Make Love, Not [WaR]

It was 22 hours in before the boredom had well and truly kicked in. My arms and shoulders were throbbing, my back was as stiff as a board. My legs had been numb for God knows how long. But, the worst part? Dear Lord, the boredom was excruciating. Twelve men, draped head-to-toe in the most over-the-top garments; we were told to anticipate the worst! Unfortunately for us, the sergeant took that literally. Combat. Seriously, we were dressed for combat! Big-ass boots, bulletproof vests, visors and, believe-it-or-not a camouflage body suit. Those muddy browns and murky greens would fit perfectly if we had been dispatched at the Great Marsh, tranquilizing feral Croagunk or something less outlandish, but noooo! Here we were, in the brightest, most innocent little village you've ever seen. Floaroma town? Pfft, yeah... soooo threatening. Big bad, terrifying rainbow flowers everywhere.

Was I being too snarky and sarcastic? Yes. Did I care at this point? No - it was the only thing keeping me sane. I tried counting the fallen petals all around the team, but that was equally as mind-numbing. The other men looked just as I must have looked. Resting on one knee on a bed of innocent, trampled flowers of some kind; bodies were hunched, eyes were all glazed over, yet all were facing the same direction: that stupid windmill. Okay, so maybe it was my frustration causing me to lash out at the windmill with its damn spinning panels. I mean it wasn't the windmill's fault that the those customers were stupid enough to get ensnared by team Plasma and held as hostages, right?

The one thing that did keep me a little on edge, though, was how eerily silent this place was, other than the soft whoosh of the windmill's spinning sails. There weren't any muffled cries for help, or gunshots or anything exciting that'd disrupt the near-silence. Even the wildlife knew that shit was about to go down here -- or should I say, most of the wildlife were aware. There was, however, one exception; weighing in at barely-more-than a marshmallow, this little Cutiefly obviously hadn't gotten the memo. There it was, twenty-odd hours into what could be the bloodiest showdown this cutesy little town will ever witness, fluttering about serenely from flower to flower. I had to hand it to the little pollinator though, it was gutsy for what looked like a feathered sock-puppet with unnecessarily-large wings. It as almost mesmerizing watching the little creature flit back-and-forth from flower-to-flower, gracefully skimming its dangly black feet across the flora until it were speckled with pollen. The harmless little dote probably didn't even realise that it was a vital component of this ecosystem in its hunt for honey. Adorable.

Then, like how these hostage-takeover scenarios always transpire, things escalated; a lone window opened and a brown paper package dropped down, hitting the grass with a soft thud.

"Hold your ground. Wilson, advance," a voice barked from behind.

One of my teammates advanced, stealthily, He approached the package carefully, walking around its perimeter before a tentative hand reached out. We were all holding our breath as Wilson lifted the flaps of the cardboard box. Inside this seemingly-harmless box was the head of one of the hostages.

Wilson screamed. I screamed. Smoke-filled canisters were hurled and gunshots echoed through the previously-peaceful pasture. I didn't know what was happening and dove down as men charged the windmill. Rocks were being hurled from above and bullets were being fired in every conceivable direction. More screaming. You'd think my training would have kicked in, and I'd be right up there at the front-line... trying to save those people. But, no. Fear kicked my ass. I just lay there, cowering in a foetal position. My senses were being overstimulated so instinctively I shut my eyes and pressed my hands against my ears for what felt like an eternity.

When I finally plucked up enough courage - can I even use that word to describe my actions on that day? Perhaps it is better to refer to this as my least-cowardly moment: when I opened my eyes for a second. Between the dense white clouds spewing out of those canisters, one little silhouette emerged. I couldn't believe it! It was that damn Cutiefly from earlier. It was just nonchalantly drifting along, wherever the gentle breeze was taking it. It just hovered there lazily, big round eyes apparently-impervious to the horrors going on around it. I lay there, watching in utter astonishment as the Bug-type Pokemon waltzed around the bullets without a care in the world. Weirdly enough, watching this Cutiefly -- something that is so easily underestimated, survive in this hostile environment, provided me with a source of strength.

So, with eyes locked on that lone sign of life, I began to rise. In that moment, I didn't care that my legs felt like jelly, or that I could hear my heart thumping in my throat -- or even the fact that I had pissed myself in pure terror; none of that mattered. I stood there, for a moment, and tried to gather my bearings. Then, I just thought to myself fuck it.

So I charged towards the Floaroma town windmill. There were bodies and blood and bits of debris everywhere, but I somehow wasn't discouraged by it. With one final glance back at the weirdly-inspirational Cutiefly, I pressed on, passed the broken wooden door, and into the building.

Inside, the smoke had largely dissipated. All that stood before me was a winding staircase, so I began to ascend. At the top, there was just a single door, left slightly ajar. I peered through the crack. There were some team Plasma goons, and some civilians who looked to be the hostages which we had been told about. So, there I was, terrified, in urine-soaked trousers, with a bunch of bad guys waiting to beat me up. Yet, for some rather-foolish reason I decided to charge in.

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

I knocked one of them to the ground. Then there was a flurry of limbs and I was on the ground. Some people were shouting, but it was all incoherent to me. Maybe I was delirious, who knows? All I know is that I ended up on the ground, getting kicked from every which-way. I could feel myself losing my grip on consciousness... Everything was fading black... the faces around me began to blur... when, out-of-nowhere, a familiar insect, coated in white powder and broken pieces of drywall floated by my head.

The last thing I remember was the sudden demented look that had taken over that once-sweet little Cutiefly's eyes. I wasn't sure if it was because these goons had ruined this once untouched biome and the Pokemon wanted revenge, but whatever the reason, Cutiefly was coming for the kill.

When I came-to, I was surrounded by people. Parents were thanking me, microphones attached to avid reporters were shoved in my face. People were ushered away. I needed some space, they said. I was a hero, they said. God, people were going to love me, they said. As far as they knew, I was a damn hero... even if there may have been some casualties, and you know, I never really did anything bar enable that Cutiefly. But boy was I going to milk this. Imagine... Me! A hero?!

Sorry, Cutiefly.

--

WaR Entry.

Prompt: Action // Within the Pokemon World (Sinnoh) // Human Main

Target Capture:

Rank: Simple; 5,000-10,000 CC

CC: 7,235

 

picking off the smol ones tbh

 

PLOT STUFF

You work always has a kind of intrinsic humor to it and never takes itself too seriously, a combination that I appreciate a lot and that shines really well in short, light-hearted bits like this. Between the WaR prompt and the first few paragraphs, I thought you were going to take this in a gritty-noir direction, and I’m glad that you didn’t.

And overall this makes for a really entertaining narrative: there’s a logical escalation, and then the day gets saved by a scarf-wearing bee. The narrator passes out during what would normally be the key focus. There’s even the extended narrative where the narrator gets to claim all the glory for what happened. I love how you orchestrated this into an unconventional plot, but one thing I would recommend based off of scant knowledge of comedic writing: usually, when you’re doing satire/funny work, there’s a more gradual escalation of details. There might be a few things early on that raise a few eyebrows, but the plot seems normal enough; in the middle, there’s some more details that, combined with the earlier stuff, makes you question things a little, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary; and then at some point you’re watching a whale and a bowl of petunias falling out of a spaceship and you have no idea how you got there, and somehow the slow burn makes things even better.

Here, there’s a much more distinct divide between the normal and the abnormal, and the narrator even calls out how weird this is, which on some level cheapens the effect.


PRETTY STUFF

There were some really strong descriptions in the beginning. My personal favorites were:

This is a cool bit because it gives us insight on both the Cutiefly (that it’s adorable) and also on the narrator (that he says things pretty bluntly).

And I like this one too, for mostly the same reason—it gives the narrator the sense of being young, naïve, and easily amazed by these sorts of things, which helps set up the “climax” later on where they basically just piss themselves and lie down.


STYLE STUFF

This isn’t purely grammar, since you’re using the punctuation fine mechanically, but sometimes your sentences are a bit over-punctuated:

For example, this bit feels pretty choppy, and I’m not sure if it needs to: what could be a somber, smooth, subdued bit of description here instead feels really disjointed and out of place in the rest of the paragraph. Having both the semicolon and the colon basically gives you three different focal points—the dead flowers/victims in general, the soldiers, and the destination—but there’s no flow here and it feels like we’re just getting three wildly different and important details here that we need to absorb somehow.

Random other notes: you have some great word choice here. Your verbs are nice and colorful, which works for an action-driven piece, and there’s generally a good flow between paragraphs, even if some of the sentences feel a bit overdone. The paragraph flow leads to a nice pacing that really supports the plot/lack thereof of this story, so good stuff here!


OUTCOME STUFF

I’d actually love to see longer stuff from you. You break a lot of conventions and these stories are perfectly-paced, but I think you could really shine in a longer format. As it stands, this is a nice, short bit of entertaining action. Cutiefly captured!

Oh, if you could post warnings for language up front for younger readers, would appreciate.


WAR PROMPT STUFF

ACTION – ironically, you skip over all the action-y bits and I spent a huge amount of your grade telling you how good of a call that was. That being said, the buildup was there, there was a fight scene, and the setting at least would feel at home in an action story, so you’re good here.

SINNOH – yes.

HUMAN MAIN – I’m pretty sure


In addition to Cutiefly, you may claim a Simple Pokemon of your choosing! Great work.