Chapter One: Captured!

The door slammed shut with the echoing clang of metal against metal, sealing the young human girl inside the spacious room, where she stood, alone, on the hard floor. She hardly flinched at the loud noise, pursing her full, cracked lips and fixing her eyes stiffly on the pattern of rocky tiles before her. Instantly, the raw determination inside her reared its head back and began to cackle in satisfaction, the burning, gleeful sensation that the place always instilled in her surging through her veins like sharp acid.

The room was cold, the air seeming to vibrate in unsettling, tiny motions as it always did. It filled anyone who entered with an inexplicable unease, for the miniscule movements caused them to shiver instinctively as their subconscious registered the change. They themselves could never place it, this feeling that was so eerily unlike the warm stillness inside most indoor rooms. And this…this was without a doubt a strange one.

The building could only be called a fortress, a bizarre place for anyone, any person, to inhabit. She couldn't speak for the Pokemon. The structure loomed toward the sky in a winding spiral of rock encased in metal, the two strongest materials anyone knew, offering protection against essentially all types of Pokemon. Metal—steel—was one of the strongest defenses against all the elements, but it still had its weaknesses—the heat of fire, ground, and the sheer strength of fighting. So the fortress had installed a second defense—solid, unbreakable rock. The girl smiled. It was nearly invincible. Flawless. So brilliant, it deserved her high praise that evenshe herself could have conceived of it.

She had treaded up the long, twisting staircases of the tower, her strides clacking jarringly against every stone step through the dark, narrow, torch-lit corridors. Portraits of various types of Pokemon were hung on the cobblestoned walls, and as she strode past each one, she liked to imagine herself capturing it, holding the Pokeball in her hands, taking control of its powers. She had passed a few other minions on her way up, and each of them had quickly averted their eyes and lowered their heads in fright, quickening their pace as they passed her. Her mouth curled in satisfaction at the thought. She was very high-ranking, so close to the Skipper.

Click. She flinched, then, annoyed at the petty noise that had interrupted her ever-important train of thought. A scowl curled across her lips, a pout that snarled without words her irrepressible desires and hinted menacingly that they were almost always fulfilled.

"So!" uttered the voice without a face, seemingly emanating from the solid wall. It angered the girl that she did not know where it came from whenever she heard that click, causing whatever projected its words to switch on. What an arrogant person its speaker must be! For the longest time she had strained her ears and tried to decipher the speaker's identity from his or her voice each time she had a new report to make. But to her chagrin, its pitch hung somewhere just in between high and low, soft and undulating and seemingly volume-less—almost friendly, even—so that she could never place even the gender of the speaker, much less his or her identity.

It was no matter. She had to obey the silent, unspoken question the voice projected with that one word, and cough up the answer it demanded. If only she had that power, she thought with disgust. Arceus knows I deserve it.

"It's true, Skipper." The girl inclined her head in a false sign of respect. The voice called itself the "Skipper," a name that meant leader, commander, with a wry, appealing twist. "I've found it!" A note of triumph crept into her exclamation.

"So I was right," the voice marveled, satisfied. "I could feel it in my skin, its heat, its energy. I…I can do that, you know. I knew it had happened." It chuckled. "Say, how ever did you find it?"

"I know where these things live," the girl fired back defiantly, prickling at the perceived offense to her abilities, which she deemed endless and magnificent. "I saw them together…and I knew that must be the one. Obviously. No other Charmander ever hangs around with…with water so nearby."

"Well, isn't that great?" Skipper chuckled. "It's perfect. Can't you practically taste it, right in front of us? It's just the last piece now. So close…and then we'll have everything. And you can share it, too, of course." She heard a noise that sounded like a contented sigh. "Now you know what to do. Obviously."

The girl nodded firmly as a haughty smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "Yes, don't worry. I'll catch it." She thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket and spun around, her hair flying behind her like a nest of snakes.

Without bidding Skipper farewell, for at her elevated rank, she did not need to, she unlatched the door and stormed outside. It clanked and clattered behind her, and the noise of her harsh leather shoes slapping against the stone floor seemed to echo the clash of the metal. She could imagine Skipper, shaking its head disdainfully at her impertinence, and switching off the device that amplified its voice through the wall. As the girl descended the endless flights of stairs, a new resolution in her gait, the fire she sought seemed to burn unquenchably in her own body, doused by no measure of the cool spring air outdoors, no measure of water.

The pond's surface, gleaming like a silver film that stretched from one shore to the other, trembled and rippled as gentle waves rose and crested above it. The reflection of the boulder above undulated and shattered with the flow of the water, the rough, craggy stone appearing to splinter into a thousand pieces that drifted lazily upside-down in the twin morning sky, constantly shifting, trapped delicately in the watery hold of the mirror world.

Without warning, a jet of water burst through the film, bubbling and shooting into the air in a whirling cyclone of foam. "Ha!" exclaimed a triumphant, burbling voice. A small blue figure hurtled out of the water, leaving a loud splash in its wake, and sprang onto the grass. It shook itself off and beamed at another figure, this one glowing bright orange, perched on top of the boulder.

"Good morning, Squirtle," the orange figure greeted in a shy, friendly voice, though the words in which he spoke were nothing that we humans could understand. They could only hear them as the syllables of the creature's own name, Charmander. The Charmander flickered and burned against the hazy blue of the sky.

"Morning!" Squirtle grinned. "How ya doin', ol' pal?"

Charmander yawned and unfolded his small, round, salamander-like body, blinking his large blue eyes. The sun paled in its yellow against the flickering scarlet flame smoldering at the tip of his tail. "Great, actually. That was a nice wake-up!"

"Why, thank you." Squirtle raised his head proudly, curling the blue, furry tail that emerged from the bottom of his turtle shell. "I do try."

Charmander smiled, readied his legs, and with one spry leap, leaped from the rock and stuck the landing perfectly next to its watery friend. "Might as well start the day, then," he chirped brightly.

Squirtle and Charmander bounced past the lake, around the boulder, and into the sunlit trees of the forest. The morning rays dappled the path ahead with the fluttering pattern of leaves, dancing in the wind. The breeze swept past Charmander's flank, and he rejoiced in the sensation of freedom.

The two Pokemon had been living in the wild all their lives, traveling together ever since they had met. Charmander loved being able to enjoy the wilderness; he knew that humans journeyed often through these woods, trying to capture Pokemon of various kinds to train them. He had to admit that he was curious about what happened to those Pokemon—he heard that they lived great lives, that being trained by humans was a whole other kind of life that, though utterly different from living in the wild, didn't seem any less pleasant, according to what he had been told.

Squirtle was a little more skeptical about the human trainers; he needed, Charmander knew, to truly and fully respect a human in order to agree to travel and train with him or her. Charmander himself, too, cherished being out in the wilderness on his own, free to do whatever he pleased, and he especially liked spending the days with his best bud.

Charmander grinned at the thought; it must be weird, he mused, to imagine a fire Pokemon and a water Pokemon as being best friends. But he remembered the day they met, and the memory always brought the two of them to laughter.

Charmander had been foraging for berries in the forest that day, humming to himself as he scampered about the leafy bushes and over the roots of the trees. As he gathered the berries and popped the juicy, round fruit into his mouth, the scales on the back of his neck tingled unpleasantly. He froze, clutching a berry in his hand, and fear rose in the back of his throat. He felt as if he were being watched. Slowly, he swiveled his head around to spot a flash of blue behind a tree.

Reflexively, he threw his head back and howled, "CHAAARRRRRR!" Fire roared out of his open mouth toward the tree, and the blue figure jumped in shock and barreled away, its skin singed. Charmander raced after it, still hurling flame from his mouth as he ran, determined to find out what that blue thing was and what it had been doing.

"!" the blue Pokemon panted as he sprinted, terrified, dodging the flames that came surging at his back. Quickly, he dashed toward the pond—the same pond they had just come from—and dove in. Charmander gasped at the sight of the water, but it was too late—unable to curb his speed, he flailed his arms and plunged in after Squirtle.

The liquid bubbled and rose around him like a curtain, stifling, suffocating; he let out a muffled cry as the fire within him sputtered and slowly began to fizzle. The water was pressing in on him…heavy, so heavy…he felt as if he were trapped in the smothering folds of a deadly velvet cloak. His eyelids drooped…he felt his limbs give up the struggle and sag limply at his sides…and inside him, a deep ache, like ashes, burned excruciatingly as he curled his tail around his back and let go…the fire, fire, letting go…

And suddenly, his stomach lurched as a great force hauled him upward by his arm. Charmander gurgled in shock; the water rushed against him in a spurt of energy, dragging him back, reluctant to release its hold as he rocketed up. The viscous resistance disappeared as with one last heave, something launched him up and out of the water. Hearing the loud splash behind him, he soared through the air, and then slammed onto the ground with a violent thud. The impact reverberated painfully through his body, and yet he had never felt so relieved, so grateful for the sharp sensation it brought him. He crouched on the grass, unable to move, and raised his chin in awe, wondering what had saved him.

The Squirtle stood above him, dusting his hands, his violet eyes wide in concern as he peered down at Charmander. "Char…?" Charmander croaked weakly.

"You all right there?" Squirtle squinted and bent down.

Charmander panted, catching his breath, and then nodded. "Thank you," he gasped, finding the words. "You saved my life."

Squirtle waved his hand dismissively. "No problem, really, it was no big deal. After you almost burned my shell off, it was the least I could do." Charmander lifted his head in alarm, but he relaxed as he caught the glimmer of mirth in Squirtle's eyes.

"Yeah…sorry about that." Charmander slowly pulled himself to his feet. He felt all right again—nothing had been damaged but his fire, which was healing rapidly as the warmth of the sun rekindled the weakening flame. He lowered his head sheepishly. "I thought you were spying on me."

Squirtle shook his head, smirking. "Squirtle-squirtle," he admonished, wagging a finger in Charmander's face. Charmander's nose twitched; he jokingly exhaled a wisp of flame toward his finger, and Squirtle jerked away with a cry. The two stared at each other for a moment, and promptly burst into laughter.

They had been friends ever since that day, looking out for each other and journeying through the forest. They strolled side-by-side now, Charmander's tail flame bobbing and shining strong, as Squirtle whistled merrily next to him, his tail wagging with each step. The mountains rising in the distance cast a crisp-blue silhouette against the pearly clouds, and birds chirped cheerily around them. The leaves rustled as bug Pokemon crawled among the twigs and branches, the noises of life echoing all the way to the dirt. Charmander breathed in the balmy air and smiled. It was another ordinary, peaceful day in the forest.

"I'm going to see if there are any berries over there," Squirtle told him, pointing. "I'll be right back." He scampered away into the bushes. As he waited, Charmander curled himself on a rock nearby, basking in the warm sunlight and humming to himself.

Hardly a minute had passed before he heard an abrupt crash, followed by an alarmed cry of "SQUIIIIR-tle!" His eyes flared open as he sprang from the rock and bolted without moment's hesitation into the bushes where Squirtle had disappeared. Thorns grazed his skin, but he barely noticed. His friend needed him!

Charmander gasped as he broke through the nest of brambles and stumbled into the clearing where his friend stood. Squirtle stood face-to-face with a massive Ekans. It bore down upon him and hissed, slithering its purple body into a coil, its forked tongue darting out. Squirtle clutched a handful of berries, shaking; he had backed into the bushes, and now, cornered, he gazed up at the Ekans with his mouth open in terror.

"CHAR!" Charmander leaped in front of his friend, drawing himself to his full height and glaring at the Ekans. It wavered for an instant, then doubled its fury as it descended upon him. Charmander braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut, and opened his mouth to launch a massive tongue of flame at the Ekans's face. It cried out in pain and thrashed blindly, throwing its head toward the ground.

"Ekans, return!" Charmander spun around, surprised at the piercing, girlish voice that rang out from somewhere in the bushes, its speaker hidden from sight. The Ekans disappeared with a flash of red light, and the voice hollered, "Jigglypuff, go!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he registered the sight of Squirtle waving gratefully at him and dashing away. As he watched his friend, zipping into the distance, out of sight, he wondered vaguely, How will I find him later?

But there was no time to think. Charmander turned back, his teeth bared, to face the pink, rubbery ball that blinked its huge turquoise eyes at him. It beamed, then, and began to sing.

"Jiiiiiiiigglypuff…Jigglyyyyyypuff…"

As Charmander summoned the flame in his belly, something felt off, suddenly, like he was losing coordination of his body as the calming music filled his ears. His tense, battle-ready muscles relaxed, and though he pushed harder at them, the attempt was futile. His eyelids began to droop. No! he screamed at himself, but it was no use. His entire body relaxed against his will, soothing the heat of the fight into a warm, comforting candle-flame. He watched it flicker and wobble, back and forth, dreamily as if from a great distnce…

And the last sound he heard was the sweet, soothing melody, crooning from what seemed like far, far away…everything faded into a mere dream, a wonderful dream…floating in swirls and bubbles of soft pink…how…beautiful…

And then something small and round hit the side of his leg. He felt himself being pulled away, sucked into a powerful hole. The soft blanket of relaxation that wrapped itself around his warm body muffled all his cares and worries as he spiraled into a dark, spherical vortex. It greedily opened its great mouth and swallowed him, absorbed him—his energy—for he was nothing but energy, swimming in a pool of darkness—swimming around and around—around and around, until the world around him faded, and all was black.