Let my heart be at ease, revising my past tales. Erravi in Cadere.

A/N: My philosophy on writing and on life has been drastically altered within the past years. I will not post as often as I used to, because I want to have more respect for my works. To all those disappointed by the lapse in time, my apologies. Names, settings and ideas will be altered.

Good Hearts: Chapter 1.

"I beg of you! Please! No more pain, Master!" a shrill, feminine voice cried out, imploring mercy. "Failure in battles is not acceptable, you bitch!" replied another voice, a more masculine one that held a stoic tone. A fist soon found its way to her stomach, impaling the female with an excessive amount of force. "Please! Stop!" cried she. "You are nothing but a worthless sack of dirt! I shall do with you as I please!" was a reply.

A young man was strolling down a dirt path coincidentally, with life upon his mind. He tossed a small rock into the air and stared at the pathway in front of him, a long repressed sigh escaping his mouth. His parents had met their unfortunate end recently. The scene played on over and over within his mind, so the memory could not be misplaced.

"Come here lad!" cried his father, as he and his mother sat upon a grassy hilltop, a bright smile upon their faces. He had always felt so comforted by the sight of them, encouraged this time by his mothers especially delicious sandwiches. Charging with haste, he quickly dove for the food, scarfing one of them down almost instantly.

"Alright then, let us get back to brawling, eh?" spoke he, whom eagerly stood back up to face his father. A chuckle and advice was his reply, "Very well. A basic key to advancing yourself is to keep a steady, balanced stance and be ready to defend yourself to counter. Being the first to strike is never a good idea, as the assailant has a slight advantage over you."

On those words, the father took his own stance and slowly made his way over to his son, throwing a slower punch at his shoulder, which was side stepped and retorted with an elbow to the mid-chest. Backing off quickly, the father gave a light cough. "Getting better at it, I see?" he spoke with a bit of pride in his voice.

Sitting down next to his wife, the father spoke, "I'm losing pace to you it seems!" The mother scolded them lightly, "Now, now. Don't you think its a little wrong—teaching our son to fight dear?" A simple shake of the head and a laugh was the formal response.

The ground begun to shake, with a rhythmic thumping slamming itself upon the ground. A stampede, it was. The last sight that could penetrate through their eyes was the heel of a small horde of Rhydon, appearing to flee from something. The impact ended their lives, all to the shock of their son, only a few meters away.

"Curse this life. The dread of loneliness has plagued me evermore since my parents had passed. Arceus, hear me. Listen to my cry to follow your creed." spoke he. The setting sun, with the woodland path created a sense of a ominous ambiance, almost as if someone were watching him, staring at his motions with deep intent.

Suddenly, a shrill cry echoed throughout the woods. It quickly caught his attention, snapping him out of his daze and into reality once more. "What was that..." he whispered to himself, turning. It was off the trail, from what he could tell. The sky's last grains of luminescence shone its light through, to where he could make out two faint figures.

His body seemed to creep itself towards the sound. He knew not why, why he pressed on into the dark, slowly making his way, crept down like a pre-hominid for matters of secrecy. Approaching, he could make out two distinct voices. All that separated them now was a single, lightly leafed bush that let him peer through.

"Please master! I beg of you, i'll do anything if you just stop!" a feminine voice exclaimed with a cough following. From what was seen, it appeared to be a Lucario, a scarred and bruised one at that. Blood seemed to be oozing from her snout and mouth, a cut could be seen on her mid-chest and her body seemed to be covered by a darkening aura.

There was another there—a human, very angry at that. He spat on her face and then threw a pokeball onto the ground. "You're not even worth my time." spoke he, putting one end of his filthy black boot onto the ball, crushing it under his weight. Pinching his temple, the man sighed in anger once—afterwords crying out in frustration and hatred as he delivered a devastating kick to the side of her head, knocking her over.

"Heartless son of a..."

Raising his foot to the side of the Lucario's head, the man pulled out a knife from his pocket, placing the blade upon her throat. He was ready to end a life, to take a conscious from existence. This angered the one who was spying, who then stepped out against his will, exclaiming, "Hey bastard, why don't you pick on someone your own stature?"

A pause in the atmosphere. Neither the spy, the assailant nor the victim moved for several moments. A sudden laughter immersed itself from the assailant's throat as he stood up, turning his attention to the invasion of his world. "...And who are you supposed to be, kid?" he poked, his shattering blue eyes intensifying their rage.

"I shouldn't grant you the pleasantry, but you may call me George. I ask the same of this one, who wants to perish himself." spoke the spy. "It seems that we've got a funny guy here, don't we? The name's Butch, and you've messed with the wrong guy." the assailant spoke, his knife in hand.

Butch decided to take his luck to strike first, charging at him and swinging his knife wildly. George countered by ducking, a light scrape coming to his neck, and flinging his leg towards the assailant's shin, using his momentum as an advantage.

This sent him lumbering towards the ground, upon which George stepped on his back and kicked the hand with the knife in it, disarming the man. "Stay down, if you know what's good for you." he spoke, a cold, stoic voice initiating itself. Butch cursed, trying to push up to no avail.

All of a sudden, two people stepped from the woods, all dressed in Ranger uniforms. "What happened here?" one of them questioned. "I don't know all of the details, but when I had arrived here, this guy was about to murder his Pokemon. I told him to stop, and he assaulted me." was George's reply, a swift one at that.

A grunt came from Butch, smearing insults out into the open. "Well... There aren't any charges for anything that happens to Pokemon, but he did attack you. Very well." the other park ranger spoke, bringing up handcuffs and tossing him up.

"Where is the Pokemon now?" asked the former ranger, looking around to find a bloodied, unconscious Lucario not too far away. "Ah. Citizen, will you bring her to a center and care for her wounds? Criminals are relinquished of their Pokemon, and I do wish to see her treated properly at the least. We shall contact you there for future details regarding this crime and validity." added she. "I shall do as you ask." George promptly responded, bowing lightly as they walked away, with Butch and his knife.

Sighing gently, he put one sleeve of his jacket against his neck, to soak up the blood that was exerted. Turning his attention to the poor creature that was lying there, he walked to her side, bending down and looking at the damage. She looked severely pained, but she was breathing. Removing his black jacket from his person, George then set it atop of the Lucario, as he picked her body up.

The long march through the woods and back into town begun at night, the various Pokemon creeping around and staring. He marched like a soldier with a duty—with vigilance and haste, for a life may be at stake. He carried no potions, as he was not a trainer nor breeder.

Lights of the town pierced their way, signaling his path. The darkness of the night shielded him from the barrage of people that would be around during the day as he carried her to the closest center. As he walked in, he noted the lack of anyone in there. Towards the desk, there was a door bell that he could ring to gain the attention of the staff—wherever they were.

Strolling up to it, he slammed his hand down on it with force. "Hey! We need help, really bad here!" George exclaimed, ringing it several times over. A tired nurse rounded the corner, rubbing her eyes with her thick, pink hair messed up from the late night shift she was not prepared for. As soon as her eyes were opened again, she let out a shriek of horror to see the problem, yelling, "Chansey! Emergency, now!"

A large, plump and pink pokemon with an egg in its pouch rounded the corner with a bed that was elevated and on wheels. Setting the Lucario down on it, he left the jacket on her for decency's sake, watching as she was rushed to the back and was dealt with.

A sigh came once more from him as he walked over to the nearest lobby chair, sitting back in it and then begun to stare at the ceiling. "Your wish will now permeate your life. Enjoy it." spoke a voice in the back of his head. He paused.

…

..

…

"...I see then..." he spoke to himself, a smile beaming on his face of both relief and happiness.