A/N: Let me start out by answering a few questions.
No, I'm not dead.
No, I haven't forgotten about my Balto story.
Yes, I will be continuing it as soon as I find my inspiration again… or I get nagged enough.
NO, this is not a self-insert fanfiction, but it is based on my original character.
Hello again everyone. This is my first Poke'mon fic and I'm hoping that you'll enjoy it. Please note that my story is currently without a beta-reader. As such, it may be a little sub-standard and I apologize for that. Anyway, you're here for a story and that's what I hope I've given you.
Disclaimer: Yeah, sure…. I own Poke'mon… Wait, you think I'm serious? Hahahahahahaha!
Chapter 1: Moving In
"Zach… Zach… Zach! Wake up!"
The sound of my mother's incessant nagging ruptured my day-dreams and brought me tumbling back into the waking world. I had been roused just in time to watch as our mini-van pulled into a gravel driveway in front of a terribly run-down house. After we rolled to a stop, my mother got out without a word and went over to a truck which bore the insignia of a poke'mon moving company to orchestrate our living arrangements. I had to hand it to her; she had become a professional at it in the past few years as we moved from city to city.
My mother motioned for me to join her next to a rather portly old man whom I had never seen before. Annoyed, I kicked the car door open, slammed it behind me and began to trudge over to the two. Once I was within ear shot, I picked up on their conversation.
"… my son, Zach." My mom had said. "Zach, this is Mr. Sanders, our new landlord."
I grunted my greeting, but the rotund man would have none of it. He clicked his tongue and shoved his hand out in front of him.
"Come now, we won't have any of that." He blurted obnoxiously. "We respect our elders, don't we lad? Put 'er there!"
Who does he think he is? I thought, irritated at the audacity of this middle-aged buffoon. I just met him and now he thinks he can lecture me on matters of respect? I shot a side-ways glance toward my mother for help, but I found none. She just glared at me and nodded towards our landlord, her eyes promised trouble if I didn't comply, so I shook his hand with a growl of displeasure.
"There we are, lad!" He exclaimed, clearly pleased with whatever boost to his monstrous ego which this little victory had awarded him. He gave my mother an approving nod and addressed me again. "Would you be a sport and go help the pokemon move your stuff in?"
Though it was more of a command than a request, I knew it was in my interest to do what he said, lest I tempt my mother's wrath. Turning on my heel and without a word, I went to see what I could do to help. The new house was old, to say the least. It was in desperate need of new coat of paint, and the windows seemed to have never been cleaned. Things can't get any worse… or could they?
Inside, Machoke and Vigoroth moved to and fro, carrying boxes and furniture around a rather ornate-looking lounge suite. I noticed one that was standing off to the side and barking what I guessed where instructions to the other poke'mon. Assuming it was in charge, I offered my aid.
"What can I do to help?" I asked non-chalantly.
Regarding me curiously for a few seconds, the lead Machoke gestured to a pile of large boxes while muttering poke'mon language. Getting to work immediately, I noticed that all the boxes that I needed to move belonged to me. I guess I can save myself some time and start unpacking while I'm at it. I thought half-heartedly. It wasn't the first time I had moved so I knew all the best ways to save time.
At least I could say one good thing about our most recent exodus: I had gotten a bigger room. The room itself was unimpressive, with creaky oak floorboards and a clouded glass window. (Whether it was stained or just coated with dust, I couldn't tell.) My bed had already been moved up and so had my desk.
I opened the nearest box and began carelessly throwing all of its contents onto my bed. It was mostly cloths so I didn't worry about breaking anything. This was until I heard a loud smash and the tinkling of glass shards on wooden floorboards. Cursing my stupidity, I picked up the wooden backing of the broken picture and turned it over. There, stuck to the other side, was one of my most valued possessions: a picture of a young me in my father's arms.
Once my parents finalized their divorce, my mother had received custody and my father had been banned from ever seeing my again. Not a day goes by that I don't miss you Dad. I thought miserably. If it weren't for mom, I could have gone with you instead.
Deciding that it would be better for me to continue unpacking, I picked up my wall-mirror and hung it near my bed. I fell back with a loud groan of bed springs and stared at my own reflection. Shoulder-length mahogany brown hair, emerald green eyes and a mediocre body build; I had always considered myself rather attractive, though my lack of any sort of romantic involvement may provide evidence to the contrary. Throwing those thoughts aside as well, I proceeded to set up my entire room in the span of an hour and a half. You never know how much you have until you have to move it all. I thought as I dropped face-first onto my bed. Tired and rather upset about the recent change of address, I shortly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
….
When I awoke the next morning, the house was suspiciously quiet. I had expected to hear my mother going about her business as she usually did in the morning, but all I could hear instead was the chirping of a few Taillow outside my window. Having nothing better to do, I slapped myself awake, showered and made my way down-stairs. Though my mother was nowhere to be seen, I did notice a small note on the kitchen counter. It was from my mother, hastily scribbled by the looks of it. With neither my name nor a greeting, it read thus:
"I'm at work and I won't be back until late tonight. You should go into town and explore a little. There is money under my mattress if you need anything. Who knows? Maybe you can even make a friend…"
I scoffed. The "exploring town" part sounded like a good idea, but the friend part… I had my doubts. I would call myself one of those guys who has a few, close friends… if I even had those. Suffice to say, I don't mix with people very well. I had never really had a good friend. The closest I had ever come to anyone was the "acquaintance" level. Why? I'm not sure. I guess part of it would have to be the fact that I'm not a big fan of people in general. I find them to be false and self-serving; only in it for their own gain. Of course this wasn't the case with everyone on the planet, but I had yet to find someone I could call "genuine".
After treating myself to a breakfast of buttered toast and a glass of Miltank millk, I set out towards town. Living on the out-skirts had its advantages, what with the tranquility and close proximity to nature, but it left a lot to be desired in the convenience-of-travel area. As I walked along the dirt path, I took in my surroundings with a practiced eye.
Little Root Town; as far as tiny little ports go, it wasn't all that bad. It seemed to be one of those "everyone knows everyone" towns, which I was grateful for since my first and favorite home lay in Fortree City, a place not unlike this. I received numerous greetings and exchanged pleasantries with a few of the residents. I visited the harbor and watched the boats come and go for a while but eventually, boredom overtook me and I headed for home. Wait, maybe I should check on mom at her new job. I thought spontaneously. Not like she would appreciate my presence, but I didn't really care. I just needed something to pass the time.
I stopped the next person that passed me and asked for directions towards the resident poke'mon professor's lab, and then I set off at a brisk pace. Judging by the shadow I cast on the gravel before me, I assumed it was somewhere in the late afternoon when I arrived at a large building with yellow roof. This must be it.
Rapping on the door with my knuckles, I waited to be received patiently. Before long, a young man in his twenties answered the door. He had curly, dark blonde hair and was wearing lab clothes with a pair of glasses framing his face. "Can I help you?" He inquired curtly.
"Professor Birch?" I asked skeptically. There's no way he could be the regional poke'mon professor, he's too young. The curly-haired man shook his head and grimaced. "If you aren't the professor, then who are you?"
"I'm the professor's nephew, Michael Caraway, but I suppose that's "Sir" to you kid." He stated proudly, as if he was better than me. Kid? I'm eighteen for Arceus's sake. "My uncle isn't in today and I doubt he would have the time to make meaningless small-talk with riff-raff like you." That stung a little. I know my clothes were a little unkempt, but yours would be too if you had to buy and maintain your clothes on your own.
"Listen Jack-ass'" I growled. "I'm not interested in seeing your uncle. I just came by to see my mom. She was offered a job here recently."
Michael placed his index finger on his chin and rolled his eyes upward in mock-thought. I growled at him, but he ignored me. "You mean the new cleaning lady?" He asked with a smirk. I winced. A cleaning lady? That's what she was? She always said that her job would be to "aid the professor". I suppose, in hindsight that that could have meant doing his dirty work… literally.
Though a cleaning lady was exactly what my mother was, it hurt knowing that she retained such a lowly position. "Yes," I spoke very slowly. "The cleaning lady."
"She's out with the professor on route one, doing a bit of field work." He said, disinterested. Without another word, I turned and set off towards route one. Before I had taken even five steps, I heard Michael mutter: "Good riddance to bad rubbish" before chuckling to himself and slamming the door. What's his problem? I thought, irritated at yet another pompous windbag who thought himself above me. Still wondering about my earlier view on humans and why I don't like them? Quod Erat Demonstrandum.
I may not have made a friend today, but I certainly have a new enemy… and that's kind of the same thing… I guess.
….
Wandering into the wilderness without some sort of self-defense was never a good idea, but I still found myself doing so for no reason whatsoever. As fate would have it, I hadn't run into a single wild poke'mon yet, so I guess luck was on my side. That is… until a few seconds later.
"HELP!" A rather feminine scream split the air and I found myself sprinting towards the source. Skidding to a halt at the top of a rather steep incline, I noticed two figures in a tree at the bottom, holding on for dear life, and with good reason. A large, grey, wolf-like canine circled the bottom of the tree, occasionally jumping up and snapping at the poor people. Sitting not far from the tree were three smaller grey canines that were all huddled together and trembling violently as they watched the scene in front of them. Whether they were more scared of the humans in the tree or the pissed Mightyena, I couldn't really tell.
"Zach! Help us now!" One of the figures yelled in apparent frustration. Mom? Gee, talk about an exciting day at work. Before I could even think of a way to help them, another more masculine voice called out.
"Zach, listen! My bag is at the bottom of the slope!" True to the figures word, a large tan bag seemed to be resting comfortably near the edge of the incline. "I have three poke'balls in there! Grab one and help us now!"
Jumping into action, I slipped down the slope. Whether by luck, precision timing or magic, I stopped right next to the bag. Shoving my hand into the nearest pocket, I felt around until I grabbed a poke'ball. I drew my hand back and yelled with gusto as I threw the red and white sphere.
"Poke'ball GO!"
If ever a theory of "the least likely thing to happen in any given situation" was created, I'd better get some credit because I doubt that anyone could have predicted what happened next.
Instead of a poke'mon being released shortly after my dramatic shout, (as was expected) the poke'ball just kept soaring straight through the air and towards a bewildered Mightyena. The smallest of the three cowering Poochyena jumped in front of its evolved form and yelped as the poke'ball struck its side with a hollow thump. The Bite poke'mon shone a brilliant red and was siphoned into its new dichromatic home without even the slightest resistance. The poke'ball fell to the floor and lay still. Yes! I caught a Poochyena! Wait… what?
Not a sound was heard for the next few minutes as all brains in the immediate area attempted to catch up with what had transpired. "Had he meant to do that?" was the question on everyone's mind. As the first to break from its improbability-induced stupor, the Mightyena immediately turned its attention to me, fangs bared and heckles raised. That was the first time I ever really felt scared in my entire life. Those powerful jaws could break bones and tear through sinew in a matter of seconds, while each saliva-coated fang was as sharp as a blade.
It stalked towards me, snarling and sniffing, as if it wanted to smell my fear before it lunged. It's funny… all those times when I had heard about stuff like this in the news or read about it in the daily paper; I thought "That guy was an idiot. Why didn't he run?" or "What a coward. I would have fought the bastard with my bare hands"? But now, as I found myself in a similar situation, I finally understood.
Adrenaline is not something you should take lightly. The "fight or flight" hormone can either make you an unstoppable killing machine or it can make your entire body freeze, leaving you with nothing to do except pray to a god you've never believed in, hoping He or She can save you. In my case, it was the latter.
The enraged Bite poke'mon was so close now that I could actually see the numerous scars that peppered its ashen fur. It just continued to circle me, snapping at my heels occasionally so I was forced to turn around and face it. As I locked eyes with my aggressor, I noticed the tiniest of smirks on its muzzle. It was messing with me, waiting to see how long it would take till I begged for mercy. Was this it? Was I really going to be killed at the paws of some flea-bitten mongrel? Yes… I guess I was.
Summoning what little strength could, I challenged: "I don't have all day! Get on with it!" That was exactly the motivation that the pissed Mightyena needed. It lunged at me in a full body Take Down attack. I tried to dodge it, but I was hit square in the chest and I fell to the ground. Dazed and winded, I tried to get up but the Mightyena was on me like a flash. I felt jagged claws rip into my calves as the poke'mon continued its assault, tearing into tendons and muscle alike.
With my legs brutalized, I couldn't run even if I tried. With its kill secured, the wolf swaggered over to my neck, its glassy yellow and red eyes staring holes into my own emerald green ones. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. If that is true, then this Mightyena must have been rotten to the core because I saw nothing but swirling, malevolent darkness in those glassy orbs.
Dizzy from blood-loss, I mind barely registered the warm, moist feeling of saliva dripping onto my neck, followed by the sharp, white-hot pain of being bitten as the Mightyena closed its jaws around my throat. As tooth pierced flesh, my vision began to blur and I struggled to breathe as I was slowly suffocated. It wasn't going to kill me. It was going to choke the very life essence out of my body. Slowly… so very slowly….
"Grovyle, use Bullet Seed!"
End Chapter 1
A/N: OK, so it's a cliffhanger. But I've always loved them so I figured that I'd give you one to enjoy. I had a hard time writing this piece, as I lost my journal when I moved houses. End result: I had to write it twice. I know for a fact that this version is not as good as my first, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. Why not tell me yourself? Yes, leave a review and tell me exactly what you thought! Your input is appreciated and valued. Who knows? You might even get yourself a shout-out in the next chapter.
Until then, this is GbtW saying… I'm back!