Hello, Everyone. It's been a very long time since I've actually submitted anything to FF, but I've recently gotten this urge to try writing again. Mostly a lot of Pokemon stuff, but I've been doing that for a while now, so I think I've gotten practice…But more explanation on that later. In the meantime, enjoy. 8)
Note:
"Quotes mean someone's talking," 'Italics and single quotes mean thought,' [Bold in brackets mean typing in the computer,] and these arrow things mean translated Pokespeak.
(o)
"Holy shit, man! Who did that to you?"
"Ugh…You know the witch everyone's been talking about? I found him."
"No way! Didn't you use your pokemon?"
"Yes! And he used his!"
Armend Ratoula peeked over his shoulder at the two young men at the PokeCenter counter. Both were around thirteen years old and dressed in the usual trainer attire, complete with pokeball carrying belts. One, however, looked like he had been on the other end of a rhyhorn's Take Down attack. His face was swollen with bruises, blood dribbled from a cut on his lip, and one of his fingers was twisted oddly. He was leaning on his buddy who was smiling, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the broken finger. "So…I guess he's as brutal as they say he is," he laughed. The injured trainer shot him a glare as the nurse came to look him over.
Armend tried to listen for more details on the mysterious witch, but the two boys were more preoccupied with the nurse, and he couldn't get between her and them until she was done either. With a heavy sigh, he dropped back into his supine position on the couch and continued to type on his white, sticker-clad laptop.
For the past few days, word of the witch had been circulated between trainers ever since he first came to Eterna City, and there had been sightings as far as Sunnyshore. It wasn't just trainers who wanted him, police wanted him too for the same reason: he was a trainer who literally fought alongside his pokemon. Actually went and attacked enemy pokemon with his bare hands and everything!
Physical participation in pokemon battles was rare and highly illegal due to how dangerous such battling can be. Even young, low-level pokemon could easily harm a human. Actually fighting them head on was unheard of except for select groups of authorized trainers, and even they only fought with their pokemon during tournaments. A trainer who did this on a regular basis and lived was a challenge no other trainer could pass up.
Armend's laptop made a soft ping as a message replied on the chat room. [C-Box: Or ambulance chasers like you for that matter!] The boy winced. He didn't realize he had been gushing over a likely story again.
[C-Box: Who the Hell goes on a pokemon journey just to blog about other peoples' journeys?]
[C-Box: Oh. I'm sorry. 'Record' other journeys, reporter.]
[C-Box: Can this even count as a 'Pokemon' journey anymore? You never battle. You only taught the others how to run and save your ass.]
[C-Box: I don't even know how you got a team at all! You-]
[C-Box: Spiral eyed (btw Genetics! How do they work!?),]
[C-Box: Crappy sweater wearing,]
[C-Box: Dead zigzagoon hair,]
[A-Man: THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY HAIR! D8]
[C-Box: Skirt chasing,]
[A-Man: FQ]
[C-Box: Are you kidding? It's either a dead zigzagoon with a skinned tail, or you're rocking a spikey afro with a loose string and KILLING it. I'd go with the pokemon.]
[C-Box: U can always say it's sleeping.]
[A-Man: I'm shutting down.]
[C-Box: Ok! Ok! Ok! -_-]
[A-Man: So did you find anything about the witch or not?]
[C-Box: Plenty. And people still complain about cameras in pokegear.]
[C-Box: But. No street address.]
[A-Man: Shit! ] Armend's hands dropped to his sides, and he glared at the screen as C-Box hurled some more abuse. What was happening to the internet? Didn't people care about exact information anymore?
He pushed himself up again.
And then he straightened himself up so fast he almost knocked his computer off his lap. The nurse and the boy with the broken finger were gone, but his friend remained.
There wasn't much time to prepare a proper speech or tell C-Box. Shutting his computer closed, he vaulted himself over the couch and took large, quick steps to his destination. The younger looked up at the sound of Armend's footsteps and was greeted with a massive grin and shining, spiral eyes.
"Hello! Can you tell me more about the witch and where I can find him?"
(o)
Cars and motorcycles honked at him as they went past. Pokemon barked and even tried to chase them. People on the streets dove out of their way and shouted obscenities. Armend and his doduo paid them no mind.
Riding on top of Dial-Up bareback, he spurred the two-headed bird to go faster, and she complied with eagerness despite the blue anklet weighing her down. Her trainer rarely let her move so fast in such a crowded area, but news of the witch had even him throwing caution to the winds. And she was going to enjoy it! With a cry she leaped over a stunned passerby's head and was across the street before he had even turned it.
"WOAH! WOAH WOAH, GIRL!" Armend screamed in a high octave while clutching the bird and his yellow shoulder bag for dear life. "I DON'T WANT TO MEET THE WITCH AS A SMEAR! TAKE IT DOWN A NOTCH!" Ok. So the news didn't make him completely reckless.
They turned down another lane, and Armend's fear gave way to excitement again. This place seemed to match the internet photos perfectly! It was just a cluster of houses and small businesses bunched together. There were absolutely none of Eterna City's usual landmarks; therefore devoid of any way to find the Witch normally. If people hadn't claimed they had met him in this very city on this very day Armend would never have known.
He craned his neck for any signs of battle, but everything looked normal. Urging Dial-Up on, they tried another street. This one looked normal too. Armend chewed on his lower lip. Maybe the next street?
A loud crash and a bang. In an example of the bonds between human and pokemon, Armend and Dial-Ups' heads swiveled in the direction of the noise. Armend didn't need to tell her what to do. Dial-Up sprinted in the correct direction, and her trainer's smile returned.
A wall of people interrupted their progress. From his vantage point on the tall pokemon's back, Armend could make out figures at the center of the crowd. One even seemed to be hurling floating bricks at the others. The sight had Armend bouncing with excitement.
Which, sadly, dampened Dial-Up's eagerness. A mount pokemon she was, but no one liked being treated like a trampoline. Both heads, for effect, turned to give their rider a nasty glare that stiffened him right up. "Heh, sorry, Dial," he mumbled with an apologetic smile.
The apology was accepted and she pushed through the crowd.
The people parted easily enough. Being taller than any of them helped, and no one wanted to deal with something with two heads and two very sharp beaks that jabbed them in the back. In no time, Armend and Dial-Up were at the center of the ring witnessing the match with their own eyes and not just someone else's camera lenses.
There were two humans, a nosepass, and a stunky in the clearing. The first trainer was older than the teenage Armend by at least five years. His green hair stuck out in many directions at once. He was dressed all in leather suggesting he was a motorcyclist or something along those lines, but he didn't seem to be very tough now. He was breathing heavily and was covered in scrapes.
And then there was the witch himself.
He was no more than fifteen or taller than five-six. He wore a simple blue t-shirt, grey jeans, and sneakers; all very casual even if they did look dirty from all of the fighting. Around his neck, hanging like a necklace, was a pokeball, and his hair was a vivid red that framed his face.
But that was as much of the boy Armend could see. Sitting on his head was the reason behind the witch's namesake: an actual witch's hat. It wasn't the black, pointy kind you see in movies, although it did look like it could stand up at one time. It was made of some kind of brown leather and was clearly old. Even as the Witch moved, Armend could see the cracks and wrinkles forming across the hat's surface. It was almost silly looking, if it weren't for the fact that its huge rim almost completely obscured the Witch's face. Between the hat and the hair, all Armend could make out was the Witch's nose and a hard, thin mouth. No eyes. No emotion. No features.
No mercy.
The green haired biker opened his mouth to shout a command, but the witch got to him first. In a blur of motion, his collided with the biker's jaw. As an added insult, the Witch then swung his leg into the older man's ribs. With a THUMP the biker hit the floor still awake and crying out in pain.
Alarmed, the nosepass spun around in confusion. His trainer was writhing on the ground and couldn't give commands. But it was still in battle, so he couldn't leave the fight either. The poor rock pokemon just didn't know what to do at all.
The stunky, however, had no such hesitations. She shot at the Compass Pokemon like a little purple arrow. Her claws stretched themselves out and became pitch black as a smog of purple, dark energy warped around them. The stunky's Night Slash sliced through the nosepass' rocky frame leaving a hideous crack on its famed nose. Completely stunned and unable to process that much pain, the nosepass wobbled on its legs a bit, and then fell to the floor. Neither he nor his trainer got up.
It wasn't until the echo of the nosepass' faint dissipated that Armend realized that he probably was making the same kind of face the rock pokemon was when it realized it was hit. Looking around he was relieved to find that he wasn't the only one. The entire crowd and even Dial-Up had gone numb from shock at the ruthless display of battling.
The silence hung on everyone; no one except the stunky dared to break it. The small skunk was celebrating with a victory dance and the occasional spout of flames into the air from her mouth.
Her trainer was quiet, but he was no better. No! Scratch that! To Armend he looked completely at ease. Even bored as he ignored his fallen opponents and his stunkies' celebration. He looked at the crowd, probably even met each of their eyes as he spoke for the first time since Armend arrived.
"Who's next?"
(o)
So be honest, how was that everyone? The Witch and Armend are characters I've been writing about for a long time now, but I've been looking forward to writing this particular story. If the descriptions about their appearance make no sense I do apologize. Physical appearance is a hard thing to get in writing for me. So many details…
If any one of them make no sense to you, my avatar should provide an ample image of them. That and my DA page though I wouldn't recommend that due to spoiler alerts.
Anyway, see you next time.