Died in Vain

So this is an angsty little thing I made. Contains blood and swearing, as well as the aforementioned angst.

Cinders fluttered away from the fire and through the air, hissing against the red and gold carpet for brief moments before putting themselves out. They were unable to survive for long away from their mother. Lysandre found this fascinating.

"They live and they die, little dog, as do all things. I seek to change this. I will make myself and my followers immortal with the power of the great god of life, and our Pokémon will stand loyal beside us, forever our faithful companions," Lysandre said softly as he fondled the rough, black hair on the Houndour's ears and let his hand slide down across the smooth silver plate on the Pokémon's forehead.

The Houndour was Lysandre's pet, no tool to be used for battling. It disgusted Lysandre that animals should ever have to be used as weapons, but it was necessary, as many of his more undesirable techniques were. Once Team Flare were the only humans left on earth, battling would no longer be necessary, and their precious Pokémon would now be honored for helping to save the world from itself.

Lysandre was shaken out of his reverie when his Holo Caster beeped to life, a holographic projection of his right hand, Malva, appearing above the small tablet, wore a grim expression as she delivered the news.

"Sir, two grunts had a fight. It started out as a simple disagreement, but they decided it should be settled on the field of a Pokémon battle. The battle was hard fought, neither backing down. In the end, the victor chose to teach her opponent a lesson by having her Liepard use Night Slash on the loser. The loser was very badly hurt, sir. We have the winner in captivity," Malva reported, her voice occasionally shaking as she saw Lysandre's eyes grow dark.

"Where is the victor being held?" he asked, his voice thick with anger.

"The containment cells, sir, in the detention level. He is in cell 6C."

Lysandre gave a brusque nod and ended the call, striding out of his office with Houndour on his heels. Maybe he had been wrong. Even his own people, Team Flare, were capable of using Pokémon as weapons. It disgusted him.

The grunts walking down the hall all pressed themselves close to the wall as he passed by. Some even attempted to bow or curtsy. Lysandre was proud of them. They had come to him directionless, with no goals or ambitions. Lysandre had painstakingly shaped them, molded them, made them into a solid, cohesive unit. Yes, he was very proud of all of them. All except one, who was awaiting him in cell 6C.

Lysandre strongly disliked the detention level. He got the idea no one ever cleaned, because there was a consistent stink of pee and burnt hair that pervaded the air there. He wasn't about to force anyone to clean either, however. That would require going to each cell and asking the criminal inside to please not kill them while they sprayed the place down.

Lysandre had long known his team was misunderstood by the world. They kept the peace better then those irritating little kids, running about and playing hero. Team Flare had been hunting down the real criminals for years, but who gets the credit? Kids! As though children could possibly fell criminal organizations as strong as Team Rocket once was. Please. By the time the twerps reached it, it was a mere shell, picked clean by Team Flare. All this was necessary to ensure that the other organizations didn't get in the way of Team Flare's perfect world.

Lysandre ran his fingernails across the bars as he strode by, creating a clink-clink-clink sound that he personally enjoyed but was probably maddening to those held prisoner in the cells. Lysandre was fine with that. Half of them were mad in the first place.

When Lysandre reached cell 6C, he was surprised to see that the prisoner was a female. At least in his experience, the males in his organization were more prone to disobeying orders. He ordered a guard to let him into the cell, and told another to bring water and civilian clothing.

The guards knew what was about to happen, and the first opened the cell door, causing the resounding squeal of rusting metal to ring through the dungeon. Lysandre wondered if that was what drove prisoners here mad, such a shrill noise every time a door opened. The second guard ran off to fetch the water and clothes, looking upset that he wouldn't get to see the whole thing. Lysandre let himself and Houndour into the cell and closed the door behind them. This time Houndour barked at the noise.

The grunt jerked her head up, and fear filled her eyes as she recognized her leader. "Please, Mr. Lysandre, I didn't mean to do it, it was heat of the moment-"

Lysandre cut her off curtly. "Hush, child." She fell silent immediately, and Lysandre was able to continue uninterrupted. "Are you aware of Team Flare's goal?" he asked her.

"Yes, sir. To create a beautiful world, where Team Flare reigns supreme," the girl said hesitantly, as though she knew she was walking into a trap.

"And how can we reign supreme if we fight amongst each other, child? Team Flare must be unified, must be strong. You are living proof that we are not yet string enough to face the ultimate challenge."

Tears were running down the girl's cheeks now. Lysandre couldn't see her eyes behind her sunglasses. He held his hand out. "Your sunglasses."

The girl's hands were shaking as she slowly removed then sunglasses. Her eyes were brown, Lysandre saw. It reminded him of the policy that had caused Team Flare to have a uniform. The policy that they were all one, and should look like one. This girl had clearly not gotten that memo.

The guard rushed up, offering a bottle of water and a bundle of clothing through the door. Lysandre took them, and in turn gave them to the girl. "You will wash the dye from your hair and change from your uniform into civilian wear. You are henceforth cast out of Team Flare. Ordinarily I would stay to ensure you did it, but I have somewhere to be, so I'll trust the guards here to keep an eye on you. Farewell."

He turned, ignoring the girl's pleas for another chance, begging him to take pity on her, to not cast her out. He tuned her out, marching out of the cell. Houndour decided to bark one last time at the girl before padding out of the cell after his master.

Lysandre called an assembly that afternoon, standing onstage with his Houndour beside him. He looked at the little dog sadly. "I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning away from the microphone. "This has to be done."

Lysandre mustered his strength, forcing a calm, serious expression onto his face for the benefit of his followers as they filed into the massive room. Fire flashed angrily in braziers on the walls, as though it could sense his true mood. He was furious, at the foolish girl for making him do this, and at himself for doing it.

The grunts were soon assembled, the shadows thrown by the fire sharpening and stretching the features on their faces so they looked almost otherworldly. They looked afraid. It had been a long time since all of the grunts had been called together, and it was always for a very serious announcement. A couple of the newer recruits were visibly shaking.

Lysandre pulled his microphone closer to his mouth. "Hello, Team Flare. I am your leader, Lysandre." He paused as cheering resounded throughout the room, and a smile crept across his face. He fought to suppress it. This was serious news.

"I'm glad to see you all happy, but I have called you here today to discuss a very grim matter. I am sad to say that one of our own used a Pokémon as a weapon against another." Lysandre made sure to place the correct notes of sorrow and disgust and into his voice as the grunts reacted in kind.

Lysandre nodded, approving of the grunts' shouts of anger. "Yes, it's a sad day when we cannot trust our own kind. It is a still sadder day, however, when our prized Pokémon are used as nothing more then weapons. Team Flare was created to bring beauty to this world, and create an eternal paradise for ourselves and our Pokémon. We would, of course, destroy all weapons, to crush all chances of war and rebellion." The grunts were nodding along, looking faintly confused. This had been drilled into their heads a million times. Why were they being reminded now, of all times?

"How can we ever achieve this goal if our own Pokémon can be weapons?" A tear fell from Lysandre's eye as true sadness entered his voice now. "It is to my great sorrow that I must announce... that there will be no Pokémon in Team Flare's perfect world, as they are fuel for war, and war must not be tolerated."

The room was still for a moment before the room exploded, the grunts' faces turning as red as their tomato hair, the flickering flames transforming the furious faces into those of demons. The grunts began to shout, saying this was cruel, unfair to the Pokémon, saying he was a hypocrite, there was a Pokémon right up there on stage with him. Houndour seemed to sense the meaning of their words and backed away a few steps, growling defensively.

Lysandre slammed a hard black boot down on the steel stage. "Silence!" he roared. He backed up and gently ran a hand over Houndour's head, steadying the Pokémon and holding it down.

"You would call me a hypocrite? I would make an example for you of my own Pokémon." Lysandre produced a small knife, the silvered blade catching fire in the orange-red light. The Houndour's eyes, usually so full of trust, filled with fear and betrayal as he caught sight of the weapon. A whimper escaped his throat.

Lysandre's shoulders shook as he fought to restrain sobs. Those eyes would remain with him all his life, haunting both his dreams and his waking memories. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look and shoved the knife upwards.

The sticky, warm blood on his hand worked as though someone had poured a bucket of cold water on his head, and his eyes snapped open, horrified at what he had done. Houndour, his loyal pet, who had been with him through thick and thin, slumped across his murderer's arm as the light left his eyes. Lysandre was immediately filled with both regret and a sense of purpose, as his grunts, now with no doubt about their master's loyalty to his cause, filed silently out of the room.

Lysandre was left alone with Houndour. The dead eyes seemed to stare at him accusingly, as if to say, 'You miserable bastard. I never wavered. I always thought you would be by my side, through thick and thin, like I was for you. You betrayed me. How could you?'

"I had no choice!" Lysandre shouted at the corpse. "No choice! I need to achieve a perfect world, a world of peace! I cannot do that if weapons can still exist! Pokémon are weapons, weapons, weapons!"

'You always said I was more then that to you. You could have saved me. You hold power over this organization. It could have been enough to simply shame the girl and attach severe penalties to attacking your fellow teammates, to frighten off those who would follow in her footsteps.'

"Shut up!" Lysandre yelled, tears running freely down his cheeks. "You're dead! You can't talk! I know you can't!"

The dead dog didn't answer.

Years later, Lysandre was finally ready to unleash his weapon. A child had asked him what would happen to the Pokémon in his world earlier that day. Lysandre had cried right there as Houndour, ever-faithful, was brought once more to the foreground of his mind. The child had been confused. Lysandre had attempted to explain, carefully avoiding all mention of the dog Pokémon. Houndour didn't need his memory tarnished by some snotty child.

Lysandre smiled as he faced off against the kid. Ages of planning and a very painful sacrifice were about to pay off. Houndour would not have died in vain. He could prove it at last.

The child had the power of the legend on his side. Even with his Mega Gyarados, an extremely difficult Pokémon to obtain, he had been soundly beaten. Lysandre collapsed to his knees, not seeing the children whoop and celebrate. They thought they had saved their world. They didn't realize they had damned it.

Lysandre only saw those eyes, fear and betrayal showing clearly. Tears tracked down his cheeks. Houndour had died in vain.

Spoiler

Target- Houndour
CC- 12168
Difficulty- Medium

 

Claiming for grading.

 

First and foremost, sorry for the delay, even if it wasn't all that much of a delay, since it's the end of my vacation my friends got a lot more vocal and active and we kinda went out pretty much every day this week. And due to Hannah's advice of trying to expand and analyze more, it also added some time to the thingamabobs.

Introduction

You start quite poetically, actually. Although the fact that he goes talk to his dog three seconds later doesn't really help the case. Anyhow, this introduction – the first nine or so paragraphs – does one things wonderfully: characterize Lysandre. Which is one of the things it needed to do. Sadly, this isn't quite enough, you seem to rely too much on the idea that the person reading will know who Lysandre is because they've played X or Y but this isn't always true. You remedy that later onto the story though, so all is well.

Even in fanfiction, specially on videogames series like Pokemon where there isn't one correct starting point, you should always characterize and describe characters because not every one will know what they look like or what their goals, abilities and ideals are.

Development

The story has actually a low increase from the introduction to the climax, considering the pacing. But it does the job well. All in all I must say I don't quite agree with the logic behind these actions, considering Lysandre is a cold tactician and more importantly, presumably very smart. He didn't necessarily have to kill Houndour, the mistake of one does not necessarily makes the mistake of the whole.

If such actions had happened before you should have mentioned them. Maybe an offhanded mention or two of “My god, not again” or something of the like.

Also, why do many mad prisoners deserving of psychological healthcare are kept in jail whereas a grunt, capable of ratting the entire movement out in a fit of butthurt and severely damaging the plans if not outrighting destoying it is free to go scottfree?

Climax & Conclusion

This, actually shows a strong emotional part of Lysandre that's rarely worked, so kudos to you. Although the room this entire place takes place is … excedingly barren, it has no chairs so to speak off, and it's only memorable points are the flamind décor on the walls, and that's all on a massive room.

While I'm familiar that a room like is in the game, it kinda of go against the idea of order that Lysandre oh so loves, since people have no real idea of organization, who goes where, and on longer assemblies people would like to not stand but this is more of a nitpicking issue than a more important one.

All in all it was a good climax and the emotional ghosts later on his life show pretty well, because we know his story, you just pretty much told us that it haunted him and left it at that. You could have squeezed in a couple or so more scenes of how it affected him later on.

Grammar & Length

As always perfect, or rather, so good I didn't spot anything. 12168 works out wonderfully for a medium Pokemon.

Overview

Given that the story itself is marvellous and you've put in a good length, this Houndour is yours to own and then promptly trade or gift if you so wish. Go forth, write often and be prosperous my child.