Chapter Text
Honestly, Bucky shouldn’t be surprised.
He told Steve ahead of time he was gonna be late, trusting his dumbass of a friend wouldn’t somehow find trouble before the movie had even probably started…
…He didn’t even need to finish hearing his friend's snide remark about doing this all day before realizing he was in trouble.
He rounded the corner and saw it clear as day, his best friend getting his ass kicked by someone towering over him. He barely gave it any more thought, rushing toward and throwing the guy away from Steve.
The guy tried to take a swing back, but a right hook and a kick in the ass sent the bully away easily. He figured that would be that, and turned to help Steve…guess the asshole had more pride than he thought.
“Machoke, Karate Chop!” Honestly, if he hadn’t just been blatantly assaulted, he would’ve been impressed at his dodge…but at the moment, he was just pissed.
After his roll away from the Machoke, he grabbed his pokéball from his pocket and sent out his own Pokémon.
“Let’s go, Ace!”
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They say the flapping of the wings of a butterfly can be felt on the other side of the world, where one small change could have consequences unseen at the moment.
In this universe, that saying uses a Butterfree instead. In this world, the universe had a bit more of a connection to magic, causing the existence of these Pocket Monsters to happen.
In such minute ways, this world is already different to the one you are familiar with…but you haven’t seen the full picture yet.
And what better place to begin, than with the hero who started it all…Steve Rogers.
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Bucky watched as the Machoke and his trainer ran away, sporting injuries from their respective battles and felt a little pride. He gave a pat to his Whirlipede and returned him to his pokeball, turning toward Steve being helped by his own Pokémon.
“Sometimes, I think you just like getting punched.”
“I had him on the ropes.”
“Lu-carr.”
“Not helping, Lucky.” Bucky chuckled a bit at Lucky, Steve’s Lucario, supporting him as he noticed Steve had dropped something and went to pick it up, realizing just what it was. “How many times does this make it?”
He opened the letter before Steve could retort, seeing the rejection letter and info Steve filled out, specifically where he was from.
“Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form.” Steve at least had the sense to look guilty leaning on Lucario despite not even mentioning how many times he's done this.
“Honestly Lucky, you’re no better, letting him do this.” Unlike his trainer, however, Lucario didn’t even look phased as he let Steve recover a bit from his blows until he could stand on his own. He wasn’t even surprised that when Steve was finally stable, he asked about his own orders instead of worrying about himself…
“The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.” Bucky didn’t need to be a psychic pokémon to see how sad Steve was…which reminded him of why he was somewhat late to meet him in the first place.
“Come on you two,” He wrapped his around the both of them, inwardly chuckling at the fact that despite Lucario being barely above 4 and a half feet, Steve wasn’t even a foot taller than him, ending up around 5’4 while he towered over them at a flat 6’, “It’s my last night! I gotta get you guys cleaned up.”
As the three of them walked out, Lucario repositioned himself to have Steve in between the two of them as Bucky handed him a newspaper to show him where they’re going.
The Future, the World Exposition of Tomorrow…the Stark Expo.
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In a world where Humans and Pokémon work together, one would think World Wars would be above both…
Sadly, the humans of this world don’t share the same connection to Magic as their companions do.
And what’s worse, there are those who were simply born to be malicious, turning their own companions against the world.
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“You should be commended. It has taken me a long time to find this place.” Despite his placement on the floor, vulnerable and on his back, the old man glared a little at the Nazi in full leather who clearly led the other men considering they all stood at attention.
The man ordered the others to bring him up,
but despite him being close to eye level with the tall man, he could tell the Nazi was looking down on him in more ways than physically. Almost as if he thought he was above a mere mortal such as him.
“I think that you are a man of great vision. And, in this way, we are much alike.”
“I am nothing like you.” The old man couldn’t help but growl the sentence out a bit, the audacity of the man to assume they were similar when he helped murder thousands a month simply because they were different.
“No, of course,” The Nazi continued, barely acknowledging the other man’s rage, “but what others see as superstition, you and I know to be a science.” The words were like ice across his back, but he refused to flinch.
“What you seek is just a legend.” He needed to calm down, knowing that his anger could jeopardize the location of just what he was protecting. He, nor the rest of the world, couldn’t afford the Nazi’s gaining access to it.
“Then why make such an effort to conceal it?” The man made his way toward a coffin, and the elder saw his chance. As slow as he could, he reached for the pokéball inside his pocket as the other soldiers watched their superior open the coffin easily when three of them struggled to even budge it.
Just as the man held the fake relic in his hands, he managed to get the shrunken ball inside his fist without anyone noticing, waiting for the moment he could act as the Nazi marveled the relic.
“The Tesseract was the jewel of Odin's treasure room.” The man turned to the elder as he held the relic in such high regard, it almost made him relax…
…If he hadn’t dropped it and let it shatter across the floor like the glass he made the fake from.
“It is not something one buries.” It felt like he blinked when all of a sudden the Nazi was in front of him once again. “But, I think it is close, yes?”
“…I cannot help you.”
“No, but maybe you can help your village. You must have some friends out there, some little grandchildren, perhaps?” The shock alone at the implication almost made him drop the pokéball in his fist, it was ironically the mention of grandchildren that snapped him out of it.
Meray and Baraz…they must be so terrified…
“I have no need for them to die.” Honestly, he could see why this man was a superior officer in ranks, a voice promising rewards or punishment, confidence strumming off his figure easily.
With some hesitation, he gestured a bit toward the mural near the back of the room, looking at it in some sadness.
It was carved directly into the wall, a story passed down from his family for generations. How their village was once threatened by a terrible beast adorned in golden rings. How the beast once showered their village with riches, and eventually, war. How Odin himself had sealed the beast away in the very artifact entrusted to his family for centuries.
As the Nazi traces parts of the carvings, he found a particular carving depicting the beast summoning several other creatures, one of which was a snake with its eye jutting out of the mural.
With a soft click of the eye, part of the mural depicting the beast had stuck out, as the Nazi reached inside the opening and pulled out the true artifact.
“And the Fuhrer digs for trinkets in the desert.” It was the happiest the Nazi had sounded since he entered the room, turning it to his men so that they may marvel at the brilliant blue glow from it as well.
“You have never seen this, have you?”
“It's not for the eyes of ordinary men.” The elder tried in vain one last time to warn the man of the danger this relic could bring to the world.
“Exactly…give the order to open fire.” At first, the words didn’t even register for the elder…and the moment they did, his resolve steeled.
“Fool! You cannot control the power you hold. You will burn!” He got ready to release Solrock the moment he knew the man’s attention was solely on him, being just a bit more patient before he could run out and try and save as many as he could.
“…I already have.” He didn’t even notice the handgun before the elder found himself yelling.
“Flash!” As he threw the pokeball to the ground, Solrock hadn’t even finished being sent out as it was already using the move. The elder didn’t bother to wait and see if he blinded anyone and was already running as he heard gunfire.
He had to make sure the rest of the villagers were safe, desperate to find his grandkids among the survivors. He had to—
—The final sound Elder Ghris heard was the roar of the reaper, and a numbness spreading across his chest.
When Schmidt finally adjusted his eyes from the sudden flash, he looked ahead to see the old man’s chest caved in next to several shattered rock shards, probably the Solrock he had.
He turned to the entrance to see his Hydreigon hovering just beyond it, the smaller heads still having smoke coming out of their mouths from the Dragon Pulses they fired.
The middle head looked ever forward, despite the dull red of the eyes indicating it was blind. Schmidt scratched his face a little, the mask covering his condition stretching, as he reached into his pocket and tossed the beast a treat.
He had to admit, despite the creature's weakness in sight, it was nice to have the beast watch his back.
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Many believe they know how this story will end, and will simply skip over this tale. And perhaps they are right…but to those who believe…
I am The Watcher, and I will be your guide through this vast and wonderful world of Pokémon…and Heroes.