Pokémon Scyther High

[NebulaDreams]

Heartbreak!!! Will Night Terror Find True Love???!!!​

Night Terror strutted through the school halls, excitedly clinking his blades together. He just got invited to a house party happening later that night, and Scythe was sure to be there, his one true love, his snookum bookum schnookum for life. He just had to get through the rest of the school day without falling asleep. At least flying practice would’ve been fun.

He was on his way to home economics when he saw two soaked Machokes crowding around a locker. What were those sweatmops doing?

“H-help! S-s-somebody!” Someone screamed from behind the muscle moshpit. Immediately, Night Terror rushed to the scene and pointed his claws at the two.

“Hey!” he shouted, “what are you dumb jocks doing?”

One of them turned around and sneered at him, gripping a four-eyed Kadabra by his yellow moustache.

“What’s it to ya, bub?” Machoke 1 said.

“Yeah, youze some kinda nerd, too?” Machoke 2 said, flexing his biceps.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Night Terror said with a grin, “didn’t your mom get you Swanna Lake tickets?”

He blushed for a moment, then his whole face turned red as he swung his meaty fist at Night Terror -- swiftly blocked by his scythe.

“Bringing a fist to a knife fight, huh?” Night Terror swiped at the Machoke’s pants, shredding his clothing, or at least, the top layer of skin that looked like clothing. He instantly relented, covering his unmentionables as he ran across the corridor, naked as, well, a Machoke. Night Terror pointed his claw at the other lackey -- Machoke 2 just ran away along with him, carrying his partner’s tattered briefs.

The Kadabra adjusted his glasses and bowed before him.

“U-uh, t-t-thank you.”

“No problem,” Night Terror said, winking at him. “Those clods never learn, do they?”

“U-um, well, it-it was kind of my fault, actually.”

Night Terror hummed, waiting for his story.

“Well, they were, um, being mean to me in the first place, putting all my books in the garbage. So I, er, lifted a mop bucket with my powers and emptied it over both their heads.”

Night Terror suppressed a snicker. “They deserved it, then.” He extended his blade. “What’s your name?”

The Kadabra stared at the claw and just lightly tapped it with his own slightly less sharp claw. “Abacus.”

“A bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

“So is yours.”

Night Terror only snickered at that.

“Say, wanna come to the party later? I’ll show you around.”

“Um…” He rubbed his hands together. “Won’t other Machoke be there too?”

“Eh, I’ll chase ‘em off if any of them bother you, okay?”

“Right.” Abacus smiled. “I’ve, um, never been to a party before.”

“Well, you will today.”

And so, the two waved each other goodbye as they went to their respective classes. Home economics was a breeze, as he excelled in his class at chopping onions. Then again, everyone else in his class was an expert in that, but he was the expertest. He made them all cry because of his skills… and the onions.

As he chopped and wept, he pined for Scythe, imagining what it would be like once he finally met up with her today. He longed for her sweet laugh. Those radiant claws. Those head growths of hers. Of course, he had to be Abacus’ wingman for the duration of the party, but she would probably find that impressive as well. He chopped away as he thought about what he would say to her--

THUNK! That cacophony snapped Night Terror out of his reverie, and finally, he saw that he had chopped the kitchen counter in half on accident. The teacher, Ms. Taken, glared at him, crushing the chalk to dust in her pincers.

“Right! Detention!”

Crap. He should’ve paid attention there, but then again, the counters were made of wood, so why did they make them so easy for Scyther like him to break? Now he had that on his mind for the rest of the day, and even when he glanced at Scythe as she passed by, he didn’t return her smile. Now he had to waste time after school in that stuffy room, he wasn’t sure he could make it early for the party. And what about Abacus?

That would have to wait. After the final bell for the day rang, Night Terrors slunk over to the detention room, dragging his claws across the floor as he walked. As soon as he entered, he was immediately reprimanded by the teacher there, Mr. Abraxas, the Alakazam.

“Hey, sorry I--”

Night Terror grunted as Abraxas telekinetically fired a chalk bullet at him.

“Quiet,” he said, not even batting an eye at Night Terror, The teacher was still doing his own business, hovering above the desk as he graded a floating stack of papers to his left, and flicked through a levitating book on philosophy by Immanuel Kanto to his right. Night Terror was dumbstruck. Then he noticed that the cover of his book was upside down.

“You know you’re reading the wrong way, righ--”

Another piece of chalk to the forehead.

“Sit,” Abraxas said. Without warning, he lifted Night Terror up with his psychic abilities and placed him in one of the desks. He gave him a sheet of lined paper and a small pencil.

“Repeat: ‘Thine art a doofus’, a thousand times.”

Night Terror stared at his claws. Abraxas stared back at him.

“I can’t write.”

“Balderdash. Balance them between your claws, or write them with your mouth, or do whatever. Just write them.”

He thought of one way to get out of this. If he didn’t have a pencil, he couldn’t write those lines, right? So Night Terror picked the pencil up between his blades and clamped down, splitting it in half.

“Hmm, you think you can Weavile your way out of this one, correct?”

“That pun doesn’t work as well as you think it does--”

Abraxas clicked his fingers and a mountain of pencils crashed down on Night Terror, burying him in a pile of wood and lead.

---

Hours passed, and many pencils were sacrificed along the way, but Night Terror was finally flying to the party. The sun had already set, and night settled in, bathing the Scyther in moonlight. The view from the sky was a sight for sore eyes, as all of the buildings appeared as specks beneath him, and the streetlights below twinkled like the stars above. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

Eventually, he found the house that had a green and white flag draped over the roof. So he swooped down and crashed through an open window, knocking over a poor Machoke and his fruit punch.

“S-sorry!”

That Machoke was the same one he pantsed earlier, who had to cover his shame with heart-patterned pants. He jumped up and his face dropped at the sight of Night Terror.

“What da hell is wrong with you?!” he yelled, eyes wet with tears. “J-just leave me alone!” He ran through the hallway and charged down the stairs, wailing.

Wow, he didn’t mean to go that far earlier. Well, he kind of did for Abacus’ sake, but anywho, Night Terror was finally here. Music blared downstairs. Pokemon of all types chittered. Slowly, Night Terror made his way to the party too, trying to find that shiny-clawed Scyther. He pushed past the crowd of all shapes and sizes, trying to make sure his blades didn’t impale anyone along the way. He had to get some of that punch, at least. They couldn’t drink alcohol, but that was still the closest thing to it.

On the way there, he saw Abacus, who danced in place and laughed like a Mightyena as he downed pint after pint of punch. How did he get drunk if there wasn’t any booze in it? Maybe it was a sugar high. Still, he was surrounded by lots of different Pokemon, including some lady Machoke, so he proved to be quite popular. Good for him.

Finally, he got to the punch bowl and bumped into his sweetheart: Scythe. Instead of drinking it by the cup, she drank it by the ladle, somehow managing to hold it with her scissor-hands.

“Hey!” Night Terror said.

“Yo!” Scythe said, downing her mouthful. “Glad you could make it!”

“Yeah, sorry I got held up, there.”

“I mean, you broke a freaking table in half, nobody’s done that in the history of ever here.”

Night Terror clicked his blades, half-jokingly. “Well, sorry I don’t have a sleight of claw like you do, missy.”

“Missy?” She quirked an invisible eyebrow at him. “You seriously wanna pick a fight with me?”

Night Terror felt it then. That fighting instinct. That feeling beneath his shell. He sharpened his blades in response. Scythe picked up the entire punch bowl in her claws and downed the rest of its contents in one gulp, letting out a massive burp in his face.

That was it. Night Terror started with a Fury Cutter, cutting at her furiously. Scythe then followed up with a Wing Attack, attacking Night Terror wingingly. Everyone else ran out at that point as everything in the room got totalled in their wake. The furniture. The TV. The houseowner’s expensive Smeargledor Dali paintings. At some point, though, the two let out all of their aggression and just stood in the middle of the wrecked lounge room, smiling at one another through cuts and bruises.

One minute, they were duking it out, the next minute, they were munching on the party snacks, which was on the party table that was still somehow intact. Scythe stacked a whole pizza on one of her claws and practically ate all of it in one bite. She then skewered the last pizza and pointed it to Night Terror, which he bent down and ate. She laughed that wonderful laugh, somewhere in between a titter and a chortle. Then they stared at each other, his eyes into hers.

She looked just as radiant as her blades. Her face, as green as a Tropius’ butt. Her brow ridge, as browed as ever. Her jade eyes pierced into his. They leaned into one another, and Night Terror’s lips almost touched Scythe’s carapaced--

Isobel exited the Natuflix app, blowing a raspberry at the screen. Her ship was ruined -- of course, she hoped they would get together, but not like this. What was the point of watching Scyther High anymore if they hooked up so early, 153 episodes in?

HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S!