[Male Reader x Pokémon]
The world of Pokémon. A world filled with monsters capable of mass destruction and violence. Somehow Humanity created a way to contain such ferocious creatures, domesticating them and making them household pets. People and Po...
The stench of blood and decay permeated the dim, cramped apartment. The shadows stretched unnaturally across the room, cast by flickering police flashlights that barely illuminated the grisly scene. The snap of breaking bone cut through the eerie silence like a gunshot, punctuated by a pained, guttural scream.
"Scum." A low, venomous voice growled.
Blood painted the walls in grotesque patterns, drawn into sigils and symbols that twisted and curved unnaturally, as if mocking comprehension. Crumpled bodies lay scattered like broken dolls, some still, others writhing in muted agony. The black-cloaked cultists bore white hoods that were now soaked red. Their sacrilegious devotion to their dark deity was evident in the rusted, blood-stained blades strewn about the room. Whether their victims were people or Pokémon, it hardly mattered. Innocence had been butchered indiscriminately here.
Through the chaos strode a towering figure, his presence commanding, his fury palpable. Silas, a member of Sinnoh's Elite Four, radiated an aura of raw power. His long purple hair flowed as he moved. In one hand, he held a squirming cultist by the collar. With little more than a flick of his wrist, he shattered the man's arm, a sickening crunch punctuating the act.
"You're all scum." Silas spat, his voice cold and detached, though his eyes burned with restrained rage.
Beside him stalked an imposing Lucario, its dark fur gleaming like polished obsidian. The Pokémon's piercing red gaze scanned the room, taking in every detail with a warrior's precision. It moved with fluid grace, dispatching cultists with calculated strikes. Its fists glowed faintly with residual aura energy as it delivered a flurry of devastating blows.
Another cloaked figure crumpled to the ground with a hollow thud.
In the background, heavily armed police officers in riot gear swept through the building. Their Luxray, bristling with electricity, sniffed out hidden rooms and guarded the exits. Jubilife's law enforcement had cordoned off the area, keeping curious civilians at bay while they methodically searched for any remaining cultists.
The raid had been sparked by a neighbour's report, a strange smell, chants in the dead of night, and an unusually large congregation of people. No one could have imagined the horrors uncovered behind the apartment's unassuming façade.
The officers worked grimly, securing evidence and whispering updates into their radios.
One officer approached Silas, his voice low but urgent. "Sir, we've found another family in one of the back rooms. Two parents and a child, tourists from Sunyshore. Same as the others, dead, bound, and used for some kind of ritual. That makes five families now." His face was pale, his hands trembling as he spoke.
Silas clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the unconscious cultist he held. He exhaled sharply and dropped the man's limp body. "These bastards don't deserve mercy..." He muttered, his tone like a knife's edge.
Nearby, a man in a trench coat stepped into the room.
Detective Looker of the International Police carried the weight of the investigation on his shoulders. His sharp eyes, underscored by dark circles from sleepless nights, missed nothing. His Croagunk shuffled beside him, its cheek sacs inflating and deflating as it croaked softly. Looker surveyed the carnage with grim resolve, adjusting his coat as he spoke.
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