(A/N This story's a bit - well - dark. I dunno. I'm wearing a black Pokemon t shirt, what more do you expect?

Disclaimer: I don't own Kabutops, Kabuto, Omanyte, Omastar, Goldeen, or Seaking. If I could own any Pokemon, though, it would be Squirtle. Sorry, guys, but Squirtle is kinda badass. ANYWAYS...)

Cold. Dark. Hungry.

I'm slowly dragging on, but I'm so hungry. I can feel the energy draining out of me.

I'm wandering.

I know I'm the last one left. I'm sure of it. I've been searching the waters for six years, unable to find another Kabutops, or even a young Kabuto. Everyone is just…

...gone.

I'm thinking back, so many years it's been, since I've last been in this reef. I remember all my friends, my family, smiling down at me, promising to never let me go.

They lied.

I remember running into Omanyte, right after the famine. I shudder, recalling the gruesome deaths of al those who had once comforted me. My family. My friends. Dead.

Omanyte, I remember, who was wandering as well. He, too, spun a story of grief, of sorrow, of hunger. We each had been aft to fend for ourselves, as young children. We had carried the hopes of each of our races on our backs. We swore to find mates, to revive our respective species, before it was completely lost.

We failed.

Not long after our vows, we caught a Seaking. Together. We evolved that day. Together. And we feasted. Together.

But soon after that feast, Omanyte - OmaSTAR - slowed down. No longer could we speed up to a Seaking, our main source of food. We had to depend on Goldeen, the slower, less edible cousin of the Seaking. One night, Omastar complained of a stomach ache and fever. I dismissed it, saying that he was just hungry, and that he should toughen up. I've never regretted anything more. The next morning, when I awoke, I called to my friend.

He didn't wake up. He never did.

I grieved, longer than I should have. It has been three years since the once proud Omastars died out. Three years since my friend died out. And now I wander.

Occasionally, I spot a Seaking who is afraid. These individuals have listened to their grandparent's stories, of the mighty Kabutops, slashing forward, dark as night. But no more. The Seaking became faster. Ours and the Omastar's heavy shells were no match for the fish's fins. We could no longer catch them.

Now, I don't even try. I used to, overestimating my remaining strength, thinking I could catch one. Sometimes, I did.

But not nearly enough.

And now, I wait.

I'm still hopeful that maybe someday, I'll meet more Kabutops, faster and stronger than I. All I need is to know that our legacy will continue without me.

I see a Seaking. He is slow. I may be able to eat today. But…. what's the point? I haven't caught a Seaking in months. I doubt I can do it now. I'm too tired. Maybe I'll sleep. Yes, a nice nap may be enough to clear my thoughts. I lay in the soft sand, watching seagrass sway in the current.

As sleep begins to swallow me, I hear a whisper in my head.

You have failed...

But I haven't, I think back. No. I don't know when, or how, but someday, the Kabutops will return. This isn't the last you've seen of us…

I shut my eyes. I have a feeling that they won't be opening again any time soon.