Prologue
Where is this?
The bright light expands around me as I open my eyes – and, boy, it's a really bright light, too. It's right there in my face, blinding me. I turn my head away from it and stare to the side, only to realise I am in a small room. The walls are coated in a refreshing light yellow colour, making for a more relaxing setting. I look down and notice I'm lying down somewhere. A bed? How did I get here?
I try to get up, but something holds me back and I collapse back onto the soft surface. I feel the burst of pain in my gut as I fall and I moan, bringing attention to myself, but I simply cannot help it.
"Oh!" cries a voice, before a woman in a white and pink gown comes to assist me. A Nurse Joy. She strokes me gently on the neck. "Shhh...it's OK. You're going to be OK."
Wait a minute! I'm in the hospital? My heart starts beating twice as fast and suddenly I remember what happened. I must have started to panic when I figured out where I was, because the Nurse Joy is now trying to flatten my body back down again, calming me with her soft voice.
"I can't be here," I refuse to believe, my head laying on the pillow obediently, although I can feel myself panting hard while my body rises and falls quickly from my hastened breaths. A Chansey by my bedside attempts to assist her master in getting me to relax.
"You are here," she corrects, pulling a blanket back over me. "But it's OK; you're going to be fine. My human is good at her work. She will make you feel better."
Don't you just hate it when doctors always say you're going to be 'OK'? You could be half-dead for all you know, your heart nearly about to shut down but what do you know of that? I'm going to be OK. Of course I'm going to be OK. It feels like I'm bleeding to death from the inside out – yeah, I'm perfectly fine here. Just peachy.
"What Town is this?" I inquire, attempting to lift my head again. For some reason, my thoughts are mangled and my perception is distorted. From falling unconscious? Possibly. But I have no idea where I am – I know I was on my way to find Palkia, the great beast that would be able to help me escape from this nightmare of reality and bring me back, back home...but what of that? Where was I before then? My head aches as I strain to remember the details: Was I attacked? Yes, I was attacked...but by whom, or what? And where, exactly?
"It's OK, calm down." the Chansey again assures, pushing my head down gently to lay it back onto that stupid, fluffy pillow. I don't want that pillow now. I don't want to rest; I want answers. Somehow, the pillow, the Arceus-forsaken (did I just say Arceus-forsaken?) pillow reels me in to its comforting, extra firm plush. As my head hits it for the second time, I can actually feel my eyes slightly closing from the warm, familiar impact. A bed...how long has it been since I lay in a bed, wrapped up in a blanket with my head to a pillow? Why, it was back in my own world, when I was a...
"She took a strong blow to her lower stomach." comes the nurses's voice. She's speaking quietly, whispering almost, as if she thinks I cannot hear what she was saying – as if, as a pokemon, I cannot comprehend such a language as complex as English. But she doesn't know. Even though I haven't always been a pokemon, I've been one long enough to understand that we're not entirely dumb. We can understand the commands the humans throw at us – why should they come to the conclusion that we cannot understand speech? Boulder dash, I say!
Oh, great. Now I think I've totally accepted my pokemon-ness in full. I was afraid this would happen, from the very beginning I was afraid – and now it's happening. In fact, I forget so much about being a human that lying here in this bed, much like the bed of a human's oddly familiarises me with my past life....my real life, and it comforts me. My real life...you know, the one where pokemon didn't even exist, except in video games?
"Who's pokemon even is it?" starts another voice from the outside (of the examining room, that is) and I register that they're still talking about me – me, the pokemon. Ha.
"We're not sure," the Nurse replies honestly. "A young trainer came in with her just this morning – said he found her lying on the ground in an unconscious state, covered in scratches and bruises and bleeding from her underbelly. She's been here all day, but so far no one has come up to claim her. We think she may be a wild pokemon, but when she heals a bit more, we can try the PokeBall Test to see for sure."
The PokeBall Test. I roll my eyes. They're going to try tossing one of those demeaning white and red orbs at me. Of course, the test will prove that I'm not a wild pokemon as they thought and with that, they aren't going to release me until someone steps up to claim me. Wonderful. At this rate, I'll never be able to resume my mission...I'll never find Palkia...I'll never get home.
And yet, somehow...
My heart feels like it's stretched in half. I want to become a human again, me again. That's how it's always been. Getting out of here is my priority, and the quicker I get out, the better. Or is it?
I feel myself thinking back to Tim. Tim. The one who trained me. The one who had made it possible for me to get this far. The one who loved me and cared for me and took me under his wing when I especially needed it, back when I came into this world. My trainer. My master. My friend.
I want to leave, but I know my Tim is out there somewhere. He's out there looking for me I bet, because I know how much he cares. He's not like some of those other trainers who greedily use their pokemon as tools to collect those bad-excuse, good-for-nothing plastic badges. He cares, he really cares, and I would hate to pain him to leave this world forever. But I must...I have to get out of here; I do not belong here. I want more than ever to have my life back, but I miss Tim. It's been a while since I've seen him. I wonder how he's doing.
The door opens and in comes that Nurse Joy again, followed by a few others – maybe four...no, five of them, and when I turn my head to look, I can see that they're all real-deal doctors, with their long, white coats...robes, really. My head feels too weak to look directly into any of the faces, but I can tell they are doctors by the way they talk in their low voices and how their white robes are covered in many pockets filled with a lot of nasty tools that such medical people carry around.
"So, this is the one, eh? Wow, you're right – I don't think that pokemon is native to Sinnoh. I wonder how it got all the way here?"
"With its stomach torn open like that, too. How long has it been that way?"
The Nurse Joy's voice, distinguishable amongst the rest, comes back at them with an honest answer. "I haven't examined her too closely," she replies. "But the wound still looks fresh. I don't think she injured herself too long ago – at least, not long enough for infection to spread. You should be able to go through with the procedure and stitch her up, good as new. I think we're lucky that nice boy found her when he did."
How smart she is! How stunningly wise! Yeah, go to the Nurse to get all your answers...after all, despite the fact that I'm the one laying here on the examining table, she's the one who has a say in what's gonna happen. You know, if only humans could understand pokemon the way pokemon can understand humans, everything would be so much easier. Can't they see that all I want right now is to get out of here? This is the last place I want to be – can't they see that? Have I not made my point clear?
Of course not. I'm a pokemon – silly me. I can just imagine how pathetic I look right now, spread out across the table like animal roadkill in the middle of the street, guts bleeding out in a large red and black puddle for the selfish maggots to feast upon. I don't know how bad my injury is (apparently, it's still fresh – thanks for pointing that out, Nurse Joy!) but getting myself stitched myself up is really unnecessary at this point. I've seriously come close to finding Palkia, I can feel it – and just as long as I can get out and find the space monster, I should be returned safely back to my own body and nothing that has happened to me as a pokemon will even matter. If I could explain that to the doctors, perhaps they wouldn't be so inclined to waste their time patching up somebody that will cease to exist in this world when they could be using that time to help the other pokemon that need and probably want their help.
But no. The victim doesn't get a say. She can't explain herself, can she?!
"My word!" a male doctor exclaims, his gloved hand gently brushing against my face and down my neck. "Look at all those scratches! What have you gotten yourself into out there?"
"Heh," I reply, though my voice per usual falls deaf on human ears. "You couldn't even begin to imagine what I've been through since I've been here."
"You're lucky we got you in when we did!" another doctor, female, adds in. "Don't worry, we'll fix you up and you'll be back on your feet in no time."
"Yeah, yeah. I know," I sigh. "I've already been told I'm going to be OK a million times. No need to bring it up again."
"Nothing seems to be wrong with her throat." Nurse Joy laughs, after hearing me speak (which to them, sounds like me saying my name over and over and over again, of course – degrading). "I think she's letting us know she's ready for her surgery." Then, to me: "It's all right, sweetie. We'll get started right away and when you wake up, you'll feel good and better again, OK?"
Surgery?!?!
That's it: I need to get out of here ASAP. I never agreed to this and I need to let those crazy doctors know it. I don't have time for this!
Despite the fact that my legs are as tired as ever and my stomach is pretty much burning, I hoist myself up off the bed and prepare to make a run for the door, opened but a wee crack for my convenience. Unfortunately, whilst getting up, I find in dismay that something seems to be chaining me down and keeping me from making my escape. I struggle, shaking my body this way and that to free myself. One of the doctors yells and makes a dive for something I've tripped over (Was that my IV? Oops). Several others gang up on me like a pack of wolves, each taking me by an arm or a leg and forcing me back down.
"Shhhh! It's OK! Settle down, it's OK, it's OK..." a female promises as she pins me down by the throat – she's trying to sound soothing or coaxing by the way she speaks ever so softly, but she can't fool me. I know what they're up to, and I'm not going to let it happen. I continue to fight the many human hands that suppress me, even reaching down to bite at one if necessary (hey, my teeth might not be that sharp, but at least it would distract them for a couple seconds long enough for me to make a get away).
"This here's a wild one!" exclaims another doctor, the same one who had checked my face earlier. "I don't think we can hold it down much longer!"
"The anesthetic! Administer the anesthetic!"
Get me the hell out of here! Nothing about me matters...can't you see? I'm not supposed to be a pokemon! I don't need surgery! Don't you doctors ever listen?! Hey, I'm talking to you - !
Pain. It sticks into my neck through a needle, allowing the poisonous toxins of human medical care to disperse freely into my bloodstream and take control of my entire body. I can feel it go through me, numbing me and paralysing me from my head down to my toes until I find I can't struggle any longer – it's impossible! I melt into a puddle such as a Popsicle having sat out in the sun, and I just keep melting...melting...melting.
That psycho woman – she drugged me! That insane, neurotic lady of a doctor drugged me!
But somehow, that doesn't even matter anymore. As my limbs are going limp, I can barely remember where I am at all. The colours around me blur into a magnificent mixture of white and yellow, almost cream, in a smooth texture that resembles much of a waterfall, different cans of paint spilling out and pouring down over a large canvas of which I am the lucky viewer. Such a painting is a work of art that I could stare at for hours, that simple blur of bright, sunny colours. But what's this? I can smell something pleasant, too – flowers, maybe a garden roses or chrysanthemums, or was that the stench of fresh fruit? Strawberries, yes, many strawberries, all fresh and ready to be eaten. That smell overtakes me and it's everywhere, in so many places that I have no choice but to inhale the fragrance. But who wouldn't want to? So delicious, so luscious, so...so...
Curse that woman! Curse her! And yet what she's done to me is too beautiful to resist. What little of my body that I can still feel collapses completely, and the voices around me all become one, just one doctor, not five and a nurse. I want to stay awake, to find a way out, but it just feels so much better to let myself go, afloat in such a wonderful world where misery no longer exists – I'm a pokemon, but I'm OK with it. My guts may be spilling out, but I cannot feel them anymore, so who cares?
I become aware of myself slipping from my consciousness and suddenly a small sense of panic washes over me; what am I doing? I'm letting myself fall for the evil, horrible anesthetic, and now...what if I never wake up? I certainly won't be a pokemon anymore, but I won't be a human either, because I'll be...
I want to stay awake, to keep the Grim Reaper from greedily snatching at this body, the one that isn't even mine...but I'm too tired to keep watch. My eyelids suddenly feel like heavy stones, that of which I no longer have the strength to life up, and before I know it, my entire blurred world of yellow and white, roses and chrysanthemums, strawberries and melting Popsicle seem to blend in together before being met by a dark sense of nothingness where I no longer feel alive but very much dead, unable to control the still body of which I have been so unfortunate to be trapped and concealed within.
If I ever make it out of this alive, I swear, guts or no guts, I'm going to get away from here, so far away that not even some kind of fancy chip you may insert into my brains will be able to track me. And when I get away, as far as possible, I will find Palkia. Mark my words, I will find him...her...it. And when I do, I'll be out of this nightmare of a world, back to my own reality, a place where you'll never be able to get to no matter how hard you look.
And all the while, I will be looking back and laughing my donkey off at this whole thing, how you stupid humans took me captive and shoved a strawberry-filled needle into my veins, mistaking me for a creature lower than yourself – when in actuality, I was smarter than the whole lot of you. Ha...yeah, I'll laugh at that. You poorly trained doctors, not even being able to tell a pokemon from a human.
When that day comes, I swear, I'm never going to so easily take my life for granted again, that luxurious life of being able to be heard, understood and treated as one of my own kind again.
If that day ever comes.
...
A/N: Well, it's been a while since I've written anything fanfiction lately but I've been working on this one for a while, wondering whether or not I should post it, since readers of my other fics that haven't been updated in a year may not be completely happy with me for working on new material. x3 Finally, after debating it a bit, I came to somewhat of a consensus.
Anyway, even though it's that crazy time at the end of the year again where I most likely won't have a lot of time to write fanfiction, I decided I may as well start with the prologue just to get it out there (once I post this baby, I'll have no choice but to update), and since I've started writing Chapter One before deciding to make a prologue, that said chapter will be here more likely sooner than later.
Since there most possibly won't be many author notes on this 'fic in the future, and seeing as the summary was vague, here's the details with this story, project, whatchamacallit: I've decided to try to branch out my writing with a new challenge, writing in both first person and present tense, two things in which I feel I need to improve on a bit. Yay, for challenges. oO I haven't written much of anything fiction-related at all for a good while aside from a couple roleplays, so the work of this story, especially in the beginning may be a bit iffy...feel free to chuck out your lovely words of wisdom and the marvelous kind of criticism that tells me what I should improve on. I'd rather not accept flaming but, you know, if you really want to, go ahead. :)
To end, I hope any readers who I may snag the attention of are willing to be a bit patient with me (especially those from my older 'fics!) and enjoy any work of me to come...this story especially, as I look forward to engaging in it.
Toodleoo! xD
- Wolfy, Gardie, Rocket Wolf (AKA: the writer of many names)