The Dark Days of ‘Ladriel

Story #2 (Let’s Get Sappy! was #1)

Tracey Dies Tonight

Disclaimer: I own all of Pokemon but Tracey and Ash! Muuuuahahahahahahhaaaaaaaa! (I was only kidding, don't sue!)

Rating: At this point in the writing process, I only have a vague idea of what this story will even be about, so I can’t rate it! Outlining the story-line before you start is for loooooosers. *sticks tongue out at English teachers)

Author’s Note: "The Dark Days of ‘Ladriel" marks the period of time where my parents’ computer isn’t hooked up. All I know how to do with computers is click buttons and type, so there’s no way that I can hook it up! My great American novel, the first chapter of which involves James and ramen noodles, is trapped on that computer, and I can’t rescue it until my dad makes the computer alive again! *mopes* So for now, I’m stuck writing useless and random fanfics to pass my time.

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Anie (pronounced like any normal old spelling of "Annie") turned to face the small group of adolescents that sat in cheap folding chairs before the huge overturned dog bowl that served as her podium. Her curly robin’s egg blue hair hung down to her mid-back, and her bright blue eyes gleamed cheerfully. Because it was fun, she was dressed in one of those slutty black leather outfits that the girls in action movies always seem to wear. She was really quite moral, but the general public didn’t have to know that! Her five-inch heels were an unnecessary add-on to her natural height of 5’9", but little details like that don’t bother you when you’re a teenage eccentric. A banner was strung between two poles above her head, reading, "Tracey Haters of America".

"Okay, the meeting’s beginning and stuff. Raise your hand if you hate Tracey!"

The hands of everyone in the entire room shot up immediately…except for that of one boy in the front row. Anie eyed him evilly.

"You just came to this meeting to get a look at me in my tight leather, didn’t ya? Well, too bad! Muffy, take care of him!" she yelled.

A very pleasant looking and petite girl walked up to him, giggled a little, and proceeded to pick him up by the ear and throw him through the wall. She giggled again and returned to her seat by Anie’s podium.

"Okay, now that that’s taken care of, I know that everyone here hates Tracey with a passion! That’s good! Sooooo…" Anie paused dramatically. "We’re going on a trip to Pokeland to recruit new members and actually *do* something about the menace called Tracey!"

Cheers erupted from all the gathered adolescent Pokemon fans. Once the noise died down, however, a boy in the back stood up.

"How on Earth can we get to Pokeland? Sure, we may be all anime and stuff, which is so totally cool and the reason that fanfics are so much fun, but we live in America! Americans don’t even know where Pokeland *is*!"

"Now, now, my dear pessimist, sit down. *Please* don’t underestimate my planning skills! I’ll have you know that my counterpart in Maine just turned 18, and got exactly 137 Powerball tickets for her birthday. She won the $362 million grand prize, *after* taxes, and she didn’t even have to share it with anyone! She’s stinkin’ rich! She hired some scientific genius to study episodes of Pokemon and build a device to transport us all there. It cost her all of $10 million to get it done, but that’s just pocket-change to her, now. She also paid for our airfare to Maine!" Anie held up the fat envelope that contained their plane tickets.

Another annoying pessimist stood up. "But what about our parents? Won’t they die of heart attacks? And is this the Americanized version of Pokeland or the non-meddled-with Japanese version?"

"Sit DOWN, idjit! This scientific genius also sent a ray up into orbit that will zap our parents’ brains the day we go to Pokeland and make them forget that we ever existed! This, too, was a tiny investment to my dear friend the millionaire. And we’re going to the Americanized version of Pokeland. None of us know Japanese! Didn’t you *know* that each separate translation of Pokemon represents a different Pokecountry? Geez, people." Anie smiled brightly at her Tracey-hating minions. "So, on Saturday, which is three days from now, it’s bye-bye California! I love this state, but in Pokeland they call rice balls donuts! Won’t that be *fun*?"

A great cheer erupted from the throats of the soon-to-be antagonists of Tracey, and Anie began to happily pass out the plane tickets.

* * *

"But Jessie, why can’t I have a donut?" whined James.

"Because, we have to steal Pikachu, numbskull!" yelled Jessie, winding up to hit James with a frying pan.

"Now, now, you two—" Meowth was cut off as he and the rest of Team Rocket were thrown backward by some sort of explosion accompanied by a flash of blinding white light.

Somehow Jessie and James had landed in a fear-hug, despite the fact that they had been shot off in almost opposite directions. They stared in shock at what had quite forcefully appeared in their midst. It looked like nothing more than a large metal box. At least, that’s what it looked like until a panel slid aside like an opening door. Jessie and James hugged even tighter, if that was possible.

"Alieeeeeeeeeens!" they cried in unison, beginning to cry their eyes out.

Meowth got up from where he had landed to fury swipe the two. "Aliens don’t exist!" he said. He certainly didn’t sound very sure of himself.

"Wow! We’re here!" said a voice. A girl of about fifteen with curly blue hair leapt out of the hole that the sliding panel had left. She was wearing a short denim skirt and a tank top that displayed what looked like a red headband and sketch pad in the center of a circle with a slash through it.

Jessie and James hugged even *tighter*. Meowth was surprised that he didn’t hear any ribs cracking.

The blue-haired girl gave a little start, catching sight of them for the first time. Her eyes got all Bambi-like, and she clasped her hands under her chin in delight. "Awwwww! Kris, you have to see this!"

Another girl wearing the same outfit as the first jumped out of the hole in the box. She looked to be a few years older, and had strait brick-red hair pulled back into a ponytail. As soon as she saw Team Rocket, her eyes got googly as well and she let out a squeal.

"What? What’s out there?" came a male voice from inside the box. A boy that was probably in his early teens hopped out, wearing shorts and a T-shirt bearing the same insignia that the girls wore. As his eyes fell on Jessie, James, and Meowth, he recoiled. "Kris, Anie, why’d you land us *here*? You know I hate those guys!"

"Excuse me?" Jessie and James said in unison, finally breaking out of their hug.

"You hate *what* guys?" said Meowth, glaring menacingly.

"Twerp lover," Kris and Anie shot at the boy, who will remain nameless from now on.

"Go make yourself useful and tell the others to come out," Anie sneered.

"Fine, you blind idiots," said the boy. "Hey everyone! Come out!" he called.

"*We* could have done that," Kris muttered to Anie. "I really hate that kid."

Soon, ten more people had filed out of the box, all wearing the feminine or masculine version of the uniform. Of the thirteen people now gathered outside of the ship, five were boys and nine were girls.

"I find it interesting that all of the boys in our group come from *your* Californian division, Anie," mused Kris.

"Yeah, well," said Anie with a snicker, "you should see what I wear to the meetings."

Kris darted Anie an alarmed glance, but left it at that. Anie began to cackle maniacally.

The nameless boy and two girls stood a little apart from the rest, muttering among themselves.

Kris and Anie darted venomous glances at the three, and started whispering to each other. After a moment it seemed to the stunned audience (Team Rocket) that a conclusion had been reached, and Kris raised her voice to address the group.

"All right, T.H. of A.! I’m thinking we’ll have to divide into two groups, or there’ll be big fights with lots of blood! We want the only spilled blood to be Tracey’s! So, Anie’s gonna sort you into your groups. The Twerp Troupe will go on my left, the Cool People that Rock-et…yes, I know it’s corny…will go on my right. Got it?" There were nods and murmured affirmatives from all of the gathered Tracey Haters.

"All righty then!" said Anie, much too peppily. "Nameless kid, you’ll be the leader of the Twerp Troupe, I’m sorry to say…"

The annoying boy nodded and went to stand on Kris’s left.

"My other left, nimrod," Kris hissed. The boy blushed and hurriedly switched sides.

"Zach, you go in the Cool People that Rock-et!"

A quite handsome boy about the same age as Anie winked at her and positioned himself on Kris’s right. Anie blushed and giggled.

"Caitlin, you’re a Cool Person that Rock-ets too!"

Caitlin was very short, with brilliant fuchsia hair.

"Marge…go stand with the losers, will ya? That’s right, you’re in the Twerp Troupe…"

Marge, a grossly fat teen with sickly green hair, waddled over to stand by the nameless boy, sticking her tongue out at Anie.

"Bob, you’re a Rock-et!"

Bob waved merrily, a twinkle in his insanely green eyes as he skipped over to stand with Zach and Caitlin.

"Methuselah, you’re a Rock-et, too!"

Methuselah skittered over to the other Rock-ets. He resembled a mosquito.

"Penelope! Rock-et!"

Penelope wore a hat that was pulled down so that its brim completely obscured her face. It was impossible to tell what she looked like.

"Urgh…Delaney, you’re a twerp."

Delaney walked over to be with the Twerps, hips swinging more than it seemed possible to swing. She wore perhaps five pounds of makeup on her face, and her clothing all appeared to be about three sizes too small. All the girls cast hateful looks at her as she walked by, and pounded the boys on their heads when they began to stare.

"Larry, you’re a Rock-et!"

Larry was an exceedingly tall boy. He looked to be twice as tall as Caitlin, who he positioned himself next to.

"Psychotic Twins, you’re both Rock-ets!"

Two absolutely identical girls giggled and rushed over to stand with their group. One of them was the Muffy who acted as a bouncer for the T.H. of A.

"All right!" said Kris cheerily. "Looks like we’ve separated the wheat from the chaff, here, though I’m proud of you *all* for hating Tracey!"

"Brock was hot!" exclaimed Delaney.

"Er…right," Kris said nervously. "Anyway, you can go away now, Twerp Troupe. Shoo. Go away. We have no more use for you, and I never want to see any of you again! Go create a rebel branch of the T.H. of A., for all I care."

"Bye bye!" Anie said brightly.

Grumbling, the Twerp Troupe shuffled off, eventually disappearing into the woods.

Anie and Kris turned happily to once again acknowledge Team Rocket, each member of which was still staring dumbfounded at the Haters.

"Okay! Time to recruit!" cried Kris.

"Would you three like to join the Tracy Haters of America?" inquired Anie.

"This…isn’t America," said Jessie.

"Do I *look* like I care?" scoffed Anie. "Do you hate Tracey or not?"

"Can’t stand the twerp!" all three members of Team Rocket said simultaneously.

"Great!" said Kris, clapping her hands in joy. "I guess this means we have three new members!" She eyed the Rockets’ uniforms critically. "You don’t need to wear one of the T.H. of A. uniforms if you don’t want to. The Twerps took all of our spares anyway," she said bitterly.

"All right! That’s enough recruits for now. I don’t wanna search around for people anymore! Let’s start the meeting!" said Anie. "Did you bring your podium, Kris?"

"Yes, I did!"

"Great, ‘cause mine’s an overturned dog bowl! Yours can fit both of us!"

Kris whipped out her podium and placed it on the ground. "All right, everyone! Gather in front of us! You too, Team Rocket…"

The Haters eagerly assembled, the boys other than James taking up the front row. They stared avidly at Anie, but when she made no move to change clothes, they began to get agitated. A twinkle in his eye, Bob began a chant.

"Spank-me suit! Spank-me suit! Spank-me suit! Spank-me suit!"

Kris turned to look at Anie, bewildered. "What’s a spank-me suit?"

"Oh, that’s what I usually conduct meetings in!" said Anie, with no hint of embarrassment. "I’d better go change! Don’t start without me, I’ll only be a sec. Unfortunately, I’m not such a clothes-changing artist as our new recruits, so I must go find a tree to change behind!"

There were a few dismayed "Oh’s" at Anie’s last comment, but they were soon replaced by tumultuous cheering that could easily have come from fifty boys, instead of four.

"James! You’ll wanna get a good seat for this! Come up here!" said Larry, twisting where he sat to look at James.

James looked uncertainly at Jessie for permission, who impatiently waved him forward. Meowth tittered something that sounded remarkably as if it contained the word "whipped". Jessie squashed him.

In a couple of minutes Anie came out of the woods again, wearing her tight leather action-movie-girl outfit with five-inch heels. Kris stared at her, shocked.

"Why, Anie, you’re no better than Delaney!"

"No, Kris," said Anie patiently. "Delaney *is* a slut. I only *look* like one! Besides, it ensures that the boys are paying attention," she said with a wink at Zach.

As soon as Anie got up on the podium, Jessie immediately regretted letting James go sit in the front row, but did nothing but let out a little sigh. She couldn’t go ballistic and drag James back to his former seat *now*, or people would get the wrong idea!…or perhaps it was the *right* idea. Either way, *Meowth* seemed to take the sigh for what it really meant, and began to titter again. Jessie picked him up by his tail and sent him skidding into the bushes on one side of her.

"Attention, everyone! Jessie, save your Meowth bashing for *after* the meeting, will you?" said Kris. "And boys, quit your drooling!"

"But this is the only time we get to see Anie look like a prostitute!" protested Larry. Zach shot him a somewhat annoyed look, and Penelope threw her shoe at the back of his head.

"ANYWAY," Anie said forcefully, "we’re beginning the meeting now! Okay! So, today, we’re discussing how we’re going to *kill* that freak Tracey! Kris and I have worked on this plan, and we think it’s *brilliant*! So, first we have to find one of those cardboard cut-outs of Professor Oak…believe me, I’ve seen them! Then *I* stand beside it in my spank-me suit…" This produced some cheers from the boys. "…and scream ‘GET YOUR PICTURE TAKEN WITH PROFESSOR OAK’ into a megaphone. Penelope, our talented sniper, will then take Tracey out as soon as he shows up! I’ll scream, of course, and run around in circles crying my eyes out, and the police won’t guess a thing. Penelope’ll be wearing some sort of brilliant disguise, of course, so she’ll be unidentifiable by the anyone who might see her! And don’t worry," she said, holding up a device, "I have my patented Tracey tracking system right here so we can find him. It’s another invention of the talented scientific genius that Kris hired."

A great cheer broke out among the T.H. of A., and then the girls dragged they boys to the mall and everyone went shopping!

* * *

The Twerp Troupe had been very successful with their recruiting. They had found their way to Pallet Town, where Ash-tachi (the Brock version, not the Tracey version) was currently visiting. The Haters had managed to get everyone currently in the town to join their ranks, which now numbered about 350 (hey, Pallet’s a small town!).

"So! Why do *you* hate Tracey, Professor Oak?" asked the nameless boy. He and the rest of the Troupe were sitting in Ash’s living room, along with Ash-tachi, Mr. Mime, Mrs. Ketchum, Professor Oak, and Gary. Marge had suggested that they trade Tracey-hate-stories, and Professor Oak was the first to reveal his reasons for hating the monster.

"He’s annoying!" said the Professor, absently noting that Brock was absolutely glued to Delaney’s side. "I think he wanted some sort of a gay relationship with me…and I can’t stand his constant sketching! ‘I want to capture the way Professor Oak is contemplating strangling me.’ ‘I want to capture the way this bug crawls along the windowsill.’ ‘I want to capture how this patch of dirt looks before dawn right after a lightning storm.’ Sheesh!"

"Mrs. Ketchum?" said the nameless boy.

"He was hitting on my Oaky-woaky!" she cried, clinging to Professor Oak’s arm.

"Er…right. How about you, Brock?…Brock?…Hellooo, Brock!" The nameless boy whacked him on the head, finally getting his attention away from Delaney.

"Oh! He replaced me, and a poor replacement at that, the dirty little…" Brock launched into a muttered stream of profanity that no human should have to hear in their lifetime.

"Thank you, Brock. That’s enough now. Please stop. Delaney? Why do you hate Tracey?"

"I don’t like his headband," she said simply.

"Um…great reason! Ash, your turn."

"He competes with me for being the twerpiest twerp! *I’m* the resident uber-twerp around here, and I don’t need competition!"

"Ash! You’re not a twerp!" exclaimed the nameless boy. "You’re my hero, Ash! You *can’t* be a twerp!" He collapsed into a heap of helpless sobs at Ash’s feet.

"What’s *he* yammering about?" wondered Ash, looking at Misty, who was sitting next to him. Misty shrugged.

"Well, since our fearless leader is unable to move on, and this is boring anyway, let’s go watch TV!" suggested Gary.

"Great!" the rest of the Haters cried, getting up to go into the family room. The nameless kid was left quivering on the floor, still sobbing his heart out.

Marge was the first to the remote, and she switched on the TV. The news was playing, which didn’t really interest her, and she was about to change the channel when what they were saying really registered.

"Tracey Sketchit died today in Viridian Forest—" Marge switched off the TV and buried her head in her enormous hands.

"Tracey’s dead!" she said. "The Rocket-loving group must’ve killed him. We’re failures!"

"There, there, Marge!" said Delaney. "It might have been one of our people! We *have* about 350 members in our division, you know."

"Yes, but they’re all in Pallet Town! This happened in Viridian Forest! I don’t feel like watching TV anymore." She got up with a bit of effort and waddled out of the room, leaving the other Haters speechless.

* * *

Kris sipped her coffee and sat down with the morning paper that the hotel had supplied. Being rich, she had paid for the rooms of all the Tracey Haters of the Rock-et division. It had only been six rooms, as each room had two beds (Meowth had shared a room with Jessie and James, as he didn’t need his own bed). The cost of six rooms had been pocket change to her! And it was *much* better than sleeping on the ground. They were now all gathered in the hotel lobby, enjoying the complementary continental breakfast.

Immediately upon unfolding the paper, a headline leapt out at Kris. She almost spit out her coffee, she was so shocked.

"Hey, guys, look at this! Tracey’s dead!" she cried.

"What? No way." Anie came up to read over her shoulder, and cried out in amazement. "Wow! It says here that he tripped over a root and broke his neck somewhere out in Viridian Forest!"

"The Twerp Troupe couldn’t have done it. They’re *twerps*, they’re not intelligent enough to make it look like he just tripped and died!" cried Methuselah joyously.

"Then our work here is done! Of course, there’s no reason for us to go back to the U.S. It’s too much fun here!" exclaimed Anie.

"Let’s go to a movie!" shouted Caitlin.

"A scary one!" said the twins, Muffy and Buffy.

"With Jessie and James and Zach and Anie sitting next to each other," cackled Bob. "Then they can jump into each others’ arms in the scary parts!"

Anie and Zach began giggling insanely, and Jessie and James…sweatdropped. (What wimps! And I mean that in a good way.)

Moral of the story: Rocket people are cooler than twerps, because they just are! And if you’re bored and don’t wanna write a really long fanfic, just have Tracey fall over and die and wrap it up quickly! So much fun!

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I like feedback, good or bad. Here’s my cryptic e-mail address! hawkley_iv_prez@hotmail.com