Rising Dreams... (PMD2 Alternate Story)

Waking...

BOOM! And so, the guns sound blared out through the room, followed by the sound of a thud hitting the ground. People cowered, some screamed, some cried, some ran. There was no remorse for the person who had just dropped, their body kicked to the side, made an example of. No tears shed were for him, nor screams were in opposition on his death, no moves made to help him, everyone was too self absorbed to care about another. 

He man laid their, groggily as his body was stepped over. Blood poured from his stomach, staining his white shirt. His vision blurred, his body grew limp, he was dying, yet no one helped him, the distraction he made had surely bought people some time at the very least. He slowly looked around at the men rounding up people, what a horrible hell they lived in. 

He slowly gained the ability to use his muscles, and propped himself up on an elbow. He grabbed a sharp piece of glass on the ground near him, the remains of his impromptu weapon he used earlier. Its jagged edges cut his flesh open, yet he didn't flinch, he knew he was done. His life was over, an utterly helpless situation. His life was full of nothing but failure, even now, as he bled out, he lacked any feeling of accomplishment, he had to do something. 

With a final burst of adrenaline he jammed the shard into the calf of the man standing near the soon to be corpse. The man dropped with a horrendous scream as the maniac pulled the glass out and sliced the achilleas' tendon of the man. As the body hit the ground a man moved quickly for the gun. He jammed the trigger down, a shower of bullets being sprayed in the general direction of the targets, some hit, but most missed, and within seconds, a return of lead was shot, quickly ending the stunt. The man laid there. The last of his life finally leaving his body, and for the first time in years... he smiled. A very faint, yet noticeable shift of the expression, and with that, the darkness took him. 

---

An entity shook its head as it looked down at the mess of a body it had been tasked his dealing with. It wasn't one of displeasure or annoyance, but one of disappointment. Not disappointment of the person, but the world they came from, and how they died. The entity had observed everything. It observed everything everywhere. Yet, its powers were growing weak as its world decayed. As the centre of its power slowly, yet surely crumbled. 

It had an idea. It could send this vessel. This human to its world to try an save it. It was a clear pallet. Not yet formed of the idea of the world, yet old and mature enough to take it on. And since the body and soul were mostly intact, it could attach a little bit of its life force to it, and use that to transmit thoughts and communicate. It was the best option so far, and so, mustering its power, the entity went through the procedure before transforming the body into something more... capable and inconspicuous for the world it was to wake in. The entity then opened a portal, and threw the body into it.

---

The cold water brushed up against the mans side. Again. Again. And again. It continued to the same rhythm. The damp sand underneath him further causing discomfort. Yet he couldn't move. Part of him didn't want to move, it had given up. Some of him thought this was the afterlife, and that he was merely in a state of judgment. And a bit of him hoped that everything that had happened was a bad dream. One of the ones that plagued him constantly.

Regardless, his senses slowly came back. His vision fixing into a black, star lit sky. The sound of gentle waves crashing nearby him. The smell of the salty see breeze. The taste of bad breath after you just wake. 

He let out a shallow sigh, in a breath the just didn't sound like his own, yet he chose to ignore this. The man took his sweet time. Not moving out of want but out of necessity as the tide slowly grew, now starting to hit his face.  

He rolled over, the sand sticking to his body cause further discomfort, it was at this moment, he decided to get up. He brushed the sand off his body, then paused for a moment. This was his realisation. He looked all over his body before moving to the waters edge, looking at himself in the reflection cast by the moon a feeling of shock overcame him. Replacing his normal features was a roundish purple mass. He had turned into a fictional creature. A Pokemon. Gengar. He had played the series a fair amount through his life, but...