TPJerematic
Photo ALL of the Pokemon
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Dark Freedom
Welcome to this story.
This story is rated [15] for coarse language, violence, gore and sexual themes. If you are likely to be offended by such content then please click here. I hold no responsibily for any and all effects on you by reading this work of fiction.
This Pokémon fanfic takes place in the fan created Actopon Region of the Pokémon world.
Map of the Actopon Region
For more infomation about the Actopon Region: Click here.
This story takes place in an Alternate Universe to Cherish the Moments.
N.B. The “dates” used are merely numbers in indicate the progress on time thought out the story. So when it says 1985 ... it’s isn’t literally 1985 as we know it. I just didn’t want to make it complicated for myself to write and you to read by using. “13th December Twenty years ago.”
N.B. When a characters speech is shown in square brackets, [Like this], it means that the actual word used by Pokémon would not be understood by a human and the English equivalent is used.
DISCLAIMER: POKÉMON IS NOT MINE; THIS STORY IS. I AM ALLOWED TO USE POKÉMON AS LONG I SAY THAT THEY BELONG TO NINTENDO/GAME FREAK. HOWEVER THE STORY, CHARATERS AND REGION BELONG TO ME.
****Special Thanks to Blazaking Ex and Aori for the banners.
Chapter List
Chapter 1: A Cruel Beginning
Chapter 2: A New Life for a New Sneasel
Chapter 1: A Cruel Beginning.
Twenty Five years ago, there was a conflict in the Actopon Region.
Thousands upon thousands of Pokémon attacked the Human population. Some were fighting for revenge against trainers who had abandoned them. Others wished to avenge the death of their friends, blaming Human activities for the deaths. Many simply wanted to be free of Humanity, to force all the Humans away from their region.
There were some who just wanted to kill...
The history books will tell you all of this; they tell of many differing groups of Pokémon rising up against Humanity. All are tarred with the same brush, each group of Pokémon wanted to kill all the Humans in Actopon and take the region for themselves. Fighting against each other for their own selfish gain.
But as the saying goes, “History is written by the victors.” And there is no exception for the history of this conflict.
I am looking for a Pokémon who you won’t find in any school history text book. Hell, it was hard finding out about him from the hundreds of books written about the conflict. And yet, he played a vital role in the conflict. His actions saved the lives of countless Pokémon and Humans, and stabilised the deep fractures between Pokémon and Humans that the conflict created. However he isn’t a hero... he was on the side of the uprising.
I took it upon myself to find this Pokémon; I had heard that after the conflict he had fled to Icebourne Mountain, to hide himself away from the world so he could live out his days in peace. When I got to Icebourne City I asked the Leader of the Frost Gym, James, if he had heard of the Pokémon and if the rumours about the Pokémon being on Icebourne Mountain were true.
His reply was indecisive. James said he had heard of the Pokémon, a Sneasel, and knew of a rarely seen elderly Sneasel that hid itself away on the mountain. However even the Sneasel’s gender was unknown.
After much deliberation, I gathered a group of Pokémon and attempted to find this Sneasel. I took with a camera and a voice recorder to keep a record of my endeavour. I refused the offer of assistance from James, I was going to be carrying six of the strongest Pokémon I had.
After several days climbing I saw a glimpse of a Sneasel standing on an out cropping. I scrambled to get my camera, however before I could get a better look the Sneasel scurried off, apparently unaware of my presence. With the help of my Pokémon I followed the trail the Sneasel had left behind, thankful for my Skarmory’s ability to fly back to Icebourne City, helping to keep me supplied with food.
A couple of days later I found the Sneasel once again, this time standing at the mouth of a small cave on the north face of Icebourne Mountain. The Pokémon seemed to be holding a flashlight, a beam of yellow light illuminating the falling snow as the Sneasel scanned the cliff face. The wind helped stop my scent from reaching the Sneasel, allowing me to slowly climb towards the cave. As I approached, I saw that the Sneasel was definitely old enough to have been around during the uprising. I slowly climbed up to the cave and hid next to the entrance, I peered around the edge. The Sneasel was sitting on the floor at the back of the cave, looking out at the falling snow. Our eyes met and I slowly entered the cave...
***
“A Human?” The solitary Sneasel spoke from the back of the small, dank cave hidden on one the north face of Icebourne Mountain. “It has been many years since I have been this close to one. I know it is not common for Pokémon to speak the Human language. I am rather special.” The Sneasel walked forward from the back of the cave, his face coming into the shaft of light emitted from the flashlight on the floor. The light showed the aging Sneasel, along with the scars that years of fighting had left.
“I forget my manners. I am Sneasel ... I have no other name.” Sneasel scoffed slightly as he thought of days long past. “A name became meaningless to Pokémon such as myself, during those dark days; all those years ago.” Sneasel looked up, his piercing red eyes looking at the Human who had entered his hidden sanctuary. “You cannot be here by accident. You must wish to know more than you are taught about that brutal fight.” The Human nodded. “Well come in and sit. I will gladly tell you my story ... on the condition that you tell others. Do you have a recording device?” The Human reached into his hiking bag, pulling out a metal object with various buttons. “Excellent.” The Human silently pressed a button with a red circle, on the object and placed it on the ground in front of Sneasel.
“I am Sneasel.” Sneasel spoke with a mixture of pride and shame in his voice. “A Pokémon who ... fought ... for what he felt was right, during the Pokémon Uprising.” Sneasel looked out of the cave at the slowly falling snow. “And I am going to tell you my story. It’s going to take a while ... it happened years ago.” Sneasel brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “For me ... it all started on a cold, miserable day.”
***
(8th of January 1990)
***
A young Sneasel dashed through the dark alleyways of Lightvale City. A soft thud or splash filling the air with each fleeting step. The drizzle coming from the gray sky hampered his vision and made most of the sharp and dangerous things on the ground impossible to see. In his paws he held the remains of a smashed Pokéball. The words of the Human who he had called master rang in his ears.
“Useless, piece of shit Sneasel.” The voice of his master had turned from its usual warmth, to cold and angered abuse. “You should have easily beaten those pathetic Geodude and Onix that dumb hiker had, after all the training I’ve given you.” Tears began to form in Sneasel’s eyes as he repeated the words in his head. “It was a waste of time training you if you couldn’t hurt a wimpy Geodude; without it ripping you too shreds with a Rock Throw.” Sneasel looked down at the broken Pokéball in his paws. “Get out of my sight.” Sneasel flinched as he remembered the kick to the chest the Human had given him before using his Ninetales to scare him away with his fire attacks.
Sneasel turned and ran along another back alley, a bolt of lightning flashing in the sky before the thunder boomed. Sneasel turned to look towards the flash of lightning, taking his eyes off the concrete in front of him. He clipped a broken pavement and tripped, the pieces of Pokéball went flying as Sneasel slammed onto the cold hard concrete.
Sneasel cried out in pain, his body aching from the uncushioned blow. He looked up to see the pieces of his Pokéball strewn out in front of him before whimpering and placing his paws forward to stand. However, the second he put any weight on his palms a searing pain shot through him. Sneasel collapsed back down onto the wet concrete; he rolled onto his side and brought his paws up, they were covered in his blood. Blood from the deep cuts caused from the shards of the Pokéball slicing the skin as he hit the ground.
Sneasel opened his mouth. “H ... Help!” he yelled in vein. Even if any Humans who were brave enough to weather the storm were able to hear the pitiful cries of the young Sneasel, they would hear nothing more than his name.
The unrelenting drizzle splashed down on Sneasel. The water stung his eyes as a few more tears trickled out. Sneasel lay on the ground as if paralysed, the blood from his paws staining the concrete.
Minutes turned into hours as Sneasel lay unmoving on the blood stained concrete, his body soaked with rain, his eyes bloodshot from crying and his paws aching, each beat of his heart causing another few drops of blood to trickle out. Sneasel’s mind was filled with misery, as the words of his trainer kept repeating themselves along with the intense sense of worthlessness they brought. His eyes began to droop as the blood loss from the cuts on his paws and body started to take effect. Sneasel’s world started to swirl and twist as his eyes played tricks with his muddled mind.
Just as Sneasel was about to let go, to allow the bliss of unconsciousness to take him, he saw a large bird land on the ground in front of him. Sneasel shook his head to regain some form of vision. A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the Honchkrow looking down at the young Sneasel. He flinched as he saw a swarm of Murkrow in the sky above him; fearing the worse Sneasel curled into a ball and sobbed. Master is right ... I am weak. He thought to himself.
The Honchkrow walked towards Sneasel and bent over, bringing her beak next to Sneasel’s face. “Why are you here, young Sneasel ... alone and bleeding in this filthy alley?” The Honchkrow spoke in a soft and feminine yet commanding tone. Sneasel slowly uncurled himself; he tried to wipe his eyes with his bloody paws but winced as blood splashed into them. The Honchkrow brought one of her wings to Sneasel’s eyes, wiping them dry. “I am Patriot.” Honchkrow introduced herself, as she used her wing to shield Sneasel from the rain. “I saw you lying here, while searching in the storm for Pokémon. As I saw you I felt an unusual presence in my heart.” Sneasel sniffled and looked up into the vibrant ruby eyes of Patriot with his own dull red.
“A ... a presence?” Sneasel whimpered as he sputtered out his words. “You must be wrong ... I’m just a pathetic, worthless Sneasel.” He shuddered as he thought of the harsh words from his trainer.
“If you think like that ... you are worthless ... and I do not like to waste my time with Pokémon who are not strong enough to fight back.” Patriot brought her wings back; Sneasel flinched as the rain once again started to drench his skin. “Now. I’m offering you a chance to become more powerful than you could become as a puppet of a Human.” Patriot extended her wing and tipped her body slightly. “Climb on and I’ll take you to a group of Pokémon like you. Pokémon who have been abused and left to suffer by Humans and now work together to bring them down.”
Sneasel felt another pair of wings slide under his body, helping him to his feet. He looked at the shattered remains of his Pokéball and sighed. “I ... I want ...”
“Revenge?” Patriot smiled as she watched Sneasel’s miserable face slowly become angry.
“Yes ... revenge.” Sneasel growled as he spoke. He turned to Patriot with determination on his face. “I want to make him suffer.”
“Good.” Patriot helped Sneasel onto her back. She cawed into the sky, a bellowing rousing cry, a call to arms. Sneasel grabbed on to Patriot’s feathers as she took off into the dark rainy sky, the flock of Darkness Pokémon a moving mass of ominous black in the dark sky. Sneasel finally drifted off into a restless sleep as he flew on the back of the Honchkrow.
***
(Present Day)
***
Sneasel looked down at his paws; the scars caused by the shattered Pokéball were still visible. “That was my beginning.” Sneasel coughed to clear his throat. “I had been hatched by my trainer and knew little of a world outside of Human Pokémon battling and training.” Sneasel blinked and turned away as he felt the sting of tears forming in his eyes. “Patriot saved me from death that day.” Sneasel sighed as he wiped his eyes.
“I can’t remember what happened on the flight from Lightvale City. Or much of what happened when I first arrived at the camp.” Sneasel looked out of the cave, a pained look on his aging face. “I was dizzy from the loss of blood. They rushed me to a basic healing ...” Sneasel looked up as he thought. “...Station is the closest thing you could call it.” Sneasel sighed. “It will be hard to explain some things in the Human language but I will endeavour to try.” Sneasel ran one of his paws along another scar on his forehead. He winced as he felt the deep mark under his fingers.
“I don’t remember much of my first day at the camp. I was drifting in and out of consciousness as I rested.” Sneasel coughed violently for a few seconds before regaining his composure. “The next full day I can remember must have been the must have been ... my ... second at the camp.”
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