Book Four : Forsaken, Chapter 4- Reason For It All
"Hey, wait up, babe," a gaunt, sickly figured cried out to the girl ahead.
"You again?" she sighed deeply. "Leave me alone. I'm not in the mood."
"Ah, now cheer up, babe. Don't be so glum," he insisted while darting into her path, which she altered several times to avoid him. "There's no reason to ruin a pretty face like that with worry, Jacquelyn." A sharp look came from her to her stalker.
"How did you find out my name?" she questioned, disturbed by the fact.
"I have my ways," he whispered with a grin, his dazzling white teeth not varying much from his pale skin. "Besides, it isn't too hard finding out things about someone with your reputation."
"Hey, yeah, that's great," Jacquelyn feigned interest. "Can you leave me be now? I have some important things that to be done... personal things." Her eyes squinted, filled with pain, as she spoke.
"Awww, c'mon, doll," he continued while still in pursuit of her, pushing his short, black hair from out his face. "You know we're made for each other. If there's anything bothering you, I'd take care of it. I'd do anything for you."
"You don't say? Well, if you wanted to," she thought up, "you could climb that mountain over there." Her finger guided him to the ever present peaks that rose from the landscape, visible for miles around. Treacherous and frigid in the summer, the warmer months were a long time passed.
"What... would that accomplish, exactly?" he questioned the request with a sunken face.
"Well, kid, it'd get you away from me," she blatantly admitted, "and, if I'm lucky, you'd die." His pace gradually slowed but not from the crushing pain of her forgetting his name. As he stared at the mountain in deep thought, a wicked idea came to his head.
"Die, huh? That doesn't sound like too bad of an idea," he stated as a devilish smile grew on his face. "Don't worry, Jacquelyn," the boy shouted as she proceeded down the road by herself, "I'll do that, and then, maybe, you'll remember the name of Jack Edward Daws."
The same worn path had grown over in the years that passed. Again, Jacquelyn was on the trail, returning after a long mission. A gathering of self proclaimed fanatic were following her as she trekked, ignored like usual. Someone else was travelling the road, heading the opposite way very slowly, dragging something behind himself, with a strange aura about them. Long, unkempt hair hung over his head and face. A worn coat hung over his sickly frame, still bearing some frost on it from his travels. He walked right past the girl and her roaming band, never swaying his neck or an eye. He certainly had caught her attention, however, stopping her dead in her tracks.
"Do I know you?" she squeaked, almost too afraid to speak to the stranger.
"You don't know me at all," he answered, never breaking his gradual step. She continued looking at the man for an unknown reason. Finally, the dragging of his feet against the dirt path stopped as his head slowly cranked towards her, just a little. "By the way, sorry I didn't die." He resumed his crawl along the road, dragging a large orb wrapped in chain. The vessel shook violently with beams of light cracking through its seam. She remained staring at him with uncertainty, not sure of anything about him other than the strange feeling he gave her. It was long before she changed her course and dashed to catch up with the stranger.
"My name's Jacquelyn," she blurted out, "Jacquelyn Hopkins."
"Jack Edward Daws," he replied, still not looking at her. She chuckled at hearing the name.
"Jack, eh? Sounds like we were made for each other." He only smiled.
It did not take long for the two to dominate the tournament circuit. Every trainer knew and feared the name of the duo within a few months, but that is all it would last. Before long, the day came that it rained.
"Bastard," roared Jack over the thunder with his bloodied hands held high in rage, the red lingering despite the downpour. "You killed her! You killed all that I had! I'll make you pay! All of you!" The walls of the base had been smashed and burned. Rubble littered the floor along with charred corpses. A crested drake slit the throats of those who still moved while its master advanced further. "But it is you who shall suffer the most. It is you who did the deed." A wavering finger pointed straight at a man in black garb standing near a small shack. The crimson R on his uniform and the dagger in his belt seemed to glow with the flashes of the storm.
"We do what we must to survive," the Rocket coldly stated. "She had something we needed, we took it. Do you really think that you can stop us? All of us?" Another wave of grunts poured forth at the generals's command, and it quickly became another wave destroyed in a rushing tide of fire. Vicious rage burned within Mooky as he tore through the ranks like paper.
"The only reason you aren't already rivets is because I want you to know pain," Jack explained in a choking voice. The Rocket became startled as the door behind him opened and a woman staggered out.
"What are you doing? You're in no condition to fight," the man yelled at her in a hushed voice.
"Well, I'm not going to sit there while you die," she snapped while pulling out her lot of PokeBalls. "Either we kill him together or die together."
"I can tell you which it is going to be," Jack snarled as he held up a large sphere bound in metal links. The couple released a swarm of monsters, all they had at their disposal, the prize picks of their plunders. Jack never got to see them. As he gave the command, Mooky leapt and gave a single cut to the chains before vanishing from sight. The orb exploded with a cold light as the goddess of the mountains revealed herself. Crystalline wings shimmered majestically in the darkness as a stunning testament to its beauty before it turned into a complete beast. A single flap of its wings turned the falling rain into spears of ice. The entire legion, and what remained of the Rocket's immense stronghold, was shattered in an instant. All that remained were two dying Rockets. Quickly resealing the spirit of ice, he trotted over to his next victims.
"What... what was that?" the Rocket struggled to get out.
"The prize for cheating a freezing death," Jack coldly stated while looking down at the crumbled man. "... Nice knife," he noted. "I bet it hurts."
After all the screams of torment and suffering, Jack realized there was another voice crying out all this time. Suspecting another lowly thief, he held the still dripping blade high and ventured to its source. The shed the woman had emerged from, now mostly destroyed, was set up rather oddly for a bandit's outpost. There were supplies in there that were not typical for a rogue. They seemed to be those found in a nursery. The reason quickly became obvious.
Jack emerged from the woods, entering his hometown with some additional luggage. Flubit, vigilant on his porch with Behemoth, leaned forward at the unmistakable sound.
"My, my, who had the special delivery?" Staggering in a daze, Jack was oblivious to the question. From his years of blindness, he was able to identify the individual from subtle hints. "Why, Jack, you have a baby with you? I didn't think you and Jacquelyn were... Well, I guess that's none of my business. Although, I wish you wouldn't keep things like that from an old friend. Where is the girl? I want to congratulate her." Jack's head cranked towards his old friend as he cradled the infant.
"Jacquelyn..." he spoke gravely. "She's... not with us. She didn't make it."
"Oh," Flubit gasped solemnly. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Jack. I know how much she meant to you..." His head tilted down to the child, the spawn of the man he hated more than anything, the man he tortured and brutally killed. His head flooded with emotions, but one thing surfaced above the rest of the madness: a simple proposition. "Do you really think you can stop us? All of us?" Jack repeated. "I think I will."
"What was that?" the old friend questioned. Jack's demeanor changed sharply as a wide grin returned to his face, filled with the same, sinister hint that was usual for him.
"Nothing, Flubit. Nothing at all," he assured. "I got a question for you, though, ol' pal. I know it's kind of early, but do you think you watch the little one for a while. There are some important things I have left unfinished." His eyes squinted, filled with ire, as he spoke.
"Well, of course, Jack," he agreed. "I'll raise her like my own. Have... you decided on a name yet?" The pale man peered down at the babe through his thick glasses, staring at his hardly. There was a certain resemblance that he hated to admit to, but it was, all of it, done in her honor.
"Jacquelyn," he said, "Jacquelyn Daws."
