Pokemon : An Unexpected Journey
Chapter no.366 The Horror Beneath the Landfill

A symphony of sirens pierced the quiet night as the police convoy arrived at the scene of the catastrophe. The landfill, once a monument to human waste and neglect, was now a warzone. The stench of decayed refuse was still present, but it was overpowered by a new, more chilling aroma - the metallic tang of fresh blood. The landfill's walls, once towering and insurmountable, were nothing more than a pile of crumbled debris. In place of the usual garbage heaps lay a battlefield of the injured and unconscious. Pokémon of every shape, size, and species lay sprawled haphazardly, their bodies evidence of a brutal conflict.

Looker adorned in his immaculate white suit, stepped forth, his gaze taking in the gruesome tableau. His heart sank as he took in the sight of the scores of injured Pokémon. The once lively Crobats, Umbreons, Murkrows, Onix, Gyrados, and others were reduced to groaning, writhing forms of pain. The ground itself seemed to shudder in sympathy with their suffering, their moans and groans a horrifying chorus to the sinister lullaby of the night.

As he ventured further into the wreckage, Looker's experienced eyes spotted a man feigning unconsciousness. The man was a guard, his uniform tattered and bloodied. With a swift motion, Looker yanked the man to consciousness, his piercing gaze meeting the guard's terror-filled eyes.

"Stop playing possum," Looker growled, the threat in his voice palpable. "What happened here?"

Under the watchful gaze of Looker's firearm, the guard stuttered out a confession. "A monster, a beast of unparalleled might. We were nothing but leaves in the face of such a hurricane."

Looker's demanding question of the landfill's true purpose met with silence. A silence so profound, it felt as if the very air was holding its breath. The guard's eyes darted around nervously, but he remained mute. A final jab of Looker's firearm knocked him out, his secrets remaining untold.

Without warning, the officers discovered a gaping sinkhole, a monstrous cavity in the earth. Their Pokémon, armed with illuminating moves, revealed a shocking sight. The sinkhole was an entrance, leading to an enormous, clandestine base.

Descending into the depths of this secret facility, the team moved in synchronized caution, their steps reverberating in the eerily quiet tunnels. The stench of decay and death seemed to grow stronger, suffocating their senses. The injured Pokémon, littered on the floor like discarded dolls, served as a grim reminder of the horrific battle that had taken place.

The sight was no less than a nightmare, an echo of a war that dwarfed the conflicts of their day-to-day lives. Upon reaching a crossroads, Looker decided to divide the group, sending them off in different directions to explore the labyrinthine base. As they ventured deeper, they discovered massive holes in the walls, revealing a hidden section of the base.

In this concealed area, members of Team Rocket lay wounded and bleeding, their Pokémon similarly battered. Their injuries were severe, but not fatal - a sign of a sadistic attacker, aiming to cause maximum suffering with minimal death.

The officers, bound by their duty, began to assist the wounded, securing the Pokémon and providing first aid to the humans. Their faces were a mix of confusion and concern - the events were far from the norm, even for experienced officers like them.

The chilling echo of dripping water and the rustle of unseen entities haunted the tunnels as Looker and his team ventured deeper. The darkness grew denser, akin to a living entity intent on swallowing them whole, its oppressive presence wrapping around them like a suffocating shroud. The rancid aroma of death clung to the damp air, seeping into their very beings, a grim testament to the horrors that lay ahead.

In this abyssal labyrinth, a figure emerged from the darkness - a Lucario. Its aura flared, pulsating with such intensity that the entire group froze in place, like deer caught in headlights. Its eyes bore into them, a penetrating gaze that seemed to pierce their souls. Then, an Abra teleported onto Lucario's shoulder, its eyes twinkling with a mischievous light.

"Well, isn't this a pleasant sight," Abra quipped, its voice dripping with sarcasm. "A carnival of despair, where clowns are replaced with death, and cotton candy with fear."

With a swift motion, Lucario and Abra vanished, leaving the officers in stunned silence. Their relief was fleeting, though, as they soon found themselves facing a sight that would haunt their nightmares for years to come.

A vast array of prison cells stretched as far as the eye could see, each one crammed with people and Pokémon alike. The cells were little more than cages, rusted bars, and rotting wood creating a squalid prison for the unfortunate captives. Every cell was equipped with a blood-soaked table, the visceral remnants of a horrifying operation.

Lying discarded on the cold, stone floor were members of Team Rocket, their lifeless bodies bearing the signature of a beastly assault. Their chests were punched through, the gaping wounds a silent testament to the raw power of their assailant. The sight of the corpses, once formidable foes, reduced to mere husks was enough to send a chill down even the bravest of spines.

Looker, his hands trembling, managed to dial for backup on his phone. The others were frozen, their minds struggling to comprehend the abhorrent reality. The buzzing of flies around the corpses, the groans of the injured, the muffled cries from the cells - it all created a symphony of dread, a tune that echoed through the dank corridors of the secret base.

The anticipation of the horrors that lay ahead, the slowly building dread, was more suffocating than the darkness that surrounded them. The echoes of their footfalls seemed to grow louder, each step a beat in the heart-stopping rhythm of their descent into the heart of despair. The labyrinth unfolded before them, a world painted in the colors of fear and horror, where every shadow seemed to hide a new nightmare.

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[ Omake Paragraph ]

Travelers are often warned against going off alone on nights or staying in black rooms, lest the eerie glow of an Umbreon's eight rings be the last thing they ever see, despite the fact that Umbreon is not adept assassins. Although they can sneak around extraordinarily well, they lack a Scyther's claws or even a Weedle's sting; it will typically take several blows for an Umbreon to fell its opponent unless the target is a human whose pokeballs are dislodged with a single swipe of the paw.

Umbreon may attack without killing in a single strike, like most Pokemon which haunt our nightmares, but they do not need to. Invisible except for their rings in darkness, Umbreon are sturdy Pokemon that heal themselves and become even harder to see by stealing the light of the moon. They strike from every angle, their flickering rings the only giveaway to their presence, for they are as silent as they are dark. Trainers have famously described fighting them as like catching Beldum, for the task is equally difficult and requires perfect precision.

And most importantly, Umbreon understands the value of a tactical retreat and of picking one's battles, and although this has been made them ignored by many a trainer or killer, it has allowed them a far greater chance of survival. When faced with a real possibility of defeat, they slink back into the shadows and wait for an easier food source to come by, be it Kirlia, Kadabra, or Man.