’s an intrusion on the past. They told me they wanted to be ‘normal’ now. If they so want to, normal I’ll allow them to be. I will not take apart what they wanted to be set.

The start of the chapter is an eerily good depiction of depression. That's all I have to say there.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Team Galactic’s light shall shine again!”

I think you need a comma there.

Their faces are restless, wavering between despair and hope. Their eyes peaked just above their formless hairstyles.

Comma again, and I think formless hairstyles doesn't work here? Because they've been described as bowl-cuts (unless the Grunts have disheveled hair?), so this didn't make sense.

Light should shine on its own, but forcing light upon others will either put that light out or corrupt it in its entirety.

Cyrus isn’t inside here. He’s growing darker, he is no longer part of this world he hated so much!

He is not all consuming force.

This thinking is not rational.

The first sentence was confusing to me. What exactly is this light? Is it Cyrus, given that he's the sun of Saturn's life (and his name means sun)?

I attempt to compile my memories away from this building. Memories in which I was apart from Team Galactic. I have fond memories of managing to catch Azelf at Lake Valor, but I can’t frame that memory in the pursuit of self-interest. I did not feel happy for myself, so much as I felt happy for the sake of my cause. The cause I had so wrongly believed, in the very depths of my being. The cause that also drove it into its own abyss. It kept closing in, closing in and collapsed.

Ooooh, the last part gets muddled. But it's almost evident at this point: Saturn is experiencing a very, very severe case of depression. Maybe even delusions. But I've already gone beyond my expertise-- I'm no doctor!

Time cannot escape it’s existence, inside the abyss.
Time is a servant, a provider, an unwilling destroyer!

Fun fact: many current astrophysicists argue that time is merely a human construct. How does that play into the metaphorical side of Saturn's situation? And what exactly does time destroy?

Cyrus was…

No, Cyrus is my sun.

S P A C E M E T A P H O R S

The voice is muffled, crossing and scratching, almost disjointed.

This is a confusing way to describe a voice!

I do not belong in the dark, I have a spirit.

Ooh, this is a big deal. Spirit was the thing Cyrus sought to erase-- so, is Saturn partially defying him? 'Not belong[ing] in the dark' suggests he's meant to follow/be with Cyrus (since he's the sun of Saturn's life). Yet, he owns up to the fact that he has a spirit. And boy, does he have a lot of emotions. This raises a lot of questions, particularly about the futility of Cyrus' mission. It's clearly done more harm than good.

 

[AceTrainer14]

Turning up for my post-awards review!

Firstly, I really like the idea of this story. The Galactic Admins have been rather ignored by fan-fiction, I guess because Cyrus is more compelling in-game, but the concept of exploring Saturn post the dissolution of Galactic is an intriguing and frankly great idea. I think you really showcase Saturn’s internal struggle quite well.

It is clear that he is a troubled and lost man with no idea what to do next, a man cast astray from the cult he called home, and the psychological nature of the story really intrigued me. The random dream sequences add to my intrigue, and I am quite interested to know what happens next. Your descriptions of the Galactic HQ added to that, painting a claustrophobic and rather unsettling picture of this building and really heightening how lost and alone everyone is.

Which really brings me to the main problem with the story: not a lot has really happened yet. That is not a bad thing, as these chapters have been establishing the situation and who Saturn is, but it did get a bit repetitive by the end of the third chapter. There isn’t any sense of what will happen next and where the story is going, and I think it needs, in the next chapter, something to happen to keep me interested. Saturn re-building Galactic and finding new purpose is a nice idea, but there needs to be some urgency or drama attached to it to make it a must-read. Without that, the story will become very stale very fast.

I know you are a bit uncertain about your prose. I liked it in parts, particularly when you were describing the settings and the environment around Saturn. However, it can a tad purple in places. It works just enough for the story, ut could be toned down as well. I think the monologue and repetitive nature of his thoughts is one thing holding the story back, and that comes through in the nature of the prose. Lightening it up and making things perhaps shorter and snappier would help a lot. Currently, Saturn is so weighed down by his depression and hopelessness that there is very little else to the story. Toning back the adjectives and platitudes would hugely improve the story.

Asides from a few misspellings, things were fine in the grammar department, but there were a lot of more obscure mistakes, such as capital letters in the middle of sentences and a lot of unnecessary or missing commas that makes the sentences rather confusing to read. I think a beta-reader would really help work those issues out.

Overall, I enjoyed this story a lot, and it has the potential to be an excellent character study. A breezy read made up for the many monologues, but while Saturn is the best part of the story, his internal monologue is also its downside. Fixing up the errors and injecting some more urgency and development into the plot would greatly benefit the story. I look forward to seeing what happens next!

 

[AetherX]

Hello! Awards review here.

This is a simple and yet intriguing idea that you have going here. Saturn reels in the aftermath of the events at Spear Pillar, trying to reconcile himself and turn Galactic back into a functional organization. It's an interesting concept and a great backdrop for a character study of someone whose life has been turned upside down, but ultimately that's all it is. The plot hasn't progressed much, and I get the feeling that it's not going to. It doesn't seem like that's the point of the story, which is okay. Characterization is the whole point of the fic, really. Side characters are pretty much nonexistent, but the exploration into the psyche of someone who has essentially been brainwashed into a cult is interesting. Saturn is a complex character, and this look into his mind is a very original and interesting concept. Most of my issues with it would probably be better described as issues with the style.

The minimalist, jagged sentence approach to writing can be interesting sometimes. It sounds almost poetic at first, and maintains that air during the dream sequences, but by the beginning of Set: 002 it was starting to wear on me. The sentences are short, often interspersed with seemingly random commas, and use weird metaphors that take me a second to understand. It's hard to tell the difference between a typo and a stylistic choice, which isn't a great place to be. The minimalist style also doesn't lend itself well to vivid settings or a complex world. There's some decent description of the Galactic headquarters and just a pinch of worldbuilding, but again, the whole point of this fic seems to be Saturn in isolation. That's less a criticism and more an observation of what the the story is supposed to be about.

Overall, an interesting idea that relies a little too heavily on a style that makes the story hard to follow, for me at least (I know several people who really like this kind of stuff, though). It has a slightly hollow sense of profundity. I'm a fan of pretentiousness (I use that word in the most endearing of fashions) when it's done well, but here it just stretches out the story into something a little too abstract for my tastes. I can't help but feel like most of my negative feelings towards the story are entirely subjective, but there are still some definite flaws.

It's damn good for a first fic, though. Keep up the good work. I look forward to seeing where this goes.