Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon, Game Freak and Nintendo do. (unfortunately)
Before you start reading, this fic does involve Pokémon speaking in an attempt to make them stand out as the major characters. This also takes place in the real world, and will contain real places and will be missing some things from the Pokémon universe.
If you don't like any of the things above, then this fic might not be for you. Give it a try anyways. You might be entertained...
Chapter 1: The End
The stairwell had been abandoned for a long time. A small hole was blown from the wall, giving a peephole to the derelict streets. Frost collected on the walls, making everything cold to the touch. An aged pool of blood stained the concrete beneath my tattered sneakers.
My breath echoed down the freezing stairwell. White clouds billowed from my mouth as I exhaled deeply, immediately refilling my burning lungs with fresh air. The tattered toque on my head barely kept in my short, straight black hair. My dual-coloured eyes flicked back and forth, stinging from the cold. A loud crash came from the ground level.
"He's running upstairs!" a gruff voice shouted from below. "Don't let him escape!"
I swore in my mind, having no breath to spare for words. Clearing the last stair, I burst through the fourth floor door. My body was too jacked up on adrenaline to register the impact with the metal, or after that when I crashed into the wall on the other side. The sawed-off shotgun I was holding nearly fell from my numb hand. I readjusted my grip, checking briefly to see if I was still holding my bat in my other hand, and sprinted down the hall.
My mind was buzzing as it worked out an escape route. The way behind me was blocked by the small gang that cut me off. There was another door at the end, leading to a secondary exit. I passed a split in the hall that lead to more apartments, barely registering the layout. My focus was entirely on the door ahead. I skidded to a halt as it flew open on its own accord.
At least, it seemed to. I hadn't noticed the red and white furred creature right away, the same one that opened the door from the other side. Its face twisted into a smile that held no humour.
"You're ours now," the Zangoose snarled, charging me a split second later. I wasted no time in running in the other direction, only to have the other door flung open by a large, brown beetle. The deadly pincers on its head clicked feverishly.
"You didn't think you could get away from us that easily, did yah?" he questioned, his mouth clamping sideways. I didn't bother with an answer. These Pokémon would just see it as a chance to go in for the kill.
Instead, I bolted sideways, down the hall to the other rooms. Judging from the pounding of feet from behind, my pursuers were hot on my heels. The end of the hallway ended in another door. However, the type told me it didn't lead to another stairwell, but to an apartment. I didn't have much of a choice. Not bothering to slow down, I lowered my shoulder and charged the door.
The lock snapped from the force, sending me tumbling to the ground. I panicked, now in an extremely vulnerable position. I managed to scramble onto my hands and knees, until an iron grip seized my midsection. The Pinsir lifted me up in the air, cheering.
"Gotcha!" he cried in glee. The pressure increased. My ribs protested under the strain. He sniggered as I struggled to breathe. "Now stop squirming and we'll make your death nice and painless."
I figured death by this group would be anything but nice. "Like hell I will," I choked out. My two weapons were still with me. I angled the shotgun towards my attacker, said a quick prayer and pulled the trigger. The kick of the gun nearly shattered my arm from holding it one-handed. The Pinsir, however, felt a lot more pain.
He howled and his grip slackened, releasing my from his clutches. I landed on my feet, turning around with the gun at the ready. The bug was already out of the fight. He was clutching at the stump were his legs used to be, dark green blood splattering onto the carpeted floor. My victory was short lived though.
The Zangoose barreled into my chest, knocking me onto the floor. I was able to keep a grip on my wooden bat, but the shotgun went flying to my left. The cat-like Pokémon pinned its knee to my chest, preventing me from getting up. It raised its claws for the kill.
"Will you die already?" he spat, thrusting the razor points downwards at my neck.
"Nope," I replied, knocking the blow away with my free arm. The claws missed my head, slicing through my coat instead. Pain seared from the spot from where the claws hit me and I felt the area around it dampening. The Zangoose was knocked onto his belly a few meters away.
I rolled to my feet, my opponent recovering just as fast. The bug was on the floor, screaming in pain. My eyes flicked to the shotgun in the doorway to another room. I would need it if I wanted to survive, and I really, really wanted live.
"Don't even think about it," the Zangoose warned.
Too late. I already thought about it, planned it and was about to do it. A second of hesitation later and I lunged at my primary weapon. The Pokémon was faster, kicking the gun into the room. I didn't slow down. I tackled the beast into the room with me, his claws digging into my arms and drawing more blood. I threw him into the corner, getting into a fighting position.
We eyed each other from different sides of the room, standing on opposite sides of the bed. For a few seconds, we just stared and panted. Then, the Zangoose shrieked and charged, using the bed as a platform to get higher than me. It jumped, aiming for a downwards slash. I swung the bat, smashing its hand under the red-stained wood. He fell to the floor, gripping the crippled hand.
I grinned. Maybe I wouldn't need the shotgun to win after all. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, the Zangoose decided to pounce on me. I raised the bat to defend myself. It failed, and he latched onto my chest, sinking his fangs into my right shoulder.
It was my turn to scream. The teeth punctured the multiple layers of clothing and dug into my skin. I fell backwards as my legs gave out. A sudden jolt rocked my spine, and my shoulder was relinquished from the Zangoose's jaw. I opened my eyes, seeing that I lay next to a bedside table. The jolt I felt must have been from the corner of the furniture connecting with the Pokémon's face.
The massive cat glared at me from above, removing his hand from a fresh patch of blood on his forehead. He snarled and tried pouncing on me again. I extended my leg, kicking him in the chest and onto the floor. I jumped to my feet and swung the bat at the fallen Pokémon. He ducked and the bat passed harmlessly over him. I retreated to another corner of the room.
I was trying to conceal it, but I was in a great deal of pain. My shoulder felt like it was about to fall off. My ribs ached, probably bruised or cracked from the Pinsir or the tackle. My whole body was worn out from the sprint I'd done just to get to this room, not to mention all the fighting. The Zangoose was also looking beat up and ready to pass out. Voices came from outside the apartment, sounding far off.
"Which way did they go?"
"Maybe they went upstairs?"
The Zangoose grinned, fresh energy pumping through it. "He's in here, guys!" he called out. "Come and get'im!"
My eyes grew wide. This wasn't the first time that I'd fought Pokémon by myself, only this was a different story. The pack that was chasing my earlier had about six different Pokémon. One I could normally take, two was pushing it. But three? Not by myself. I would need all my friends to take them on. We'd gotten split up during the ambush though. They might not even know I was missing yet.
"Your time is up," the Zangoose gloated. He leaped at me, determined to finish me off. I wasn't going to let that happen so easily.
"It might be," I growled, anger surging through me. I swung as hard as I could. Wood and flesh met in mid-air. The bat triumphed over bone and the Zangoose was sent flying into the wall. I raised the bat over my head. The Pokémon had a look in his eyes, silently pleading for mercy. I didn't give in, "but so is yours."
I swung the bat down, splitting his skull. Blood splattered on the walls and on my clothes. My bat was coated in a fresh layer of red. I stood there panting for a few seconds before I heard a crash in the other room.
"Where is he?" demanded a gruff male voice.
"In there," I heard the Pinsir groan, trying to fight through the pain.
I was in motion right away, slamming the door and locking it. The Pokémon outside pounded on the door, the wood splintering from the sheer force. I knew there wasn't a chance in hell it would last more than a few seconds, so I dragged a waist high dresser to barricade it. The door still shook, and I pushed against the barricade to keep it in place. A blue fist punched through the wood. It probably belonged to a Machop. If it was a Machoke who threw the punch, the door wouldn't even exist.
Something wet slid down my face. It took a moment for me to realize I was crying. I guess that came as a minor shock to me. For months I'd been trying to survive in the shattered remains of North America, being hunted by bloodthirsty Pokémon and crazy humans. I'd been placed in desperate situations, escaping death by a hairsbreadth. Only now I was alone. Without the aid of my friends, there wasn't much of a chance of me surviving the next few minutes.
A blade pierced the door. The spike of fear that ran through me diminished a fraction. The appendage was red and black, the tail blade of a Seviper, not a Scyther. I wasn't particularly fond of the mantis Pokémon, though I still wasn't too keen on fighting a giant poisonous snake either.
A small laugh escaped me. Months ago, all my knowledge of Pokémon came from games. My friends and I would speculate things about the Pokéverse, like what our starters would be or what the best type was. Never in a million years would I have thought that those speculations would become a reality.
The door shook violently, a hinge breaking off at the top and I sighed. I missed those old days, where my biggest problems were getting through English class and not being a social outcast. When buying a video game seemed important, or winning a hockey game made you feel like you were on top of the world. Most of all, I missed my family, and hanging out with my human friends. It was the small things that I missed the most.
How did I manage to survive this far? How did I, Leander Kuan Thompson, manage to live while so many others died? I was just a teen from Edmonton, with as much knowledge about surviving the apocalypse as I did of the opposite sex. I thought back to earlier times, before I had to learn how to survive. Before the line between reality and a game became non-existent.
Before the world as I knew it came to an end.