What's new
Frozen In Carbonite

Welcome to FiC! Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Tales from the Scrapyard [Massive Crossover]



Well-known member
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the properties that will be mentioned or explored in this story. They are all owned by individuals with alot more clout then I do. I do not make, nor intend to make any money off this story. It is a fanfic that is for fun, and not for profit. That is all on the matter. Oh, except the Scrapyard itself, that is my own creation. Then again, it is a Scrapyard... so... maybe don't listen to that little part.

Note from the Author: Right, since this is my first time writing a fanfic, feel free to go ahead and rip parts of this to shreds. It is mainly out here for fun. After all, I need something to keep my sanity up. This fanfic will be avaliable on Spacebattles, Sufficent Velocity and Frozen in Carbonate, thought I might expand it to other sites, such as the main fanfic site at a later date. As for when I can get posts up, I don't know myself, but I will aim to get updates within around 3-4 days if I can. Do note that I am actively employed, I run a large RP and I am currently working on and awaiting responses for my first novel, so I can't guarentee rapid replies. Please don't prod me, I will get round to it!

Also, as a warning. This series will get dark at times. Sure there are a few laughs and heartwarming moments, but it is a dark setting. There will be curses and possible gore in here, although I will be always keep this SFW. Either way, you have been warned.

Now, without further ado...


Where to begin?

There is alot I could talk to you about. I could tell you how most will tell you this story started. Waking up here, on this miserable lump of rock in the middle of nowhere. Or is it more metal than that? Hmph, I wouldn't be that surprised. Neither would you for that matter. I could tell you how some clambered out of the scrap and the junk. How some decided, in all of their tiny little minds, tried to kill whoever and whatever they came across. Sounds familar right? Or perhaps you would just expect it. I mean, you find yourself on a new world, with no one even remotely like yourself running around with no way back home? Why, of course someone is going to snap and try butchering people. Or maybe they were already just like that.

Well, it made sense to me.

Naturally, life finds a way to make sure everyone doesn't just automatically do the same thing. Some decided to band together, despite their differences, and fought back. Little tribes forming across the mountains of trash, the valleys and even the odd empty desert plain. Some of these tribes, scavenging whatever parts they could find, would form civilization. Well, the closest thing to a civilization given they were literally building it out of rusting metal and plastic. A whole world of it.

Perhaps I could tell you the old legends of how the
Wandering Crane first appeared? Quite a literal one, at that. Or how the space hulk fell from the sky? Or the insane ramblings of those who entered the Vale and, somehow came back?

Maybe the first election?

But I'm not. Why? Because their are diaries filled with that kind of stuff all over the place. Nevermind the hundreds of little stories and myths and legends that lesser minded beings would end up spewing up.
Like I said, that kind of stuff is everywhere.

Aim higher than that. I'm already doing so. I always have. And besides, actually building those civilizations has been done to hell and back.

And they are frankly fucking boring.

Besides, I was too busy trying to build a new body for myself, I wasn't really involved in that mess.

I'm going to tell you a better story... of how the civilization and the world that got built up began to fall apart. How the conflicts intensified. Of how old monsters were let loose. About scarcer and rarer resources and greater dangers, about how some of those simple minded souls would finally snap. About the chaos that unfolded, how friends struggled to find each other once more... and the treagedies that unfolded.

Why would I tell you this? Because I have a feeling you will be able to fully comprehend all of this. And someone needs to tell the story, as it happened, and not wrapped in a layer of lies, egomania and insanity.

Rich, coming from me. But hey, someone's got to do it.

Someone has to.

Who am I? Ha. I'm not going to say. I'll let you work it out. If you can.

In the meantime, sit back. Relax. Grab a drink. And listen well. I'm going to tell you the Tales from the Scrapyard.

There are many... but they're all part of the same story.

I'm going to tell you the story... of how that ruined world finally died...

Most amused regards,



Well-known member
Tales from the Scrapyard
I - A
Falling In

But how do we start these tales? Well, there is always one way to get a story started... we introduce... a character. Well, when I say character, I'm actually taking about living, sentient being. One from another world. Or hell, maybe he is from Earth... well... again, when I say Earth, I don't mean yours. Or could it? These new laws regarding the Universes are something I'm still trying to get used to. Habit really. Just focusing on one universe alone with all of it's nonsense was enough to keep even me occupied.

But yeah, the point. Allow me to introduce you to one such character. He had came to the world we'd had come to call the Scrapyard and like the rest of us, not of his own accord. A few would joke he was late to the party. Five years worth of that jazz. But I'd would say he got there just in time. Life has a weird way of throwing people into the dangerous places during the most dangerous of times.

Too bad I was the recieving end of that once... ish.

Especially when one is literally falling headfirst into this mess.

Oh, I never told you what the Scrapyard was right? Well... it's a whole planet filled with nothing but scrap and junk. That... is literally it.

And yet it's not. You see, nothing was as it seemed in the Scrapyard... and it had taken a great deal of time and effort to find out exac- oops. Spoilers.

In meantime... I'll let good Sam introduce you to this ruined world when he came falling in... and again, I must stress... quite literally.

Poor guy never really expected his life to change quite as drastically as he expected.



Sam gazed deep into the ever shifting and changing colours that filled his vision. Looking at how they flowed, how the reds shifted into oranges, then yellows and so forth. His mind wandered, wondering what he had to have had in order to get such a vision. Must have been something in the water again, he imagined. Then again, his body didn't feel sore.

No, scratch that... he couldn't feel his body at all. Legs, limbs, head... and yet... he could still sense at least partiarlly. He could the see the colours obviously. And he hear could a faint hum that almost sounded oddly... rhythmic.

Okay... this is another dodgy dream isn't it?

Even without his body, he could sense himself moving... somehow... forwards. No... being pulled forwards. It was strange... he couldn't move anything... if he even had a body at all at this point. Maybe this was lucid dreaming? He never really bought into that idea, although it didn't stop him trying it once or twice. Just for hilarities sake anyway.

Welp. Better try and do that test... just raise m- oh, of course. No arm. Okay. I can do this, just imagine you have an actual arm.

He focused, trying to imagine what it would feel like to actually have an arm. Tried to conjoure up the image of moving it in front of him.


If he could still pull an expression, he would be frowning. Sam had dreamed before, and once he realised he was dreaming he would normally just wake up. But here... he wasn't.

He tried to think of something else... a hand maybe... or he tried to imagine something in front of him. And yet everytime, nothing happened.

The colours seemed to waver in front of him, and a very faint star seemed to blink into view before him. Growing that little bit brighter. That little bit bigger. Alright... maybe this is me waking up... weird way of doing it alright. I can do that.

The star began to flicker... and not just that. The colours, they began to twist. Morph, as if the simple flowing pattern before him was being tugged to one side...

Hang on... what's this...

The colours began to shift more rapidly, as the force began to tug harder against them... yeah... he could feel it as well now, slowly pulling over. The star tried to flare up... only to vanish. His mind began to race, as concern and fear started to take over. This wasn't supposed to happen. It couldn't have just been shifting to a nightmare now right!? It can't have been! The hum grew ever louder... and began to intermingle with another noise... a faint scratching, like old record where the sound was being was lost.

He was yanked back, the colours unraveling and taking up a new a shape... no, a new form. They began to spiral, twisting and turning round, bending.

Into a tunnel...

At that point... the hum had turned into a howl. A howl so sharp and loud it he couldn't think throughout. He wanted to block out, and near instinctively tried to reach for his ears, but again they weren't there. Now he was pulled forward, his whole essence falling into that eye. The colours evolving into turbulent clouds that crackled around him. He tried desprately to hold onto something, begging for that star to reappear, trying to wake up, to get out of this nightmare.

He fell deeper in, his mind about to go out like a candle as the howl threatened to drown him out existence! He-

Darkness greeted him. And yet... sound remained. A gentle whistle of air. Air that was flowing over his body, ruffling his h-


Sam's eyes snapped open.

Open sky greeted him, a light grey that surrounded him in near every direction. His body shivered, the air sapping at the warmth within him.

And yet, he felt weightless, rotating within that air-

No! He snapped his eyes round. Downwards. Below him. There, a sea of brown, orange, grey and black stretched as far as the eye could see. The ground. Earth. It's features getting clearer... closer!

At last, he screamed as he falled, snapping his arms out only to break out into a spin. Screaming his lungs out the whole way as he fell, the ground rushing towards him.

He didn't even feel the impact.


Sam awoke to the creaking of metal and the whisper of the wind, his whole body aching as he rolled off his numb arm and onto his back. A little rock jabbed at his spine.

I... I'm alive...

The sun sat high above him, a little dot lighting up tiny clouds that pecked the sky. But it was only a partial view, as two dark masses seemed to rise above him. He blinked, and wiped his eyes and allow his vision to clear.

The dark masses were walls that rose up at least thirty metres above him, blotting out a huge portion of the sky. The sun must have just been in the right position to shine down on him directly. But they weren't really walls... no... they were piles of junk. Mounds upon mounds of trash thrown on top of each other for what must have been years on end. He could see sheets of rusted metal, couches, bikes, cars and hell, even a boat sticking out that mess. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. He could make out a few distinct shapes for objects he couldn't even recognise. A silver box? A purple teardrop? What looked like a drill? What?

Coughing, he hefted himself back up onto his back, gazing around the alley of junk he had landed in. He could see fridges hanging out with what appeared to be missiles and stone statues... he could sense his mouth drop. Confusion gripping him tight in it's vice. Great... my dream leads me into a scrapyard... great... another weird as he- dream! Of course!

He lifted his arm up, ready to blow a puff of air onto his blue pa-

Sam froze, his eyes fixed on to something that wasn't his hand at all. It was covered in fine blue fur, with some grey shiny thing resting just on top of it. All of a sudden, a sense of dysphoia fell over him. Shock and then panic gripping onto him like a vice. "What!?". He leapt up to his feet, swivelling round as he looked down at himself. More blue, and some black too! Something slapped against the side of his head, only causing his heart to beat even harder. Something else behind him struck something cold and metallic, a tail! "What the hell is going on!?" he barked. Everything felt wrong, his senses felt too sharp, too good! How could that be?! His eyes locked onto a shiny, intact surface against the side of one of the scrap piles... not even thinking clearly anymore, he dashed over for the mirror and pulled it free of the pile.

A small canine face greeted him, covered in blue fur and what appeared to be a black mask across his big red eyes. Two little ears popped out of the top of his head, as two black appendenges hung from the back of his head.

Finally, in that moment, Sam finally realised what he was. Even as it's - his - mouth dropped open. "I'm a bloody Riolu!?"

The mirror cracked as it struck the ground, and instinct had him leap back in shock, keeping his bare feet away from the shards of glass. His heart slowed as he gazed down at his blue paws. How... how is this even possible!? It has to be a dream! Surely it has to be!

Taking in a cold, hesitent breath, he raised a paw upto his nose and gently blew out.

His own warm air ruffled his fur.

He let the hand drop to his side. No... this... this can't be real...

Sam looked down at the damaged mirror, seeing the broken reflection of the Riolu there.

Of him.

Unable to help himself, he simply dropped to his knees, digits digging into the hard dirt as everso slowly he shook his head. "This isn't real..." he uttered softly to himself, "This isn't real..."

He kept saying that to himself, even as he felt the rays of the sun warm the back of his neck...
Chapter I-B - Falling In


Well-known member
I - B
Falling In

Sam the Riolu​
The Riolu leaned out of the scrap alley he had landed in, his little head swiveling left and right to survey the ground. Although the rusty browned ground he stood on had opened up there were more scrap hills that rose above his head and towards the grey sky, each one filled with such an insane amount of rubbish, he was surprised that they weren't sinking into the dirt from the sheer weight. But regardless, there was not a soul in sight. Human or Pokemon or... whatever.

He shook his head, Can't really stay in here all day...

Taking a breath, Sam stepped out into the open. The ground or trail or... ugh! He didn't know what it was but it was a path! It cut through the trash-heaps and out of sight in two directions. With little choice, he picked one direction and got walking.

It had taken the former human (at least, he was sure he had been) a few minutes to finally admit this wasn't a dream. He wasn't back home lounging on his battered bed. No, he was some damn Riolu in the middle of a Scrapyard. I mean, seriously? Why transform me into a Riolu? I mean, I'm not even a fan of Pokemon! I only picked up a couple of games to pass the time!

One of his paws tightened into a ball. Although... this whole scenario does sound familar... actually, weren't there some games which had someone turn into a Pokemon or something? I swear someone mentioned it... or did I actually play one of those? He moaned softly to himself, "Damn... why can't I remember that?"

He stopped, Ah, losing one's memory was a thing too right?

Kicking a stone out of the way, he kept moving. He tried to remember what he had been doing before he found himself in that world of colours or here... and yet, every single time he tried nothing but a dull fog filled his mind. Eventully, he gave up, focusing on the path ahead. He rounded another bend, cutting past several smaller alleys similar to the one he had left before, at least by appearence at least. In front of him, the dirt ended in a small pile of scrap, only two or three metres tall here. Sam wasn't quite eager to start climbing things, but it still beat thirty metre trash hills. So he scrambled up it, carefully testing to make sure he wasn't going to pull out some loose piece of plastic and tumble back down the mound and onto a rebar or something. But it all held, and he had soon cleared the very top.

Sam could feel his body go limp.

This Scrapyard he found himself in was far bigger than he imagined. The mound he stood on rolled downwards into another valley at least ten metres deep but beyond that, the scrap hills had become literal mountains, rising up even higher into the sky and stretching across the landscape as far as his new eyes could see. Hundreds of little valleys cut their way through the mountains, faintly outlined by brown and occasionally grey lines that he could only assume were paths free from trash. He could make out more even bigger objects locked into the mountains. He could make out yachts, planes... and... wait... in the far distance, towards one of the larger mountains... he could make out the the blocky shape of something sticking out of the side of the scrap. It looked futuristic, with massive tears ripped in the craft's side and what appeared to be some kind of... gun mounted on top? A space ship?

He knew this wasn't just some random Scrapyard back home. Nor was it some weird take on some video game. It was like this whole goddamned world was a Scrapyard...

A shiver ran down the former human's spine. Am... am I trapped here?

"Search ground!"

Sam blinked, Wha-?, he spun round, that call. It came from behind him!

"Advancing." came another voice, deep and gruttal... broken. Something was wrong with it... that didn't sound human. It was too deep, too forced. Sam took a step back, nearly slipping down the scrap slope. Instead, he dropped down out of sight just behind the top of the mound, eyes peering just over the edge of a broken chair.

They finally emerged from out of another alley carved into the scrap hills. They were humanoid in shape with big, muscular limbs, but that was as far as the similarities went. Their skin was a dusty white hide with no hair at all, paired up with faintly glowing orange-yellow eyes and exposed, jagged teeth. They wore dark brown armor, marked with faint red highlights and carried bulky looking guns. Some looked like they were made out of little more than scrap, but a couple carried dark grey weapons, each one lit up by a handful of dark red lights running along their sides... and ending with what could have only been a vicious looking chainsaw slung under their barrels.

Lancers. Which could only mean they-


The Locust Drones moved in near silence, save for the heavy thudding of their feet on the hard ground. They poked their weapons into the mounds to shuffle some of the trash away, reaching into pull out some random item from the mess. Others swept their weapons around them, as if searching for something to shoot.

Sam slide back down behind the mound, pressing his back against a sheet of steel that stuck out from the pile. What the hell are Locust doing here!? Pokemon don't exist in Gears of War for crying out loud! Even I know that much!"

He took a hesitent breath, trying to work through his options. The Locust were never interested in talking to humans, and he doubted they would see him as little more than a snack... he could run! Scramble down this hill and retreat into the valley! But that would take time, and if they might hear him for sure! Maybe waiting would be the best choice of action, wait for them to pass... he glanced around him, looking for something he could use in a pinch. Yes, he knew Pokemon had moves, but he had been human! He didn't have any idea on how to use them! Or even what he had. He eyed something purple half hidden in the scrap, reached in, and winced as metal crinkled as he pulled the pla-

He nearly froze again, seeing the unusual weapon in his paw. It resembled to purple 'C's connected by a black and yellow piece of metal. A Halo Plasma Pistol?! What the hell is this place!? He narrowed his eyes, struggling to hold onto the grip of the weapon. How did it get turned on again - a faint blue hologram blinked into existence at the back of the weapon, and with little choice, he tapped it with one of his digits. With a faint whine, the hologram lit up and with a moment of hesistation, a green beam of energy flared into life at the end of the pistol. He nearly sighed with relief, At least this thing still works!

That being said, Sam couldn't shake of a sense of dread, he had no idea how well it work against those things...

He held the weapon close to his side, ears propped up as he listened into the doings of the Locust just beyond this mound of scrap. Metal creaked and rattled as they seemed to continue searching, only interuptted by a faint grunt of one of the Drones. What was taking them so long? Most of this stuff is junk! What else could there be besides some plasma pistol! He nearly facepawed himself, Alot actually... I mean, they have Lancers and I have a plasma pistol, there could be a nu-

"Move!" one of the Drones growled, and the crunching of their heavy feet shifted. The drones were turning! Moving on! He started to lift himself back up a little bit, focusing on those steps... as they grew ever more distant. Creeping away. His body began to relax, even as the wind shifted and started to blow gently into his face. Looks like he might have been getting away aft-


He froze.

The footfalls fell silent.

He could only just hear the faint huff of something snorting over his shoulder, beyond the mound. "Smell... fresh meat!"

The footsteps returned, crunching the dirt... and getting closer... coming back towards him.

Oh shit...
Chapter I-C - Falling In


Well-known member
I - C
Falling In

Sam the Riolu

He tightened his grip on the plasma pistol, his heart beginning to pound in his chest once more even as the doubt wrapped itself once more around him. What if the pistol didn't take out even one Locust? Could he try and use a move in desperation? Was there even anywhere else he could run to? He didn't know the answers to any of these and he didn't have the time.

"From mound!" barked the same Locust, and the footfalls began to intensify. A jog? He daren't look. He could still run... but he knew he would never get down that slope in time before he got a bullet wedged into his back.

Steeling himself with a sharp breath... Sam pulled the trigger of the plasma pistol, the weapon shuddering as the ball of plasma began to form just in front of the weapon, the familar hum of an overcharge beginning to pound at his ears. Just the like the games...

Something metallic snapped over his shoulder, the boots slamming through it with ease. He turned back to his front, and raised the pistol, struggling to hold the shaking weapon in his hands. He knew he only had one shot.

"Target!" came the growl, as at last the Drone came clambering over the mound, sweeping the mound with it's Hammerburst...

It's disgusting yellow eyes drifted onto Sam.

Sam took aim and released the trigger.

He cried out as the heat washed over his paws, the flap on top of the pistol snapping upto to vent the heat. Nearly dropping the weapon from shock, the Riolu snapped his eyes shut.

But not before seeing the burning green bolt zap through the air and straight into the drone's head. It snapped back, the stentch of burning flesh flooding the former human's nostrils as the Locust toppled over back and over the mound out of sight.

"ATTACK!" came the roar, and so to did the rapport of gunfire. Metal screamed as the bullets struck the mount, sending sparks and burrs flying over Sam's head. Instinct took over as he ducked, trying to keep his head from the barrage of fire. Great job! You killed one and now you're pinned!

The boom of rifles banging against his eardrums, he pulled himself up the scrap mound that was his cover and peered through the wrecked chair. The drones had backed up to take cover more trashpiles, firing on his position.

They ceased, moving to reload their weapons as one of their comrades began to advance back to his position, firing it's Hammerburst from the hip. Too far to waste an overcharged shot, but he could still shoot! He snapped the pistol up and fired down at the Drone. The first shot flew wide, but the next few struck it's chest directly. The big beast groaned, taking another few more steps forward before toppling over forward dead.

He ducked again as the rifles cracked once more, the deadly bullets impacting his own cover. He wished at this point he knew how to pull off a move now, especially without having any idea how many more shots he had in the pistol. That overcharge would have taken a good chunk of the charge out.

That, and he didn't want to try firing the much bigger Hammerbursts.

Something revved into life, and the Riolu's heart threatened to burst out of his chest. There could only be one thing giving off that noise.

The Lancer!

He snapped his head back over again to see another Drone scrambling up the slope, not firing this time, but holding up the more advanced Lancer up in the air.

And with it's chainsaw bayonet snarling. Oh god, not that! He nearly rose out of cover to take aim with the plasma pistol, letting the weapon overcharge again. He knew what those things could do from the games, I'm not going to let you rip me to bloody pieces! He steadied his shaking aim, and released the trigger.

The pistol sparked, the ball of plasma dissipating into the air as the heat rushed over his paws, even more intense than before. Barking as his hand burned, he dropped the boiling weapon to the ground. Not now not now!

The revving evolved into a roar. Sam could only look up to see the drone towering over him, the jagged teeth of the Lancer's chainsaw rac-

With a panicked cry, he dove aside, the Lancer striking the ground where just was with a shower of sparks. Sam scrambled back upto his feet, trying to leap away from the monster. To-

A sheet of metal slid from his underneath him. He tried to stay upright, hold his balance, but that only his foot booted something hard and with a yelp, he fell face first into a bare patch of ground in the mound. No!


"No! Please!" he rolled over, trying to snap his hands up surrender. Or maybe as a last desprate defence? He didn't know as the drone raised the revving Lancer.

The Locust's head exploded in a shower of blood. Sam gasped as the warm ichor struck his face, crawling back whilst the corpse fell aside and barreled down the slope. The Lancer itself fell silent, landing directly in front of him Wait... who?


Sam stumbled back upto his feet, snatched the Lancer as best he could into his paws, and climbed back towards the moundtop.

Peering back over, he could see the Locust had spun back round towards a new threat.

A single, cloaked figure ducked and weaved left and right behind them. A futuristic looking rifle snapping out a retort of gunfire into the monsterous creatures. The Locust roared in response, firing bursts of Hammerburst and Lancer shots back at the newcomer. But with an unexpected grace, the gunslinger slide aside and fired another burst themself. In that second, another two drones keeled over dead. Sam's heart soared with both surprise and amazement, How the hell is he doing that!?

One by one, the Drones were being picked off. Within seconds, there could have only been a handful left. Those Locust had finally had enough, and in a wild rage broke free from cover and charged towards the figure. Sam could't stop himself shouting. "Watch out!"

But the figure only spun round, the cloak flapping around them in a blur... and hiding the huge revolver he pulled out... a faint crackle of golden light forming around it.

At that point, it finally clicked. Sam knew that the Locust stood no chance.

The Guardian's Golden Gun snapped forward and unleashed bright orange flames as it fired it's bullets into the charging Locust. Each one exploded into a shower of golden light, practically disintergrating with an instant.

Before the light had even faded away, the Guardian swivelled the no-longer glowing gun in his hand and slipped into a holster. Sam's mouth was literally hanging by a thread, eyes wide and fixed on the savior. W-Wow! I knew that gun was something but... to see it like that... I-

"Hey! Kiddo!" Sam snapped back to attention, tightening his hold on the cradled Lancer. The Guardian, a Hunter Sam guessed, judging by the cloak, was waving at him. "It's all clear!"

Shakingly nodding his head, he stumbled forward back onto the path. He wasn't sure what possessed him to grab the weapon that nearly killed him, he couldn't use it... but it certainly felt safer than that damn plasma pistol. "What are you doing this deep into the Trashcan little guy?" the Hunter asked, "Been an uptick in the wrong kinds of assholes out here. Ain't safe for kids like you."

Not even phased by the Guardian's comments, thanks to still swimming in adrealine, the Riolu shook his head. "I'm not a kid..." he replied meekly, "And Trashcan? I don't get what you mean."

The Hunter's expression was hidden behind a helmet with a large opaque visor as he rested on hand on his hip, "Really? You've never heard of the Trashcan? Heh, must have been knocked too man-" the man fell silent, "Ah... I get it. You've just fallen in right? Fell from the sky?"

Sam flinched, nearly leaping into the air. "Y-Yeah! But wait... how do you know that?"

A light chuckle rolled forth from the man, "Cos the same thing happened to me. Actually it happened to everyone who ends up in the Scrapyard."

"The Scrapyard? You mean this place?"

"The whole damn planet." he shrugged, "That's what the eggheads say anyway. I've only managed to see a bit of it myself."

The Riolu looked away, "So... there are others?"

"Well, there's Pokemon like yourself. Guardians like me. Came across a few Serans too, they come from the same place as the Locust here. But there are quite a few others around as well."

"But I'm human." Sam stressed, "Or... well... I was..."

The Hunter seemed to slump a touch, "Oh... a double wammy huh? Okay, that sucks...". He straightened up, "Well, we better get moving back to the Bazzar. Grudge!".

A little light formed over the Guardian's shoulder, and a white, complex... orb-pyramid thing blinked into view. A Ghost. "Scoop up all the loot. Got it partner." rolled forth a feminine voice with a thick Texan accent. "I'll get it done." She turned towards the little Riolu, "You can keep that, doubt you can use it yet though."

Before the Riolu could reply, the Ghost had shot off across the remains of the battlefield. "Wait... the Bazaar?" he asked.

"Somewhere safe. It might not get there tonight no, so we better get as much distance as we can out of the Trashcan." he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, "Come on, once we're clear I'll explain what I can."

Sam glanced past the Hunter, back where he had landed before. He wanted to believe that this was still a dream. That he was just imagining all of this... but he couldn't. Something had gone horribly wrong, and needed answers. This Guardian and that 'Bazzar' may be his best bet. And why stay? It wasn't safe, and there was no way he could defend himself.

Turning back to the Guardian, he nodded. "Okay..." he quietly said. "Lead the way."

The start of Sam's story isn't that much different compared to most. Albeit his is better than most. Many never even lasted their first day, often with far better equipment, skills and... well, knowledge of one's own atonomy. That's just part of the nature of the Scrapyard. You have no idea how much luck you are going to have.

Sam there had an awfully large amount of the stuff, especially to meet that Guardian at such a critical moment.

But his story starts at a very specific time. One where this entire world is about to get flipped even more upside down than it already is.

Given that this is the Scrapyard we're talking about here. That's a-fucking-lot.

And little did Sam know, he, alongside more than a few others... were going to find themselves right in the centre of it all. Some of those individuals are true legends even in the Scrapyard and back home.

Including, well... me.


End of Chapter I


Bean Daddy
How massive is this crossover?


Well-known member
How massive is this crossover?
Very big, over a dozen at least, probably more.

It's very much just a wacky scenario about what happened if people and items from every bit of fiction ends up landing in a literal Scrapyard and how they ultimately interact with the myriad of differences.
Chapter II-A - Certain Points of View


Well-known member
Tales from the Scrapyard
II - A
Certain Points of View

Pokemon. Locust. Guardians. That isn't even the tip of the iceberg when you realised what actually showed up in the Scrapyard five years before little Sam finally fell in. See, save for a few lucky ones, everyone arrived the same way. Falling from the sky and somehow making it to the ground in one piece. All of them would wake up to find themselves stuck in this rusting hell that was the Scrapyard. What kind of people you ask? Well, I could break out a list but... you would probably be sat here for at least a month trying to read the whole thing. Not a problem for me, but for you... maybe not so much.

But you see, it wasn't just people who came falling in. All that junk had to come from somewhere right? That was part of the reason I told you about that ex-human first. It's not just televisions and broken coffee tables, it's technology, artifacts and... well, even a little bit of what you might call... magic... that ended up down there. Again, that Type-25, the Hammerbursts and Lancers were just a little selection of weapons amongst the untold billions of items that have fallen into this world.

That doesn't mean it can be easy to find of course... I mean, no one has found a Zero Point Energy Field Manipulator out there. Or a source of unobtainium. Or a murder- actually I'll leave that one out... you see the point is, this planet. The Scrapyard... it's not what you would call habitable. Sure the air is breathable but between the duststorms and all the decaying materials seeping into the soil... it's not exactly got the comforts of civilisation. And yet if these people were going to survive, they would have to scavenge. Search through the junk until they found something useful. In time, some of these scavengers started forming teams and in time... they began to realise they needed somewhere better to sleep at night than the just the dirt and whatever blanket you could find.

So many of those teams started to come together, bringing the loot they had gathered together to build a place to call home. A place to trade and get pissed drunk in with a marginally lower chance of getting shivved.

It became known as the Bazaar.

And in time, a whole town would grow around it. The closest thing you could get to a city on the ground. A little candle of civilisation in the middle of a scrap-filled hell.

Times were tough, that much is true. But regardless, through strict rules, basic human decency, the promise of shelter, a few bribes and... well, someone occassionly taking matters into their own hands and beating the crap out of some unfortunate sod in the back alleys, the Bazaar thrived.

Well... let's just say everything can be altered massively by just one tiny little event.

Or in the Bazaar's case, via a bloody corpse.



The fan slowly spun on it's ceiling mount with a faint mechnical click as something kept jamming into place. Not that the bar could afford or obtain a fully functioning one. It served it's purpose. It hung over the battered bar, complete with it's creaking wood floorboards and dilliapted machines, including an old jukebox that must have came tailend of the 1940's. A long shelf ran along rear wall, loaded with dusty glass bottles, each filled with what appeared to be different alcoholic breverages, beers and whiskeys mostly. But a handful of wines were also included amongst their ranks.

The bar itself however was empty, save for one man sat on the bar. He wore a pair of black pants and a white-grey jumper with rolled up arms and makeshift bits of leather fittings tightened around his attire. His hair was a dull black, just beginning to grey from age. In his hand, he held a small glass of whisky in his hand, it's original bottle laid out just across from him. He swirled the brown liquid in the glass, weary brown eyes focused on it. But even so, it was clear that he was actually deep in thought.

A pocket radio buzzed on the surface of the bar. "Marshall? Are you there?"

Jim Raynor

Raynor sighed gruffly, placing the glass aside before reaching the radio. "Lyons. What's going on?"

The radio crackled faintly for a moment, "Hate to say it, but there's been a double murder in the eastern quadrant"

"Not the first time it's happened down there." Raynor noted, "What's different about it this time?". He had known Lyons for about three years now. She wouldn't be contacting him if it was an open and shut case.

"It's that couple that arrived just over a week ago. Let's just say it's... not pretty and I've got a big crowd gathering. I could use a hand with this."

The Marshall narrowed his eyes, "Alright... on my way..."

He took one final glance at the whiskey, then placed to once side, ticked a tab that lay next to the bottle and made his way out.

The Bazaar opened up before Raynor under an greyish-orange sky, a mishmash of rusting metal structures bunched upto together into a unholy mass. Streets cut through the sprawl with no clear pattern. The chatter of it's inhabitants and the clink and clang of metal being struck. What for was something Raynor could make a speech about. That was what five years in hell would do. He still took a quick glance at the rear end of the Star Destroyer which hung picariously over the settlement, it's hull plating half torn free from it's underside. It cast a trepezium shaped shadow over the structures, blocking out the sun and providing some shelter from it's rays. Raynor advanced down into the Bazaar's streets, passing by the denizens that strolled through it's streets. Scavengers, traders, engineers. People from every walk of life had found themselves on the Bazzar's alleys at some point. Some were decent folk who trying to get by, a few he knew by name. Others were clearly more shady though, engaging in bribes and backstreet deals to try and avoid the unionists.

In the past, when the Bazaar was first being built into a town of it's own, there had been no shortage of crime. It had been made even harder than the diversity of the people in the streets, many he was passing as he made his way towards the eastern quadrant. Most were human, at least in appearence, but others were amongst them. Aliens, robots and everything in between. So when the first leaders of the Bazaar heard of his history and asked him to lend a hand, Raynor accepted.

Just like ol' times.

It wasn't too hard to make his way to the scene. He merely followed the crowds towards one of the shantytowns that had been built up in the quadrant. Here, houses were stacked on top of each other, made shoddily out of srap metal and rusting bolts and with only enough space in the paths to allow for a couple of humans to pass side-by-side at a time. A mass of people had gathered round an entryway into the shantytown itself, shouting over each other and trying to push on in. A few turned, and with a multitude of differently sized eyes widening, they quickly stepped aside and allowed Raynor to pass. For others, he had to only sutbly cough and soon, the crowd began to disperse around him and revealing a path. He strolled past a rather dirty looking stormtrooper and and an officer with a red shirt at the very front of the crowd to find an tall, amoured figure shouting at the crowd, telling them to stay back. They were not clad in the Marine armour he had been familar with in the past. The big, oversized golden shoulders and the bulletproof glass canopy that ran over where his head should have been was the clear indicator that the guard was in Zone Trooper armour. Even with the opaque glass, he could tell that the Trooper had noticed him. "Boss. Good to see you, the Sentinel is just down the alley."

"Thanks Calvin." Raynor said, "I'll send someone over to give you a hand."

"Don't worry boss, nothing I can't handle." the Trooper declared, banging an armored fist against his suit's chestplate. Raynor couldn't help but pull a small smile as Calvin turned back towards the crowd and started barking at them to keep calm. He admired the soldier's gusto.

Sentinel Sarah Lyons stood at the edge of a small courtyard at the shantytown's center. Much like the Trooper outside, she also stood tall in a suit of power armour. Only her's was more old fashioned and battled scarred, her steely blue eyes were fixed on something within, one hand resting on an futuristic rifle slung over her armor's massive pauldron. "Sorry I took so long." Raynor said as he stepped up to her, "Crowds were a little bigger than I thought. Had a hard time getting them to clear away?"

Sarah glanced over at him, the corner of his mouth tightening, "The news spread like wildfire after the bodies were discovered. We were lucky to get shanty cleared before the crowds showed up to take a look."

"You did the best you could Sarah."

She pulled a thin smile, "Well, it is part of my job.". The smile vanished, "I wouldn't call you in if I didn't think it was serious enough, and I didn't want to risk anyone listening into the radio."

Raynor raised an eyebrow, "Right then... I'm here now. Show me."

Nodding, the Sentinel led the way into the courtyard. It was only a few metres across, a few members of the forensic team had already arrived ahead of him. Amongst them what appeared to be an amphibian-like Salarian and a human wearing some kind of sleek white uniform. However, sprawled out across the ground in front of the Marshall was a women, dressed in a simple beige uniform. Or rather, what was left of her. Her clothing was charged black, and her body covered peeling and wrinkled skin, coloured a deep red with some material flaking away. Raynor nearly choked at the burnt stench that came off the body. So burnt that he swore he could see a flicker of bone underneath the flesh.

But her condition was nothing compared to the figure staked to the far wall. They had been charred and burned beyond recognisition, the only indicator of who they was more was their humanoid form and the skull that seemed to poke out of the flesh.

And below the figure, written in a dark, dried substance that Reynor recongised as blood, was a single word.


"Aw shit..."
Chapter II-B - Certain Points of View


Well-known member
Certain Points of View

Jim Raynor

"From what we can tell, the woman is Elva Quindus. At least by what's left of her." Lyons explained as Raynor crouched down next to the body, running his brown eyes over it. "We're still trying to identify the second body, but I have a feeling it's Caeon Fernstone."

"Wood elf, right?"

"Bosmer, yes."

Raynor gazed up at the blood stained word on the wall underneath Fernstone's body. He remembered when the two had first come into the Bazaar. They were both injured after Quindus ended up shooting Fernstone only to get injured themselves. The two were forced to work together to survive out in the junk, and over time had built a bond.

They... had got very close. A few had celebrated the fact that someone in Quindus' position would actually hook up with someone from a different species. But there had been others who questioned it behind the scenes, or even outright hostility. For them, old habits die hard.

At least, that was some of what he had heard.

"Quindus was a Guardsman back where she was from..." Raynor noted, "...this has to be a statement, 'specially with that." he nodded towards the word.

"I figured the same... with all this... it has to be another Imperial."

Raynor sighed, there had been a few different kinds 'Imperials' that inhabited the Scrapyard, but there was one particular group that had always been a pain in the side. They had been preaching about how only human life should be protected, and anything else shouldn't just be kicked out. It had to be exterminated like rats. Some, like Quindus here would eventully change their opinion in time. Namely Imperial Guardsman or members of this so called Mechanicus, but it had only been a small number. But to actually make do on the promise.

"Sarah, we still have records on former Imperials based at the Bazaar, can you get the depature and arrival registers sent over to us?"

"As soon as Ducky can determine time of death, sure thing."

The Marshall nodded at that. Good, it should make tracking down any possible subjects easier and slim the list down. All they would need then was some shred of evidence, and then they could start getting people behind bars.

Provided this lunatic wasn't going to try and kill them when they came knocking.

"I've got to ask." Sarah said, "But who have you got on hand at the moment? I know a few members of the team had to head out a few days ago."

"Luc and Felix are still in town." Raynor said.

The power armoured woman rolled her eyes, "Great. Him."

"I know he's an asshole, but he's damn good at his job."

Lyons frowned, "I'm just waiting for him to slip up."

"If he does, I'll send him upto the brig. You know that."

"I'm still holding you to that."

The Sheriff's Station was located towards the centre of the Bazaar, underneath the stern of the Star Destroyer and yet above the bulk of the town. It was a realtively small building, at least compared to some of the monstrosities that formed the trading areas and the shantytowns. It was only a single story tall, and only had enough space to house around eight desks in the main room, including one of the few holographic projection tables ever recovered in the Scrapyard. The only other rooms on hand in the station was a trio of cells at the back and, naturally, a bathroom.

As Raynor walked on in, Luc was already waiting for him.

The guy that was leaning against his desk was only about half as tall as Raynor was and coated in a mish-mash of blue, black and cream fur. Red eyes fixed into a canine head looked down at small tablet within his hand - or rather, spiked paw. "Jim." he said, not turning to face the terran.

"Luc." Raynor greeted him, "Already heard about what happened with that aura trick of yours?"

The Lucario pulled a thin smile, placing the tablet down. "I sensed the crowd's tension from the next quadrant. It didn't take long before I picked up your aura after that." He stepped away from the desk, turning to face the Marshall. "I've already sent the call out to Felix."

"Saves me having to do it, thanks Luc.". The terran strolled up towards the projection table, starting to tap into the in-built terminal. An error message flashed for a second, only to vanish with a well-placed thump of his fist. Even though it was a rare piece of technolgy, it didn't mean that it wasn't a piece of crap everyso often.

"Careful Jim." came the cold, snarky voice. "Don't want to break our only good toy now."

Stepping in through the door was another humanoid figure decked out in armour. Only this armour was far lightweight in appearence, with different pieces of armour hanging off a bodysuit. The armour itself was painted a dark grey with orange highlights. An angular looking helmet with a black visior finished the look. Luc let out a heavy sigh, "You know he's our boss, right?"

Felix chuckled darkly, waving his arms as he shrugged. "Eh, I know jackal-boy. Just saying, I had to give up alot of good stuff just to get that thing."

"That's because you wouldn't stop talking." the Lucario growled. "And it was only a vodka."

"A thirty year old vodka!" Felix snapped, "Didn't even get a chance to crack that baby open."

"Alright you two, cut it out." Raynor uttered, "This is a serious case."

Luc and Felix were virtually polar-opposites. Luc was calm and composed whilst Felix was emotional and hot-headed. Introverted and Extroverted. Good and... not so good. Luc had been the first member of the team that Raynor had put together when he became the Marshall. He had been disturbed by the chaos that had taken place out in the Scrap, and had worked to defend those who couldn't protect themselves. He was a natural candiadate when Raynor was called in. Felix on the other hand was as unscruplous as they could come. He was often stealing from those very same people Luc had strode to protect, and had been building up a little criminal empire of his own out in the Scrapyard. It had only been when the power armoured knights of the Lyon's Brotherhood of Steel came a knocking did Felix finally get caught. He would have got locked up in the Brig, or down at the scrap mines if it wasn't for someone in the Bazaar's leadership striking a deal with the mercenary. He would be allowed to stay out of those prisons, as long as he assisted Raynor's unit. Luc was not very happy with it, and to be frank, neither was Raynor. Felix was one of those criminals who would never quite reform. But even Raynor couldn't deny that Felix's and Luc's skills together was a strong match up.

Gathered around the table, Raynor started to project the ID's of the two victims, explaining the early findings. Felix's face he couldn't see through the helmet, but he could almost sense the Pokemon's anger flowing through the air.

When Raynor finished, Luc clenched his teeth. "After all this time... what is even the point of snapping to the killing a loving couple now? Especially one of their own people?"

"Err... to make a point?" Felix said, "The Innies are so full of themselves with this 'purge this', 'heresy that' crap. Ha! I'm surprised one of them didn't do it sooner!"

Luc's eyes flashed blue for the briefest of moments, "That doesn't make it right."

"It's right in their minds." Felix stated, matter-of-factly.

Raynor shook his head, "What we can assume is that one of those Imperials finally decided to murder them, and it's safe to say that they are probably planning on doing it again. Especially after a stunt like that."

"Is the Sentinel already getting the gate logs?" Luc asked.

"Yeah, as soon as they get a time of death." Raynor replied, "Still, we should start trying to narrow down who might have done it. We going to need to look at someone with access to heavy equipment or a flamethrower who also happens to be from that Imperium."

"That's alot of people, even with the gate logs and a time of death."

"The happy coupled got cooked!" Felix exclaimed, "That make things easier at least."

"Not by much." the Lucario muttered.

"Gotta be done." Raynor noted, "And soon, folks who leave bodies for display like that tend to get to w-"

The table buzzed, the hologram quickly fading away to declare an incoming message. Frowning, Raynor accepted the call, and the face of Sarah Lyons emerged into view. "Sarah, you managed to get a time of death?"

"We did." Sarah replied, face cold as steel, "But that's not what I want to let you know."

Luc tilted his head with a look of confusion. "What did you find out."

She took in a shallow breath, "I hate to steal your thunder, but we've might have just found our culprit."
Chapter II-C - Certain Points of View


Well-known member
Apologises for the delay. The forums ate my original post, and I just couldn't get the muse or the time to carry on. This isn't as complete a chapter as I hoped, but it will get something in there for you.

Certain Points of View

Jim Raynor

The foundry, built up out of metal walls and rising up a couple of stories, was located further towards the exteroior wall of the Bazaar. It ran for a few hundred metres in length and been surrounded with a steel wall as a 'deterent' to any would be thieves who decided to have a closer look at the site.

Raynor led Luc and Felix towards the front gate, where the hulking armoured forms of the power armoured soldiers were waiting for them. Even with her helmet on, the Marshall could quite easily recognise Sarah Lyons from the blue stripe running down her helmet. "I've managed to get most of our suits to deal with her... where's yours?"

"Still out for the count." Raynor explained, resting a hand on the revolver strapped to one side. "I'll be careful though."

He could just make out her faint chuckle from underneath her helmet. "Oh, I know that much."

A barred gate was set within the wall, and Felix leaned over to get a better glance through, his expression hidden behind the black visor. "Gonna have to admit, I knew these Imps are nuts, but I didn't think she was this nuts."

Luc's red eyes narrowed at the former mercenary, "Has everyone got out of the foundry?" he asked, ignoring him. Lyon's merely crossed her arms, "We don't know. Most of the workers have evacuated, but some of them are missing. I've got one of my people checking to see if didn't bother coming in."

Raynor scratched his beard as he processed the infomation. It was certainly daring, ballsy even for someone to try pull a stunt even remotely like this. But the timing was perfect if they wanted to get attention and potential hostages. Certainly something a complete fanatic would opt to go for. "Luc, can you sense anything?"

The Lucario shook his head, "Everyone's different emotions is clouding my ability to sense aura." he closed his eyes, "All I can tell you is... something or someone is there is filled with hate... I've not felt an emotion that intense in a long time."

"Sounds like an insane lunatic to me." Felix mused darkly.

Even as Luc glared at the mercenary-turned-sherriff, Raynor glanced back towards Sarah. "Your op, we'll just follow in behind you."

Nodding back, the Sentinel turned towards the squad. "Alright, gather round!" she tapped a button on her armoured arm. "Let's go over the details one more time!"

The squad were mostly sporting armour similar to Sarah's, T-45 Power Armour with their bulky, old fashioned appearences. However, one of the guards was equipped with Zone Trooper armour like Calvin's. Another a more organic looking, but still bulky suit not too different from Raynor's own. A Terran Marine's CMC-300 with it's opaque, circular visor that reflected the shapes of everything near them. "The target is Angelica Ovitar. She's a former Imperial Sister of Battle who is wanted for the double murder. She's broken into the foundry here but we don't know why she's there or if she has taken any hostages, but she is armed and dangerous."

"Sister of Battle?"questioned the Marine, raising an gauntleted arm up.

"A Church Militant." Luc explained, "To defend the Imperial Cult where she came from."

"So, what?" The Marine grunted, "She's a crazy nun!?"

"Yeah, she is!" Felix exclaimed, finally stepping back from the gate and twidling his fingers. "Only topped head-to-toe in power armour, screaming 'heretic' at the top of her lungs and burning everything with a flamethrower, rocket propelled grenade guns or chainswords!"

The Marine seemed to flinch, "Err... what?"

"Oh, and she's gone loopy enough she will pin your burnt carcass to a wall."

The hand dropped, "Oh... shit..."

"She shouldn't have her armour at least." Lyons stated, "Or any of her regular gear. But there is alot of old technolgy and equipment being restored in there, she could get her hands on alot of weaponry in there."

Luc stepped forward, "If she is as hateful as I can feel she is, she won't hesitate to use any means nessessary to kill us. Directly."

"Exactly, so we will take this side of the building whilst Calvin's covers the outside from the far side. We sweep the main floor and every room until we find her. Understood?"

A heavy thud rang out as each of the guards pounded their fists onto their armoured chestplates, confirming they had. Lyon's looked back towards Raynor, and already used to her body languge, Raynor crossed his arms. His brown eyes scanning the power armoured guards. "If you can take her alive, give it a shot. But Ms Ovitar is probably out to make a message. If she is going to stay in there, she'll want to go out with a bang. If she endangers anyone in there, do what you have to do."

Another chest bang confirmed his own words. With that, Lyon's lifted up her blocky rifle and turned for the gate. "Stay together and watch your fire, you don't want to blow up a fuel cell."

She motioned at the gate. "Move in."
Top Bottom