“Whispers in the Dark”

Chapter 5: First to Blame

By: Crichton55

A/N: Attention readers. We are making our final approach into Chapter 5: First to Blame. I’d like to personally thank you for reading the previous chapters of the “Whispers in the Dark” saga. Upon arrival, make sure your seats and tray-tables are in their upright and locked positions, please watch your step and thank you for reading Crichton55 Fanfictions!

Disclaimer: I swear! I don’t own this (insert preferred adjective here)!!!!

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Ash’s eyes shot open as his consciousness swiftly returned to him, flooding his vision with a tile ceiling lit by low amounts of artificial light. He closed his eyes in frustration and let out a stifled groan, wishing that it was all a dream, a very sick and twisted dream from which he knew he could not awake. “God help me…”

Misty’s disgruntled grunt followed by her usual sharp voice suddenly pierced the dimly lit room as soon as the words had escaped Ash’s lips. “What difference does it make if God helps you now, Ketchum?!” she snapped in apparent annoyance. Ash didn’t bother to open his eyes. He merely lay there on the floor on which he had awakened, his mind still in suppressed disbelief that they had been overwhelmed that easily. “It doesn’t make any difference, Misty. We’re screwed anyway,” he responded flatly.

Misty let loose a deep growling noise, but it was Brock’s voice that permeated the room. “How can you be that negative, Ash? There are other options other that fighting Team Rocket single-handedly,” he groaned, sounding as though he had his chin resting on the palms of his hands. Ash sighed and rose to his feet, striding over to where the sound of his friend’s voice had originated, stopping when his face was within two feet from Brock’s. Blood was now thundering through his brain, carrying with it a surge of sudden anger and hatred.

“Well now, why don’t you tell that to the tens of thousands of people who will die in the meantime!” Ash shouted in Brock’s face, taking advantage of his look of surprise at Ash’s sudden invasion of personal space. Brock quickly regained his composure, lifting his head from his hands and laying them on his lap. “Is that really your concern? Or is it Misty and your precious Pokemon you wish to protect?” he quizzed calmly, afraid to break his eye contact with his friend for fear of losing the abrupt argument.

The antagonism that purged Ash’s mind of all other extra thought began to recede slightly at the thought of Misty and his Pokemon. He dropped his gaze to the floor and sighed once more, granting more space between him and Brock. “That’s family, Brock. Everything starts with family. I thought surely even you would know that by now.”

Disappointed in his buddy’s faith in him, Ash turned around and walked over to what was left of a wooden bench that Misty was sitting on. She appeared to have lost whatever interest she might have had in the heated argument that had released its hold on the two trainers, for she now eyed the floor with a blank expression plastered on her face. Ash sat down slowly beside his girlfriend, who made no action to acknowledge the fact that he had taken a seat beside her. He glanced around at the white room that surrounded them and came to the realization that it was a jail cell, complete with steel bars guarding against their escape through the only possible way out of the enclosed space. His attention soon returned to Misty after seeing that there were no windows in the small prison. The redhead continued to eye the floor.

Ash attempted to hold the hand that had apparently long since dropped to his love’s side, an action to which she sighed and looked him in the eye. “Do you really love me that much, Ash? Are you really willing to risk your own life to save me?” she asked softly, lifting her gaze from the floor to the boy she loved so much, the man that had matured so much in the last day. Ash stared at her blankly, but it was Brock that spoke up first.

“Of course he loves you, Misty. He almost got us all killed back there just because he was too stubborn to realize that we were screwed when we entered this place!” Brock’s voice intensified with each passing word he spoke, letting them ring out in the confined cell. The silence echoed throughout the room as Ash’s temper returned, his momentary hatred of the Gym Leader clouding his mind of normal thought and reason. This guy was really starting to piss him off.

“Someone puts a gun to your head, Brock. What do you do? What do you do?” he inquired, letting the fury-laden words quickly spill over his lips in rapid succession. “You defend yourself,” he added slowly before Brock had time to answer the hypothetical question. Ash got up and returned to his friend’s side of the cell, face to face with his temporary enemy once more.

“Easy for you to say, Ash. No-one’s got a gun pointed to your-” Brock began calmly, but was instantly cut off by Ash. “Oh, GOD, Brock! Everyone that has a shirt that’s got a big red ‘R’ written on it has got a weapon pointed at my head!! You wanna know why? ‘Cause my head’s the winner-take-all prize because I did everything in my power to piss Team Rocket off one too many times. So, yeah, go ahead and blame me all you want! It still isn’t helping us get out of this damn place!” Ash roared, his face crimson with pure anger and hatred.

“Am I to assume that you have any bright ideas of escape?” Misty snapped from across the room. Ash turned to face her, eyes blazing with fury. “You know what, Misty? I don’t have any bright ideas of escape. I wish I did, but I don’t…unless…” His eyes lost the ferocious gaze it had possessed, his face relinquishing its red tinge and returning to its normal tan color. “Unless what?” Misty questioned.

Ash did not answer immediately. Rather, he shut his eyes and began to attempt to block out all other conscious thought, focusing on his lost ditch effort of escape. Mewtwo, if you can hear me, help us. He forced the thought through his tired, aching mind with increasing amounts of concentration, sweat beginning to drip down from his forehead. Ash waited for a few seconds, only to be greeted by nothing but the distant chatter of guards in deep conversation. He opened his eyes, grunting in frustration.

CRASH! The steel rod door barring their escape was ripped clean off its hinges and thrown from the doorway, landing twenty feet from where it started. Ash’s eyes flew open at the sound of the disturbance that had caused Misty and Brock to fall to the floor in surprise. He eyed the smoking doorframe, the unmistakable shape of Mewtwo floating within a large purple barrier about two feet off the ground.

“Should’ve gone with your gut and entered through the side door, you fool,” he growled impatiently, putting an emphasis on the word “side”. Ash merely smiled despite the Pokémon’s not-so-friendly welcome. “That’s a hell of a greeting,” he chuckled, wiping the large amount of sweat from his face. Mewtwo frowned. “Never mind that, Ash. You’ve got to get you and your friends out of here and fast!” The psychic Pokémon’s voice was forceful yet full of anxiety, conscious of the imminent danger that he knew was sprinting towards the small jail cell with automatic weapons at the ready.

Ash shook his head and glanced around at his two friends that had gotten to their feet and walked over to him. He knew that his top priority was to destroy the machine that Mewtwo told him about. He was aware of the consequences of his possible failure, a likelihood that continued to haunt him. “No, Mewtwo. I know what I have to do,” he protested quickly, unlatching one of his PokeBalls from his belt and enlarging it, looking back at the psychic Pokémon with his trademark determined stare and putting an arm around Misty’s shoulders. “I have to save the ones I love.”

Mewtwo stared at the young Pokémon trainer with a hard glare for a few seconds. Accepting defeat, he sighed deeply. “If you must, Ash, but you must be quick! The Rocket Grunts will shoot you on sight if you’re not careful,” Mewtwo advised, not averting his stare from Ash and the others.

A large purple barrier formed around Ash, Misty, and Brock and began to glow with extrasensory power. “I can supply you with a shield that will protect you for no more than ten minutes. You must get to the southwest wing of this building in that amount of time! That is where they keep the machine you must destroy.” Mewtwo’s hard and stern voice echoed throughout the small room as the sound of foot-soldiers stampeding towards them grew louder with each passing second.

Ash continued to beam at Mewtwo through the amethyst force-field, nodding his head to show his appreciation. “Thank you, Mewtwo. I owe you,” he said to the distorted Pokémon that hovered before him. Mewtwo shook his bony head, his expression transforming into a soft and caring stare that momentarily purged Ash’s mind of all worry and dread. “No, Ash. I owe you one. I wish I could help you more than this, though.” Mewtwo gestured towards the purple shield that housed the three trainers.

Ash frowned, releasing Misty from his arm and sticking his hand out in front of him, palm-down without taking his eyes off the Pokémon. “We’re all a team, Mewtwo. That means we stick together, no matter what.” He motioned to his outstretched hand.

“No matter what,” Misty agreed as she placed her hand on his and fixated a hard stare on Mewtwo. The warmth of Misty’s palm on the back of Ash’s hand flowed through him like water through a drainage pipe as he leaned over and gave her a peck on her crimson cheek. “Thank you, Misty.”

Brock reluctantly positioned his own hand on top of Misty’s, also giving Mewtwo a glare that clearly told him that the young Gym Leader did not wish to stay for long. Realizing that his wish to leave was now overridden, the psychic Pokémon frowned and sighed deeply, for he too did not crave spending his otherwise free time being in hostile territory where the likelihood of being shot at was inevitable. “Very well. But we must hurry! We’ve already wasted enough time running our collective mouths!” he half-complained while motioning towards the door that had been savagely torn from its stone frame.

Ash, Misty, and Brock began to apprehensively walk in the direction of what was left of the heavily damaged doorframe, the purple shield that housed them moving along with their stride. As Ash stepped over the aftermath of the small explosion that had ripped the door off, he turned his tired head in the direction of the thunderous roar that permeated the long hallway that lay before them, a sound that partially drowned out the wail of the security alarm that began to howl.

“Do you suppose this alarm has gone unnoticed?!” Misty roared.

Ash did not answer. Involuntarily grabbing hold of Misty’s hand, his face transformed into an expression of pure horror upon sight of a sea of foot-soldiers that were running in their direction with no sign of slowing down. For a fraction of a second, he attempted to force his legs to begin moving in the opposite direction of certain death. Nothing happened. With an almighty wrench, he persuaded his legs to listen to his terrified brain. He turned and began to run in the opposite direction with Misty still firmly attached to Ash’s arm and Brock in hot pursuit.

The three terror-saturated teens rounded the corner fifty yards down the hall, nothing save the decreasingly faint rattle of gunfire being overridden by a loud mental ringing noise that invaded Ash’s ears. He could feel his adrenaline continue to spike furiously and time beginning to slow as he sprinted down the corridor in which he was certain he was going to die.

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A/N: Just thought I’d spice up the above author’s note a bit lol. But seriously, thanks to all who read and enjoy this fic that has been a double-edged sword to write. Also… LEAVE REVIEWS!! Can’t get enough of them!