Hard Time
Ch.1
Hello there party people, it is I your old friend the Helpless Romantic. I'm back from a loooooooooooong vacation, but hey, at least I brought a gift. This is my next and newest project story, it is honestly just ne trying out a new type of story-line. It will contain some characters from my most popular story Somewhere in the Shadows (which I am working on as well) but don't get too excited, it's not Bella and Flint. Still I hope everyone enjoys it…..I'm back baby!
Crazy today, the Helpless Romantic
"I just don't like this place chief. It gives me the creeps."
"Relax Marret; it's only for a few minutes. I've been here hundreds of time, doing the exact same thing, nothing to worry about."
In the early evening of a cold autumn morning, two officers of the law stepped out of their squad car and unlocked the back of the holding cell. The presiding officer, the chief, was an experienced lady Zangoose who had indeed seen her fair share of criminals both malevolent and almost benign put away.
Her Wartortle acquaintance, Marret, was less experienced and far more jumpy. His worried mood was certainly not helped by the chill fall air that sent shivers down his spine…and of course it was impossible to feel too safe when you were visiting the House on the Hill.
"Wait, you've been inside the House chief?" Marret asked incredulously.
She stopped opening the back doors of the car. "Well…no, not actually…inside." She stumbled. "I mean, you've heard the rumors, right? Criminals go in, like our friend here, and shipments of supplies, but that's it. And of course even fewer get—" her explanation was cut off as the back doors were swung open suddenly and a figure burst out, making a run down the hill as fast as its awkward feet would carry it.
"Ah, cripes." The chief cursed under her breath. "Marret, you stay here I'll get the big guy." Without waiting for a response she bounded after the large figure. It was a one-sided race to be sure. The Zangoose, swift and light, while the Hydreigon fleeing was barely making any progress down the tall hill to the town of Pokemon below.
Of course under normal circumstances, the Hydreigon would have been flying off too fast to follow, but it's wings were bound together by large rings of stone, and as it turned around to face its pursuer, another pair of stone cuffs were shown choking the "mouths" of its hands.
It was all over very quickly. The Zangoose chief was standing on the Hydreigon's back, her claws pointing into the fugitive's back, not enough to draw blood, but enough to scare him. "Y-you can't send me in there copper, it's inhumane, it's downright cruel! Do you know what they do to Pokemon in there?"
"Well maybe you should have thought about that before you went and kidnapped those children Halen." The chief replied, hauling the large dragon up roughly. Halen stretched out both of his arms and opened them at the chief's face. There was a coughing sound and a small puff of smoke was released from the mouths.
The chief giggled as she pushed him ahead of her. "Nice try Halen, but didn't they tell you about these things?" she tugged on the stone cuffs on Halen's wings. "Ever-stone cuffs. They prevent the use of attacks, Ghost-fading, and in your case flying."
Halen growled as he was escorted back up to the top of the hill while Marret watched nervously. "You hurt?" he asked.
"Nah, he's fine. For now at least." The chief replied.
"I was talking about you."
"Well I would be more worried about Halen than me right now considering where he's going."
Cops and robber alike took a moment to stare up at the building in front of them. The Independent Corrective Facility for Felonious Persons or as it had been called since its opening: The House on the Hill. The most notorious prison in town that harbored any criminal unlucky enough to be sent there. From murderers to thieves, the great gates of the House opened for all. For getting into the House on the Hill was easy, getting out….well.
Over the years the House on the Hill had acquired several less than savory rumors associated with its "treatments". Rumors that had never been confirmed as no one, not even officers of the law, had seen what went on behind the dull gray walls. No one went in, and the only people that came out were in body bags, or the warden for the occasional press conference.
"Seriously. This place doesn't give you the heebie-jeebies?" Marret asked.
"It scares the heck outta me." Halen replied.
The chief straightened herself and tightened the grip on the convict's back cuffs. "Let just get this over with." Without pause she nudged Halen to the giant cast iron doors that towered above them all. Marret stayed a few paces behind until the chief glanced back at him. "I can't keep this guy steady and knock on the door lieutenant." She stated dryly.
"Oh uh-right. Sorry chief." The Wartortle scooted up to the doors and looked as small as a Caterpie next to them. Thankfully there was a single iron knocker on the door and just the right height for him. With apprehensive caution he gripped the large ring that dangled from a carved Entei's mouth and knocked on the door.
KLANG, KLANG, KLANG
The sound seemed to echo all though the stone prison and out into the ever growing night. Marret wringed his hands together, his eyes darting around restlessly, Halen literally trembled with fear, and even the chief who had "been here hundreds of times, doing the exact same thing" felt her pulse quicken as the doors to the House on the Hill creaked open.
Unlike usual doors they did not swing in or out, and despite their size they opened quickly. They parted away from each other, making a black column that opened and engulfed the three. Since the shadows was all there was to see, the first thing they noticed was the heat. It rolled out to meet them like a wave crashing over them and battling against the cold autumn air. For while the night was below comfortably cold, it was mere seconds after the doors creaked open that the heat engulfed them, blanketed them, and already beads of sweat began to accumulate on their bodies, though whether the sweat came from heat or fear they never questioned.
Steam from the internal warmth rose from the shadows and soon covered what little there was to see that night. Yet despite all of this all was unearthly quiet, until the sound of carful footsteps reached their ears. From the cloak of shadow and steam a figure emerged, released from the grasp of the House on the Hill. It was a tall and proud, Heatmor that regarded each of the three for only a moment, wordlessly.
Drawing forth on of its clawed hands it kept behind its back, the Heatmor revealed a small black pocket watch which it clicked open and gazed at through half-closed eyes before shutting it and returning its hand behind its back. "You are late." The Heatmor said to no one in particular.
The chief cleared her throat awkwardly. "Yes, well sorry about that Mr. Tinker, our friend here just decided—"
"Warden Tinker, if you please," The Heatmor said unemotionally as the chief was cut off the second time that night, "and there is no need to explain yourself, but in the future I would like the deliveries to be punctual."
The Warden barley looked at his terrified "delivery" before, without any signal given or sound made, a pair of Durants scuttled out from the darkness and stood tightly at either of Halen's sides. They pinched their backs together, lifted the large dragon easily, and without a word began to carry him off into the doorway of the House.
Needless to say, the Hydreigon was not going peacefully. He squirmed and wriggled in the iron bugs' pinch, when that didn't work he resorted to begging. "No, no, please don't let them do it! Don't let them take me in here! No please-please-NOOOOoooo!" His body disappeared into the shadows and steam, and then his screaming eventually disappeared. Swallowed, it seemed, by the House on the Hill.
Both officers held their breath as they watched this, and the Warden too gave the spectacle the gift a brief glance, before he faced them again. "I think you will find that the dramatics attached to my facility are just that: dramatic." He assured them, though he did not seem to care what they thought either way. "I am sure we will be seeing each other again soon officer."
"Uh, y-yes, well…thank you Warden Tinker." The chief replied though only because she felt the need to break the silence.
"Accepted." The Warden replied and turned back, claws still behind his back. The shadows engulfed him, the steam covered him, and it wasn't until a few moments later that the chief and Marret realized they were once again starring at closed doors.
The cold wind rustled them again; comforting it seemed, after what they had witnessed. They turned and drove back down the hill wordlessly, and it wasn't until they were safe in the familiarity of the town's street that either one of them spoke.
"Well, you were right Marret." The chief said. The Wartortle looked at her and raised an eyebrow though she did not look at him. "Heebie-jeebies."
He, and the night wind, could do nothing but agree.
End Ch. 1
Well that's done. All right readers, here's the deal. This story is going to be special because I need your help to right it. "Well, what does that mean?" It means that this is a PUBLIC OC STORY! Yep, my very first! So if you like this story so far, and you maybe want to add a little something-something of your own, go ahead and go to the next chapter where you will find an OC Application Sheet. Until I start to get a lot in (which I honestly doubt will happen) there will be no time limit or limit to the number I will accept, however, no one will be allowed to send in more than 1 for the moment.
So, what are you waiting for? Let's make-a the magic people!