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TEEN: The War in Heaven

ProphetL

Starving Artist
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Oct 4, 2019
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Introduction: Oh wow, yet another human-goes-to-pokemon-land fic. How original.

I made this story in my head to entertain myself, and then it got too complex to fit so...


You suffer with me now.

Rating Warning (Mild Language/Violence)

---




Act One

"The Saints"


Chapter One​


And the Angel said unto them, the Saviors of Creation, “Be well in your deeds. Be well in your hearts. Give Man’s world all with your blessings. For upon your dying breath, the last Champion will be born, and strife shall follow. The Saints of Sky, reborn from the ashes of the Brass Alter, will march armies across the land, and desecrate that which Heaven labored over millennia. The Trinity of Purification shall awaken. And when the Father returns to His stead, He will find His Creation wrought in iron and flames...”


-


I think I’m dying. At least, that’s how it feels. Everything hurts and I can’t see. It feels like I’m falling, or is everything falling around me? Is this even real? I can see a light now. A light at the end of a tunnel.


I am dying! But why? I had so much to live for.


I think.


I don’t remember.


...


I’m awake.


And alive, maybe. Everything still hurts, and I mean really hurts, but this time I can feel my own body. Whatever that was before almost seemed like a dream now. I don’t remember too much of it. In fact, I don’t remember anything about what I was doing before falling asleep, or my own life. Not a name, a date, a location, anything.


Who am I?


Who knew one question could induce so much panic? Fear begins to swell in my gut, yet I remember somehow, that amnesia is often temporary. I don’t know how I know something like that. Probably the internet. I’m choosing to believe it, because it's keeping me from freaking out for the time being.


I’m lying on a bed, I can feel the linens with my hands, the pillow I rest my head upon, and the soft weight of a blanket sitting on top of me. Parts of my body feel like they’re wrapped in cloth that I can feel stretch with any slight movement, along with soreness in my muscles. My head is throbbing, and the bones in my chest are on fire. Actually all of my bones are, but my rib cage seems to have it the worst. What the hell happened to me? I try to at least lift my arm, which only makes the burning in my chest worse. I keep trying though. I want to put my hand on my chest and feel my heartbeat, but no luck. I still can’t see, possibly because my eyes are still closed. I’m afraid to open them, thinking I’ll find myself lying before the pearly gates. Never was too religious, I think. Maybe? No, I’m certain now, not religious. So there’s something I can remember. It’s not much, but I cling to it like a child to their stuffed animal.


If I’m not religious, that won't bode well for me if I am indeed in the afterlife. There’s only one way to find out. I slowly opened my eyes.


It’s bright, and blurry, probably because I don’t have my contacts in. Wait, I wear contacts? I do! Memory number two, great. I blink a couple of times. My eyes don’t seem to want to focus, and they never will if I have to wear contacts. The light starts to hurt my head its so bright. I keep my eyes closed. The room I’m in has that sterile, hospital smell to it, so I’m in a hospital. Thank god, I am alive! I can blink, move my arms and hear, so I’m not in a coma, and I’m conscious, alive, and capable of mobility. Well, not a hundred percent sure on that last one yet. Still hurting.


I hear someone else on the other side of the room. I can’t tell what they’re doing, but I can hear a feminine voice softly humming, and what sounds like glass containers hitting each other. Probably a nurse. Maybe I should let her know I’m awake.


I planned on saying “hello” or “what’s up,” something generic like that. What came out instead was the most pathetic and pained moan, like a dying animal.


When the nurse heard my tragic call, and I wish she hadn’t, she let out a small gasp, and I heard her walk past my bed and out the door to my right, which I guess was left open. She must’ve gone to get a doctor, or my family. I’m kinda hoping my family. Maybe seeing their faces will allow me to regain some of my identity. I do have a family, right?


Finding that bit of info alarmingly harder to remember than the last few, I decided to move past it, and take another crack at opening my eyes. Brightness flooded my vision once again, but I fought against it. I wanted to see the plain, white walls, and the various machines I was hooked up to, if any. Now that I think about it, I don’t recall hearing any of those distinct beeps or hums that are typically attributed to a hospital. Maybe that’s a good thing. I struggled to keep my eyes open, a struggle that finally paid off, as the ceiling above me was in focus, and I could clearly see that there was no ceiling.


It was the sky. That intense light that hurt to look at was the damn Sun. Go figure. What kind of hospital doesn’t have a ceiling? I immediately dismissed it, choosing to believe it was a skylight, and I didn’t want to keep staring, trying to figure it out. My chest screamed in protest as I sat up, but I was beyond the point of caring. All I wanted was to sit up. Despite my aching muscles, I manage to get halfway up, leaning back on my forearms. It's enough for me to get an eyeful of my….surroundings.


First, I wasn’t in a hospital room. It was a tent. A massive tent with stone floors. The ceiling was incredibly far above me. To my left, a curtain blocked my view of the rest of the room. Across from my bed was a ridiculously oversized wooden counter, which fits the scale of the room at least. If I stood next to it I could maybe just see over the top. I noticed a smaller, person-sized wooden ladder leaning against it, which only adds to the mystery. The tent itself was a drab green. A flap in the center of the high canopy was opened to let the sunlight in, on account of that there weren’t any ceiling lights. Or lamps. Or any electrical appliances whatsoever. Just a dumpy tent. What kind of treatment am I getting here?


And why is everything so big? I can’t see the other side of the room past the curtain, but I feel so small. The bed fits, somehow, and yet I feel like I’m the size of a toddler. Am I a toddler? The mere possibility makes me shudder. I thought I was at least somewhat grown up. Dear god, I might be a midget. That thought sparks enough terror in me to keep the blanket on.


I push the ominous thoughts out of my head. Deciding the pain of sitting up to be too much, I fell back into the pillow. I squeezed my eyes closed and rubbed my temples in an attempt to alleviate the oncoming migraine. I turned onto my left side, averting my eyes from the sun. I opened my eyes to see a wooden nightstand, with an old-fashioned alarm clock resting on top. Like, really old fashioned, with the bells on top and everything.


I hope this isn’t some freaky traveled-to-another-time-or-world-with-amnesia scenario, like the kind found in bad fan-fiction. It would provide some explanations, but I have better things to do. At least, I hope so. I reached a paw to turn the clock towards me so I could at least know the…


A paw.


Not a human hand.


An animal paw.


My animal paw.





What the hell.
 
Last edited:
Bravo if you could stomach that monster cliche of a first chapter. I promise it’ll get better.


---



Chapter Two​


“Oh, Angel of the Father, how can it be so? That Heaven shall turn its back on Man and Monster to allow the destruction of all held dear? Does the Brass Altar displease the Sky and His Saints so, to inspire our annihilation? What of our worship? Our toil? We were everlasting in our faith, looking to Heaven for guidance and aid. Have we not repaid our debts? Have the Altars not given the Lords a place of rest and prayer? We, Men of the Throne, nay, all Men and Monsters of Earth, will not idle as His Creation is washed away by the tides of war! If our dying breath is never to come, perhaps then, the strife you speak of shall be prevented.”





No. Just...no.

I am human. One thing I am absolutely certain of, that no amount of brain damage could make me forget, is that I am human. Why a paw, of all things?

For awhile all I can do is stare at it. This foreign appendage that’s attached to my arm where my hand should be. I move my other arm into view, and sure enough, another paw. I look at them up and down, turning them over, still trying to confirm what my eyes are seeing. It had only three digits, and was covered in fur, blue fur. On the back, strange, white, rounded bumps that feel more metal than flesh. I don’t know what to make of this. I couldn’t see much else of my arms, as they were wrapped in bandages.

I need a mirror. There's a possibility there's one somewhere in this room, out of view. Since I can see there isn’t one on this wall, and the curtain is out of my reach, I have to get out of bed to see the rest of the room.

Which was going to be incredibly difficult, not counting the immense pain I'm in. I don’t even know if my legs work, but I need to see my face. I can’t even picture a mental image, yet there's hope in me that my own reflection staring back at me will bring back some sense of normality, or maybe even unlock memories. My strange paws gripped the sides of the bed as I try to bring myself up. I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes closed, trying to shut out the incredible fire in my nerves. My arms began to shake uncontrollably, and I lose my grip on the bed, falling ungraciously backwards for the second time, the sudden movement only serving to worsen my headache. I sigh in defeat. Maybe this is my life now. A bedridden, beast-man with no memory. That sucks. Too much for me to accept it. If I want to do the simple task of sitting up in bed, then dammit, no amount of brain damage, or broken bones is going to stop me.

I take a deep breath, and steel myself for round two. Gripping the bed once more, I decide that slow and steady won't win the race, and quickly lift myself up with every ounce of energy contained within my battered body.

And oh boy did it hurt. I nearly blacked out from the agony coursing through my every being, but I managed. I was out of breath, and my bones ached worse than before. If that was so difficult, the thought of walking across the room makes me want to break down crying. I'm not going to though. I remember now, a saying that goes, "The most dangerous kind of man, is one with nothing left to lose." Well guess what, I'm the man who doesn't know what he has to lose, and my only goal is to change that. At least it was, because now the nurse is back. We locked eyes as soon as she entered the room, and I then came to a sudden realization.

I was still dreaming.

Because staring me dead in the eye, holding a clipboard, was a Pokemon.

A bloody Pokemon.



What's a Pokemon?



Its fiction. A fictional universe that takes the form of video games and television shows.



The panic alarm is ringing again. Let's take stock of the situation before I lose my mind, assuming I haven’t already.

My inside voice is screaming, but my outside is silent. Half of me believes I'm still asleep, and I'm experiencing a hyper-realistic fever dream. But deep down, I know the pain in my body to be real. A name floats into my mind, Kirlia. It's not my name, it's the Pokemon's name? No, not her actual name, her species. And a shiny one at that. What does shiny mean? A different coloration. Kirlias have green “hair”, this one has blue. I wish I had control over the timing of these memories. The shock of seeing a fictional animal in three-dimensional reality coupled with random words and definitions popping into my brain must've put the dumbest look on my face, because the Kirlia is throwing me a very concerned smile.

She walked through the entrance, stopping at the foot of my bed. Behind her, walks in yet another Pokemon, a...Hypno...wearing a stethoscope, and it's trademark pendulum dangling from its left hand. The most shocking part was their size. It’s hard to tell laying in the bed, but the Kirlia at least seemed to be about my height. The Hypno, on the other hand, loomed over her and I, its daunting presence contrasting its otherwise doctor-ly appearance. It came to stand next to the Kirlia. She handed the Hypno her clipboard, who appeared to look it over. Like he was reading it.

"Severe concussion," he spoke. He freaking spoke, "Lacerations all over. A few broken ribs. Broken leg. Torn tendons in all limbs,

“And to top it all off, you've been asleep for two weeks."

My eyes widened. Two weeks. Funny thing, my first concern was who changed the bedpan. My eyes flicked back to the Kirlia, still wearing that look of pity.

"Tell me, son," the Hypno was now looking at me, "What's the last thing you can remember?"

When I began to speak I noticed my mouth was hanging open the entire time, "Uh.." I said dumbly. I contemplated my next course of action, of which I had incredibly few options. My fight or flight response was starting to kick in, yet I was in no condition to do either. I wasn’t coming out of this bizarre dream of my own free will, so the best I could do was play along with it, for now. "Waking up," I replied.

"Hmm," the Hypno looked back at the clipboard, "What's today's date?"

I've been trying to remember that for the last ten minutes. All I could do was shake my head at him.

"Can you tell me your name?"

I gave him the first one I could think of, though I was distinctly aware that it wasn't my own. "Arjay."

"O-kay," he scribbled something down on the clipboard, "Last name?" I merely shrugged.

"Residence?" I shrugged.

More scribbling, “Mother’s maiden name?”

I spoke this time, "Don't know."

"Well," he said conclusively, "We'll go ahead and tack on post-traumatic amnesia too."

His tone was so nonchalant. Guess doctors from both worlds share that trait. Wonder how many trips to the hospital I’ve taken to know that? The Kirlia seemed a little bothered as well, but kept quiet. The Hypno finished writing, and handed the clipboard back to the nurse.

"Let's get introductions out of the way, I'm Doctor Quack,” he’s not even a water type, “and this is Nicks. She’ll be your nurse for the duration of your stay," at the mention of her name, Nicks gave a little wave.

"You're going to be with us for quite awhile, Arjay, lots of healing to do. Several months worth, in fact. You're currently in the town of Harbinger, which is within guild territory on mainland Sinnoh, near the western coast. A patrol found you alone and half-dead in the outlying woods, attacked by something fierce, and we didn't think you'd make it through the first few nights.”

His tone was straightforward, and blunt, as if I was the hundredth schmuck who came in on the verge of death. He attached the clipboard to the foot of the bed, “The amnesia should wear off in an hour or two. Nicks, all you." With that he turned and exited the tent, leaving me with even more questions than answers. Half-dead in the woods? Doesn't sound like me. Then again, it doesn’t sound like me to wake up in Pokemon land either. Today is just full of surprises.

"If you need anything," Nicks piped up, "Just use this." She placed a small bell on the nightstand. Like the kind you’d use to summon a butler.

"Actually," I said slowly, still attempting to process the bombardment of information thrown at me, "I could use a mirror."

-


“Dare, would you, to reject His will? To fight destiny is fruitless, and to pursue the path of the Heretics will only bringeth plagues upon your houses. The Sky’s wrath will not be the cause of any one action, but is merely the cost of an immortal memory.”



-


Riolu. That’s what I am now.

To say something like, “The reflection staring back at me was not my own,” is the poetic way of putting it. Experiencing it in the most literal sense is making me want to vomit.

I stare into the handheld mirror, courtesy of Nicks, for what seems like forever. This...dog-like thing, staring back at me. This is a nightmare, isn’t it? Ripped away from a life I can’t even remember, stuffed into this broken, alien body, and left with no money, belongings, or home to speak of. I was terrified on the inside, and I wondered if the doctor, or anyone in this world, would believe me if I said that I was once human. Do humans even exist here? The mere possibility invokes an intense loneliness within me that overshadows the pain in my body. Now it was turning into anger. Did someone bring me here on purpose? Who and why? Can they send me back? Would they?

I’d make them if I had to.

I continue staring into the mirror. My right eye is blackened and swollen. I reached up to touch it and flinched upon contact. My head is wrapped in bandages. I feel around it, trying to pinpoint where I was hit. There it was. Right behind my left ear. I gasped sharply, reacting much as I had with my eye. That’s probably what did my memory in.

I let my arm holding the mirror drop into my lap. The pounding in my head is back, and the sunlight flooding the room is starting to wear my eyes out. I close them, and fall back into the bed, slowly this time. I rub my temples with my other hand in frustration, and pain. Now that the initial shock of the situation has worn off, more disturbing questions start to float around in my mind. How am I going to pay for treatment? What am I going to do when I’m released? Will I have to get a job? Do Pokemon have jobs? The Hypno doctor should be evidence enough of that last one at least.

What a fine mess I’m in.

Nicks cleared her throat. I forgot she was still here. “Anything else? Maybe some food?”

I opened my eyes at the mention of food. Food sounds pretty good. I haven’t noticed how hungry I was until she mentioned food. Which does beg the question though, what is my diet now that I’m an animal.

“Food sounds good, and something for the pain too,” The way she breaks eye contact suggests I sounded a little more demanding than I meant to. I can’t be bothered to care,

“I’ll take care of the pain first, then I’ll get some food,” she said softly. For a nurse, she was awfully apprehensive. And always with that god-forsaken smile.

I don’t say anything back. I merely close my eyes, and try to focus on something positive. I don’t get to do so for long, as I notice a strange, pink glow shining against my eyelids. I let out a small groan of irritation as I open them once more.

Nicks is now standing right on the edge on the right side of the bed, her hands hovering inches above my body, shining with a soft pink light. “What in the-” I yelp, attempting to sit up and make a move to stop her, the pain keeping me down. Nicks jumped back, startled at the loud cry, the glow in her hands fading.

“Whatcha doin’ there?!” I say accusingly.

“Oh-I,” she stuttered, “I was giving you something for the pain, like you asked.”

“I meant ibuprofen or something.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “I don’t know what that is.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. Magic healing it was. I’ll just close my eyes and try not to think about the fact that modern medicine doesn’t exist in this world.

The glowing returned. I’ll admit, after a few seconds, it seemed to do the trick. The aching in my chest and limbs began to fade, and my muscles relaxed. I dare say it’s more effective than ibuprofen. Makes me feel guilty for snapping at her.

“That’s good,” I say more carefully, “Thank you.” The glow faded, and I hear her exit the room without another word.

With the pain gone, and the stress of my current situation taking its toll, I feel myself being tugged back to sleep. Part of me resists, for fear of not waking up for another two weeks, but eventually it gives, and I slowly begin to nod off.

-


“The Demon and the Sister Emissary watch from the Mirror World, waiting out the coming storm.”

“Like cowards.”

“And out of our way.”
 
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