From Under the Rubble – On the Run

There is always something beautiful about destruction. When a flood sweeps away a small village, nature takes back what was stolen from it. When an earthquake strikes, the land evolves into a new form creating natural skylines. When a fire is set, and everything is burned to ashes, there are those who are given a new beginning.

Though, a fire never does look pretty when you're standing in the middle of it. I remember everything as clear as daylight; as if the memories were literally burned into an eternal scar.

It all started with a simple smell. Smoke – thick, dry fumes seeped under the door as I slept. I awoke to my own suffocation, and coughed violently under the covers until I realized what was happening. Once I did, I ran downstairs to go outside.

That was when the true fire began. Two men, my father and one in a black cloak, stood there unmoving. I was unable to see my father's face, but that man, the lower half of his face was clearly visible in the light of the fire. He seemed angry, furious even, but with a crack of his neck, that expression transformed into a vicious grin – one that predicted victory before a battle's conception.

With a swift flick of his wrist, he revealed a dark blade which was thrusted into my father's stomach. I forced myself to look elsewhere, but the fear and sadness I felt couldn't be locked away. I wound up looking towards my mother; my dead mother. The sight of her neck split in two made me sick, but the stress of the heat kept my insides where they were.

A giant crash in one of the walls followed by silence let me know that the cloaked man had probably left. I looked back to my father who was lying motionless on the ground and ran to him. I knew he was already gone, but that childish innocence I held forced me to believe that he would come back – that he wasn't really gone.

Another crash broke the through the ceiling, and the cloaked man stood in front of me. His eyes were still concealed, but his expression was readable. He looked stoic; something about him whispered pity. I hated him. I wanted to hit him, to kill him, to pay him back then and there, but I knew I was powerless. With no one to cry to, I went up and hugged his leg.

I don't know how long the two of us stood there – how long he patiently let me cry on his leg, but when the framework of the building began to crack, he picked me up and took me outside. After setting me down, he jumped back inside. Meanwhile, I was mesmerized by the hypnotic flames that consumed what was supposed to be my sanctuary. He returned to the outside and stood before me holding a rose in his hand.

This wasn't a normal rose by any means other than form. It was glass, but inside was a bounty of colors waving around like slow lightning through the clouds. I couldn't take my eyes off of it as he handed it to me. For one reason or another, touching it gave me some sort of inner peace.

I looked up to see the cloaked man, but he was nowhere in sight. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I vowed – then and there – that I would find that man again. I would do whatever it took to find him; I didn't care how long it would take. I would find him, and when I did…

I would kill him. From the ashes of that destructive fire, I was reborn.

Life is such a beautiful thing. I can't remember a single moment in which I had ever felt any true despair. I mean; sure I've been sad before, but I don't think I've been truly unhappy. I've had so many joyful memories that it's hard to pick out which one was the best.

I guess if I had to just pick one, it would probably be the first time I ever saw it. The memory is still as clear as the crystals the beast resided in. I was so young and foolish at the time, but that's what makes adventure so… adventurous.

I snuck out of the house in the darkest hour of the night, but I wouldn't call it scary or even really dark. The stars were still out, so I at least had a pretty sight while I went on my short journey to the mountains.

Anyways, I wasn't alone either, I had my best friend and partner with me, Bagon. He'd been with me ever since I was born – others would call it a natural connection. I'd call it siblinghood.

When we reached the base of the mountain it resided on, we looked to each other in excitement. All of a sudden, we heard an enormous series of thumps hitting the ground; each thumping progressively getting louder. We turned around frightened out of our bodies in anticipation for what was coming. I wasn't really scared, but I was definitely nervous.

Soon enough, a dark figure came through the trees and I ordered Bagon to prepare one of his nasty fire attacks – the little guy was so ferocious for his size. Before we could do anything, a tiny ball of dragon's breath shot through the trees and into Bagon's mouth. I cried out to him, but he toughed it out like he always does. If anything, he probably just got a little dazed from the attack.

I looked back towards the trees and into a set of glowing, yellow eyes. I guess I did feel a little scared, but it was more of a surprise than actual horror. If anything, I felt intrigued – motivated to find out what it was.

I slowly walked to the source of the dragon's breath to get a closer view of whatever it was that Bagon had sensed. That was when I heard a deep growl threaten me from within the bushes. I put my hands up in a gesture of safety. I didn't want it to feel afraid of me; I wanted it to befriend me. If it could do that, my trial would come sooner than normal.

Whatever it was seemed to remain hidden and blended in with the silence of the night. I looked around me to ensure I was alone, and held a single hand out to the beast. I focused my senses into the palm of my hand until a single, blue flame emanated from my skin.

I stood there nervous from displaying my secret out in front of the world for about a couple minutes until the leaves began to rustle. Out from the bushes came the largest dragon I had seen up to that point. The landshark dragon: Garchomp.

Life is good.

Destruction is… just as it sounds: ugly, horrid, and the worst occurrence imaginable. I abhor those that glorify or legitimize its outcome. There was a time when I looked at destruction as a means to an end; it was justified as long as I was the one to do it.

However, the moment I realized that destruction couldn't solve anything, was the moment I had gone too far – when everything was too late. Regardless of how many nightmares replayed that scene on the dawn of that morning, the memory remains fuzzy.

That dream, or nightmare, always begins with me staring into her beautiful eyes. I always forget why she starts out in front of me, but when I see her stomach begin to turn red, I remember why. She took a bullet for me. Some guy wanted to take a cheap shot, and she took it for me. Or… did I place her in front of me?

It was always her eyes that I noticed; never was it her mouth. I could never know whether she was smiling protectively, or scared out of her wits; however, her eyes always dropped a single tear before she fell to the bullet that was meant for me.

Everything afterward was… red… or blue… it changes all the time. What remained the same afterwards was a conglomerate of blood and sky. Then I wake up once again – as if I traveled through time.

Ever since then, I've been running from my past, moving from place to place in hopes that I could one day start a new life. However, with the corporeal shadows that follow me from those days, it's nearly impossible to stay put. They've only caused me pain. They've only caused me despair. Those monsters – those demons – never leave my mind. After those days, I have put my heart and soul into eradicating their very existence.

They call me crazy; they call me mad! I try to help them by warning them of their existence.

Everything is futile; citizens never believe something that is cause for widespread panic. They want to feel secure; they want to feel safe. Most of all, they want to continue living with ignorance of death. If I wasn't so opposed to taking an innocent life anymore, I might have shown them the reality of that occurrence myself.

Everyone deserves a little bit of ignorance – even me. As of now, I live my life in accordance to my own creed. I live by the hair on my neck to ensure those demons meet their end. I promised that I would see through it – I promised her I would; for it was my mistake. Even if it meant I had to kill again just to get some answers, I would eliminate them.

As backwards as it is, if I refrained from taking the life of an innocent, I became justified in my mission.

I often looked back to my past for answers, but I was always met by the nightmare of destructive night.

Do you ever have that feeling where you know something is going on behind your back, but everyone acts as normal as they can? I know it's a thing adults do around children, but why do they treat me the same?

As long as I can remember, my mom has always acted strangely around me – especially around the time of my birthday. She tries to hide it, but I can see it as clear as day. I tried talking to my friends about it, but they're no help… correction: I talked to an acquaintance I know, and she told me to go away.

I guess life isn't all sunflora and Ho-oh's. I was always weird; I was always the odd-one-out. I was the kid that everyone knew, but didn't know. I've tried making friends, but I seem to push people away more than attract them. I tried standing out once – I learned that running into a burning building to save a jolteon does more harm than good. Yet, when Rodney down the street helps an old lady with her groceries, he becomes the fucking hero of the city.

Sorry, I'm not even speaking Indigo anymore.

Besides any of that, not even my own mother – the one parent that raised me – can help me out with anything. She's always paying attention to the news and looking out for one of her old friends. That's what I can understand after catching her slip on her act a few times.

One day, I finally had enough and asked her where my dad went. The last word I heard her say was 'Johto' before I packed my things and ran away. Why? Because I had enough of that shitty excuse of a life I was living. I guess I wanted to see the world, or maybe go on an adventure.

More importantly, I do want to find out who my father is. I think he's the only one that can explain why my life is the way it is; why my mom acts how she does; why I'm so different from the others. I want to know why I'm able to do things that make people wary of me.

Because what's the point in living a life if you can't understand just where you fit inside of it?

"That's an interestin' story ya got there," the old bartender said. Across the bar was a young girl that looked the age of a teenager. Long, black hair, tan skin, slim figure with appropriate curves, and gray-green eyes that screamed dull.

"Well, it's the one that I hope gives me the resource I need," she spoke firmly as she looked into the bartender's brown eyes. He was middle-aged and rough around the edges. A lengthy beard exploded from his chin and, repulsively, dipped into the glass he had been cleaning for the past thirty minutes. His skin was fair and his dialect suggested he was of strong Johto descent.

"What makes ya think I have what ya want?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. The girl thought about her options. She could try to be upfront with the bartender and reveal what she knows about its particular reputation, but, knowing that, she probably wouldn't make it out of the bar that night. She could also try to charm her way to getting an answer out of him. He did look like he had been deprived of release for a while. However, given that she had never attempted such a feat before, it probably wouldn't work out in her favor. Her last option was to reveal what she was. It was a risk that could either get her what she wanted or get her arrested on sight.

She took a deep breath and took a seat on the bar leaning back with her smooth legs crossed for the bartender to get a nice view of her figure. With a cute tone, she said, "Isn't there anything you could do for a young lady like me? Someone you know that could help me out? I might repay you sufficiently." She winked at the end and bit her lip with sultry embarrassment.

"I'm 43," the bartender spoke unamused.

"What's that have to do with anything," the young girl laughed while the older gentlemen sighed.

"Look here lil' lady-"

"Little?!" she interrupted, "I'm twenty-four you sick-minded bastard!" Her announcement successfully cleared the bar room of all conversation, and blood flowed through her cheeks making her hotter from embarrassment than she already was. Unable to take such a scene, she squealed an apology and hopped off the bar.

"Twenty-four? There's no way yer that old miss…" the bartender trailed off waiting for her name.

"Aster," she whispered, still feeling the attention of the room on her. The bartender waved at everyone to signal that everything was alright. Meanwhile, Aster resorted to her final option.

"Anyways, there's nothin' I could do for ya unless-" he stopped speaking when he saw the small blue flame flickering from her palm. It wasn't large, but it stole his attention. He knew what that meant. Anyone in their right mind would know what that meant: she was a guardian.

It didn't matter whether they were powerful or not, or even if they were a child; a guardian was dangerous, and to be arrested upon positive identification.

The bartender gulped and looked into her eyes. They had a slight blue hue to them now – something that could easily be overlooked. He slowly reached underneath the bar – concealing his movement by leaning in closer to her – and placed his finger on a small button.

Aster looked hopeful until she read his expression all too clearly.

"Please forgive me," he whispered before pressing the button. A loud bell sounded off in the bar and everyone inside exited in a frantic fashion. Only Aster and the bartender were left inside.

"Shit," Aster squealed before running outside clutching a small, wooden sphere she unclipped from her belt.

Aster ignored the pain and strain on her legs that carried her this far as she continued her escape. She could hear the sirens in the distance and it was only a matter of time before they figured out which direction she went.

She turned to a small trail through the woods in hopes that she would at least conceal herself from the police. However, regardless of how far went, the sound of the sirens remained at the same volume. She brought the ball to her mouth and whispered, "I'm sorry but I might need you to fight today."

She heard the barks of several growlithe and the lone, powerful howl of an arcanine. With that, she gained a newfound motivation to run faster. However, the pain caught up to her and she began slowing down involuntarily.

The barks and howls became louder as they closed in, but they were still a good distance away. After making it over a hill, her eyes glued to the scene of an abandoned cabin in the woods. A smile crept on her face as she made her way to the building.

"Thank you Arceus," she said. As Aster went to open the door, she felt something strange occurring within herself – her head to be exact. She thought of it as nonsense and proceeded to open the door which, surprisingly, turned out to be locked. A look of panic swept across her face as she realized the situation she was in.

Aster had to go in without leaving a visible trail. It was a piece of cake to conceal herself from the powerful nose of an arcanine, but to leave a visible trail from breaking into a cabin was a liability. She knocked on the door furiously hoping that someone would come and answer.

"Come on, let me in!" she pleaded. Finally, the lock on the door unhatched and it swung open slowly to reveal a small, purple feline sitting down pompously. The three distinguishing features that identified its species, aside from its color, were the twin tails, its large, pointed ears, and the small ruby embedded on its forehead.

Aster thanked it silently as she attempted to step through – only to be halted by an invisible barrier made of the espeon's psychic energy. She put her hands on the barrier and pounded it several times.

"No, please let me in!" she pleaded repeatedly.

"Why should I?" a voice resonated within her mind, presumably the espeon. It was haunting – like a cheerful child's voice in a dark room.

"Please, can you just help out a human?" Aster cried out, shaking from the increasing volume of the Arcanine.

"My dad says humans are evil," the espeon communicated warily.

"What about a guardian?" Aster asked with her last drop of hope. She looked into the glossy eyes of the psychic feline who looked back with close observation. Its ears twitched to the sound off the growlithes' barks and it released the barrier.

"Okay, come in," it said with more innocence than before. Aster quickly walked inside and shut the door, locking it as best as she could. She breathed a sigh of relief and put the wooden ball to her lips saying, "It looks I might not bring you out after all. I promise one of these days you can be free."

"So you're a guardian too?!" the espeon asked excitedly to Aster's shock.

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter. You got food?" she asked as she began searching the cabin's interior. The childish feline followed her around constantly.

"My dad says not to give food to strangers," it said while pounding a forepaw on the floorboard. Seeing this, Aster giggled and bent down to pet its head.

"Aren't you the cutest little kitty around? Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl?" she cooed as her hand moved over to the espeon's stomach – something it liked very much. Before scratching became intoxicating, it used its psychic ability to push her hand away and return to its feet.

"I am not a girl, I'm not a dog, and I'm not cute!" it announced, "I am a man! I am a proud Espeon!"

Aster could feel the wooden sphere on her belt shake in would she interpreted as laughter. She followed suit in her own hilarious fit that brought her down to her knees.

The espeon, however, found her actions insulting to say the least. In a fit of minor rage, he focused a little bit of psychic power on the counter in the middle of the kitchen and crushed its entire mass to the size of a basketball in one large snap.

Aster leaped up from the sound and began shaking. She had known espeons were users of ESP, but reducing an entire countertop to a ball said something about its experience.

"You see? I'm not cute," he once again announced pounding his forepaw on the floor. Aster gave a nervous laugh and put her hands up in front of her.

"Alright, I won't misjudge you. You seem to be really powerful," she spoke shakily. When she received no response, she slowly clapped to get the espeon to feel at ease around her.

The feline smiled and raised its head high like a noble walking past its subjects. "Thank you! Thank you! It's not really any trouble for me," he said proudly. Aster was now confused – more than she had ever been around a pokemon – on whether she should respect the espeon or coddle it. "By the way," he said, "What's your name?" he asked while taking a seat with his tail waving back and forth.

"A-Aster," she said hesitantly, "Aster Miyamoto. Yours?" Her hand slowly went to the ball clipped to her belt.

"My dad tells me I shouldn't give my name to strangers," he said blankly. A small vein made itself visible on Aster's forehead after hearing the espeon's reason.

"It's rude to ask for one's name without giving your own," she reasoned with her brow twitching.

"My dad thinks its dumb to blindly give your name away."

"But I gave you my name when you asked for it!"

"I know, and now you're dumb."

"What?! If anyone's the dumb one around here, it's you!"

"Nuh-uh! You're the dumb one!"

"No, you're dumb!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not! Dummy!"

"Idiot!"

"Fool!"

"Ass!"

"Meanie!"

"BITCH!"

"CUNT!"

"YOU MO- what?" Aster asked, for she was not familiar with the word the purple feline had just spat out of its mind.

Before the two could continue any further, a masculine voice shouted from within one of the rooms, "What the bloody hell is GOING ON OUT THERE!"

Both human and pokemon jumped at the shout and began shaking, the feline more than the girl.

"Oh no, dad told me not to use words like that," he said.

"Is that your dad?" Aster whispered to which a nod was given in response.

Two doors busted open. One was the front door which Aster came through. The other was a door on the other side of the human and pokemon. Two Police and a growlithe walked through the front door with their side arms aimed and ready. What came from the other door, was something as unique and terrifying as a bird giving life to three dogs.