The Winds of Time

By Dusktrail

Cover art by: Mister Grenade

Chapter 1

The Discarded

The ancient creature stood upon the mountain's peak, its large, white body a stark contrast to the slate-grey rock around it. A gust of wind washed over its body, curling turbulently through the golden protrusions that ringed the midsection of its quadrupedal form. It closed its eyes in contemplation, letting its senses take in the essence of the world around it. It felt the currents of life flowing across the landscape in myriad threads of color and light. It felt the air rushing through the vault of the sky, stretching up until it faded into the empty blackness beyond. It felt the heart of the earth spinning deep below, churning in its fiery cocoon. And it felt all of these carried inexorably forward by...

It opened its eyes with a shudder.

The Winds of Time.

Cold enough they had become to drive a chill through even it, the one who had come before all others. Cold, like the heart of the one who stood as time's guardian.

It stepped to the edge of the mountain peak and gazed out upon the world below, wondering what this would portend.

# # #

Ryan watched from behind the cover of a clump of bushes as two men opened the back of the plain white van they had parked in the forest clearing and began unloading its contents. The bang and clatter of the small metal cages the men pulled from the van was swallowed up by the surrounding trees, their previously chirping and chittering inhabitants now suddenly silent. One by one, the men dumped the occupants of the cages onto the ground. Most were tiny orange birdlike creatures or blue and white rodents - torchic and cyndaquil like the ones Dr. Lynd was treating.

Once they had finished dumping their cargo, the men loaded the empty cages back into the van and drove away. Ryan stepped out from behind the bushes and made his way toward the pokemon the men had left behind. Many of them had already scurried away into the forest. The ones that remained looked sluggish and listless. Even still, Ryan approached with caution as these fire types could be very dangerous, even in the weakened state that they appeared to be in.

Several torchic who were missing small patches of feathers stirred only as he drew near, hopping feebly away. Ryan approached two cyndaquil, one of which lay on its side, its breathing labored, issuing only small puffs of smoke from its back where flames should be. The other, its own flame a pitiful flicker, stood over its companion, gently prodding it with its nose. It quickly turned when Ryan's shadow fell across it. He stepped back slowly, fearful of provoking it. Instead, the cyndaquil only looked up at him and squeaked plaintively then returned to nosing his companion.

Ryan took out his cell phone and dialed.

"Arborea Hills pokemon clinic," came the female voice from the other end, "how can I help you?"

"Doctor Lynd, it's Ryan. I found out where all the injured pokemon are coming from. A couple guys just dumped a vanload of them in the forest off route 217. We're looking at a couple dozen here. I'm sending you my GPS position so you can make a pickup."

"A couple dozen? This is bigger than I thought."

"Yeah. I don't know who these guys are, but I'm going to try to follow them and find out." Ryan paused for a moment then held out his phone and snapped a photo of the cyndaquil. "By the way, you might want to tell whoever you're sending out here to step on it. Some of these critters are in pretty bad shape. I'm shooting you a pic."

There was a pause on the other end, noticeably longer than would be necessary to check the photo. "They'll be there right away," Doctor Lynd said, her tone soft but serious.

Ryan stepped out from the stand of trees and watched the white van making its way slowly down the switchback dirt road that led back toward town. "Okay, doc. I better get moving before these guys get too far."

"Ryan, be careful. I don't want you to do anything that'll get you..."

He hung up before she could finish and slipped the phone back into a pocket in his cargo pants, hurrying back toward his previous hiding spot. As he neared the offloaded pokemon, the cyndaquil squeaked at him again. He glanced only briefly in its direction as he passed.

He jumped onto his motorcycle that he'd parked a short distance away - a dual-sport model, equally at home off the road as well as on. He thumbed the starter and smiled as the motor instantly thrummed to life. Its quick response was testament to the pride he took in its care since he bought it two years ago with money he'd saved from after-school jobs. It was a sixteenth birthday present to himself - the only one he'd received that year.

He sped off in pursuit, cutting across the switchbacks and quickly making up the distance between him and the white van.

# # #

Ryan stopped short of the driveway that the van turned in to. There was no need to get closer to know what this place was - a large sign that read "NuGen" in a large, futuristic-looking font sat prominently in front of the sprawling, multistory building that dominated the landscape. After watching the van drive around to the back of the building, he backtracked a short distance and pulled off the road.

The area had just enough tree cover to allow him to circle around and approach the building from the rear. He parked his motorcycle among a nearby stand of trees and crept closer on foot. A roughly ten foot high cinder block wall stood between him and the building - a lucky break, since it provided cover for him as he approached.

He hopped up and grabbed the top of the wall, hoisting himself up and over it and landing lightly on the other side among a row of parked cars. He hunkered down behind them, quickly scanning the area for anyone who might have seen him come over the wall, finding himself alone for the moment. A quick visual search revealed the white van parked near a loading dock a short distance away.

Ryan speculated that they might have come back for another load of pokemon to dump. If so, he could catch them in the act. Since no one had apparently seen him sneak into the parking lot, he decided the best way to avoid suspicion was to not look suspicious and simply stood up and strode openly toward the loading dock as if he belonged there. His ploy seemed to work, as he passed a smartly dressed woman exiting the building who didn't so much as glance at him as well as a man pulling into a parking spot who actually waved at him.

Ryan came to the loading dock, finding its metal roll-up door still open. Inside, he saw a large staging area, its interior currently lit only by the fading, late-afternoon daylight shining in from the outside. Built large enough to accommodate the back end of a semi-trailer, Ryan noted that it could easily accommodate a smaller vehicle - such as a van - inside it, shielding the vehicle and whatever someone might load into it from view.

A few stacks of rather unremarkable-looking cardboard boxes were visible just inside, but Ryan suspected that the shadowed recesses farther in might conceal something a bit more incriminating. After a quick check of his surroundings, he hurried inside and began searching the interior.

Unfortunately, the boxes contained only office supplies and the far corners contained nothing more interesting than a case of rubbing alcohol. So much for the smoking gun, he thought. Still, he at least knew where the injured pokemon were coming from, if not the "why" behind it. It looked like that would have to be enough, for now. He turned and headed back the way he came.

"Hey, you! What are you doing over there?" came a harsh voice behind him.

Ryan turned toward the voice to see a large man wearing black pants and a white shirt walking toward him from the direction of the double doors on the back wall leading into the building. Ryan's stomach sank as he spied the baton hanging from the man's wide belt and the badge on his shirt. He glanced toward the outer doorway, then back toward the security guard approaching him.

The guard was closer.

"I don't think I've seen you here before. Are you an employee?" the guard asked, looking down at him. Broad-shouldered and muscular, he towered over Ryan by a head.

"Yes, actually. New hire," he quickly lied. "Just cleaning up before the next shipment gets in."

The guard eyed him up and down. "Where's your ID badge?"

"Oh, I must've left it in my car. Hold on and I'll get it."

"It's okay," the guard said, pulling out his radio. "Just tell me your name and I'll have Rachel verify you."

"Actually, you've got a point. I really shouldn't be running around without my ID." Ryan said, backing toward the dock exit. "I'll go grab it so we can both get back to work."

"Hold on a second," the guard said, moving to follow.

Ryan broke and ran, hoping that the small head start he had would be enough. He dashed out of the dock, the guard's footsteps close behind. He weaved between some of the cars, hoping to widen his lead, then made a running jump for the cinder block wall. His adrenaline-fueled leap carried him high, allowing him to scramble up and halfway over in one quick motion.

A hand closed around his trailing leg, ripping him off of the wall and sending him sprawling to the ground. The guard hoisted him up with a vice-like grip then threw him across the hood of a nearby car, easily pinning his arms behind him. Ryan struggled desperately but the guard held him fast, until finally he felt a thick plastic zip tie cinch closed around his wrists.

# # #

The security guard shoved Ryan roughly into a small, plain room furnished only with a small table and a few chairs. The guard pointed at one. "Sit," he barked.

After being so easily manhandled, Ryan decided it was best to comply.

A short time later, another man walked in. He was short and balding, dressed in brown khakis and a salmon-colored button-down shirt with a dark green tie. At his side was a bipedal pokemon that, at a little over five feet tall, stood only slightly shorter than him. Its lean upper body was mostly green, including its arms which looked oddly flattened, while its lower body was white. It regarded Ryan intently with large, alert eyes.

"What's going on here?" the man asked the security guard.

The guard nodded toward Ryan. "I caught him sneaking around in the loading dock."

"Just him?"

"Yes, sir," the guard replied.

"Well, check the building and make sure. I'll take care of things here."

With a nod, the guard turned and left the room.

The balding man sighed then turned to Ryan. "This gallade," he said, pointing to the pokemon next to him, "is psychic. It'll know if you're lying to me so don't bother trying. Now, why did you break into our facility? What were you trying to steal?"

"First off, I didn't break in," Ryan said. "And I wasn't trying to steal anything."

The man turned to the gallade who silently nodded.

"So what were you doing in the loading dock, then?"

Ryan considered his situation. He certainly couldn't tell them the real reason he was there. Telling the world's largest pokemon pharmaceutical company that you're going to blow the whistle on them while you're trussed up in one of their research facilities couldn't possibly end well. He figured, at best, they'd quietly dispose of any incriminating evidence while he sat in a jail cell. At worst? Ryan's eyes drifted toward the gallade. He suspected its mental powers had more dangerous uses than just reading minds. But if it actually could tell if he was lying, he wouldn't be able to explain his presence any other way.

Instead, he decided the only thing he could say was nothing.

After asking a few more questions and receiving no answers to any of them, the balding man's patience quickly ran out. "If that's the way you want it, fine," he said. "You can explain yourself to the police." He turned to the pokemon beside him. "Gallade, I want you to keep an eye on our guest until the police arrive. Do you understand?"

The gallade nodded.

The man glanced back at Ryan, shook his head, then left the room.

Ryan hung his head. He wondered how he would explain this to Doctor Lynd. Would she even accept a call from him in jail? Doubtful. A simple trespassing charge probably wouldn't carry too stiff of a penalty, but after this shook out, there was no way she'd let him keep working for her. A shame, that. He'd hoped to stick around at least a little while longer.

Why are you really here?

Ryan looked up in surprise as he realized that he'd heard the words spoken directly into his mind. He saw the gallade regarding him deliberately. "Did- you just talk to me?"

The gallade gave him a bland look. You don't see anyone else here, do you?

"No, I guess I don't. It's just that I've never had an actual conversation with a pokemon before."

Your emotions intrigue me. I felt a great deal of fear from you while you were being questioned, which is understandable.

So it truly was psychic. The thought of it being able to rummage around so easily in his mind made Ryan's insides twist.

What is less understandable is that I detected no feelings of guilt about your actions. The part that I find truly baffling, however, is that you actually became less afraid when he said he was calling the police. Whatever your purpose was in coming here, you feared it being revealed more than any consequence that should follow. So, I ask you again, the gallade said, locking its large amber eyes on his, why are you really here?

Ryan quickly considered the situation. Perhaps this gallade didn't actually know what these people were up to. Given the circumstances, it seemed unlikely. It also seemed unlikely that it would be pleased with its masters if it did know. He decided to take a chance. "They're hurting pokemon."

The gallade's large eyes narrowed. Is that so? it said into Ryan's mind.

"Yeah. They're dumping pokemon in the forest. I don't know what's being done to them before that, but some of them were on death's door when these guys were through with them. I have proof of it if you don't believe me."

The gallade said nothing, just staring at him for long moments. If it could read minds as well as it seemed, it would know he was telling the truth. Or perhaps, Ryan thought, with a knot growing in the pit of his stomach, it knew exactly what was going on. Maybe the balding man was just the set-up and the real interrogator was standing in front of him.

With sudden swiftness, the gallade strode toward him, its right forearm flattening into a dull green blade. Before Ryan could react, it clamped a hand on his shoulder and raised its arm blade high, then brought it slashing down in a savage, green blur.

He heard the sound of plastic clattering on the floor behind him as his wrists came unbound.

Show me this proof you spoke of. Now.

Ryan slowly took his cell phone out of his pocket and brought up the image of the two cyndaquil. "This was taken less than an hour ago," he said, holding the phone out for the gallade to see. "I followed the people who did this back here."

It leaned in close, studying the image intently. Ryan watched its brow furrow then darken into a scowl as it examined the image on the screen. Finally, it straightened, taking a deep breath and immediately letting it out in a rush. Stay here, it said telepathically. I will return shortly.

Without another word, it turned and left the room.

Ryan stood, rubbing his wrists where the ties had bitten into them. Now free, he quickly weighed the situation. The gallade certainly seemed to be swayed by what he told - and showed - it. But what was it doing now? Was it going to help him escape? Perhaps it went to confront its masters about what it had just learned. If so, that could be disastrous for both of them. He could take his chances and make a break for it now, but he knew he probably wouldn't get far. Not without help, anyway.

But as minute by minute ticked slowly by, he felt his faith in his would-be ally waning and his chances for escape slipping away. Whatever the gallade had in mind was taking too long. Finally, he could wait no longer. He went for the door.

As Ryan's hand touched the doorknob, electronic alarm bells rang out through the hallway outside. Startled, Ryan snatched his hand back. A moment later the door crashed open and the gallade rushed through, breathing hard.

"What's happening?" Ryan asked.

A computerized voice echoed through the hallways, "Fire alert, floor 1, section A. Fire suppression system has been activated."

"You started a fire?!"

No, the gallade said, the twenty charmander I let out of their cages in the holding area started a fire. They seemed unusually agitated for some reason. Perhaps they, too, had been ill-used. Now quickly, follow me. The gallade turned and headed out the door.

Ryan hurried after him as the alarm bells and computerized PA announcements continued. The few people they encountered ran past them without a second glance.

After winding their way through the hallways, the gallade finally led them to a staircase. It started heading upstairs.

"Where are you taking us?" he called after him.

There's a lab on the third floor I've never been allowed in or even near. I think we should both like to have a look at it.

"Do you think we'll have enough time?"

This is why you came here in the first place, isn't it?

"Fire alarm, Floor 2, section A" the automated voice blared.

And yes, I think we should have enough time if we hurry.

"So, what should I call you, anyway?" Ryan asked as they ran up the stairs. "That guy you walked in with called you 'gallade' but I thought most pokemon that hung around humans had names."

A few of the people I work with call me Cutter, he replied. Ryan decided for himself that it was a he. Its mental voice sounded masculine, and Cutter seemed like a male name, anyway.

"I guess I can see why," Ryan said as they topped the stairs and rushed down another hallway. "My name's Ryan, by the way. So, Cutter, how much farther is it?"

Here, Cutter said, stopping in front of a white, metal door with a placard that read, "Lab 3-C-11. Authorized Personnel Only."

Ryan tried the door and found it locked. To his chagrin, he found the only visible means of unlocking the door to be a card reader on the wall next to it.

Allow me, Cutter said, producing a card. He slid it into the reader which beeped, followed by a loud click from the door.

Ryan noticed, as Cutter withdrew the card, that it was imprinted with the photo of the salmon-shirted man that questioned him earlier. He quickly opened the door to the lab, deciding it was probably best not to inquire.

Ryan flipped the switches just inside the door and the fluorescent ceiling lights flickered to life, illuminating the darkened room and revealing a panoply of scientific equipment inside. He pulled out his cell phone and starting recording video as he entered.

Dominating the room were transparent cylindrical tanks which lined opposite walls of the large, rectangular room. Ryan approached the nearest one which was filled with a clear liquid and contained an irregularly-shaped lump of organic matter suspended within it.

Cutter stood next to Ryan and peered into the tank. What is that, Ryan? It looks - wrong.

"Cloned tissue sample F22-3," Ryan said, reading a label on the side of the tank. He walked down the row of tanks, each also containing tissues of indeterminate origin with similarly cryptic labels.

At the far end of the room, they found rows of glass-fronted enclosures of various sizes. Inside some of them were bowls of feed pellets and water. An acrid smell wafted from the enclosures - a pungent mix of urine, animal spoor and disinfectant. As he inspected the enclosures, Ryan noticed that Cutter hung well back, his arms clutched together. Ryan could understand why. Even to him, this corner stank of fear.

He moved on to a nearby area enclosed by curtains hanging from tracks in the ceiling. Ryan pulled back one of the curtains, revealing a large stainless steel table. Leather straps dangled from slots in the table's edge and a swivel-mounted light fixture hung above it on a long armature. A small smear of blood marred the otherwise shiny surface.

Ryan felt Cutter's hand on his arm.

I don't like this place, Cutter said, his mental voiced tinged with anxiety. Can we go now?

"There's one last thing I want to look at," Ryan said, drawing the curtains closed once again. He went to one of the computers sitting on a table in the middle of the room. He wiggled the mouse and the screen turned on, showing a plain desktop littered with icons. Most had uninteresting labels and brought up charts full of incomprehensible data when opened. Nestled within one of the subfolders, however, was something that caught Ryan's eye.

"Project Prometheus, huh? Let's have a look at you." Ryan clicked on the folder, but instead of opening, a prompt appeared on the screen. Ryan swore.

What's wrong?

"Password protected. Figures. And we're running out of time. Wait, I know one last place to look." He found the e-mail section and began scanning the recent messages. A few moments later he stopped and turned to his companion.

"Hey, Cutter, can you read?"

Yes, why?

Ryan pointed to the e-mail displayed on the screen.

To: Harold Trumbull, Engineering Dept.

From: Dr. Gregory Talbot, Life Sciences Dept.

Re: Your gallade

At your earliest convenience, would you please send the gallade you have assisting your team to my lab? My project has reached a crucial point and I believe its presence would prove invaluable.

Thank you in advance for your help.

They were going to... Cutter looked up at Ryan then stared at the lone empty tank in the room ...to me?

"I think we've seen everything we need to see here, don't you?"

Yes. I think we have, Cutter said, his mental voice low and somber. We should leave before the diversion I set runs its...

The lab door opened and a tall, bearded man appeared in the doorway, his otherwise clean lab coat marred with dark, sooty scorches. His eyes scanned the room and quickly fell upon Ryan and Cutter. "Who are you? What are you doing in my lab?" he demanded.

"Getting your dumb ass on camera," Ryan shot back, holding up his cell phone. He turned to Cutter. "Time to bail." The two of them raced through the door on the opposite side of the room and into the adjoining hallway. "Is there another way down other than the stairs we came up?" he asked.

Yes. This way.

Ryan followed Cutter through the halls, looking back every so often to check for signs of pursuit. Thankfully, he saw none. When they arrived, panting, at where Cutter had led them, Ryan stared in disbelief. "Tell me that's not what I think it is," he said, pointing to the pair of small, metal, swing-up doors set into the wall. Above them hung a large placard emblazoned with the triangular recycling symbol.

Cutter regarded him for a moment. It's exactly what you think it is.

"Am I even going to..." Ryan trailed off as he heard the sound of rapid footsteps approaching. Moments later, a dark shape rounded the nearby corner - a large, black-furred canine pokemon with backward curving horns on its head. Its eyes glowed with a hellish red light which flared brighter when it saw them.

A houndoom.

He'd never seen one in person before but the stories he'd heard of those who'd been attacked by them - those who'd survived - had given him nightmares when he first heard them.

It bared its teeth with a growl and charged, wisps of flame and smoke leaking from the corners of its mouth. By the time Ryan could react, the houndoom's leap was already carrying it through the air, jaws gaping, toward him.

Just before the houndoom struck, Cutter jumped in front of him, arms raised and extended into blades. It crashed into Cutter, the impact sending all of them tumbling to the floor.

Ryan quickly scrambled to his feet but Cutter was pinned to the floor by the houndoom who had its jaws locked on Cutter's right arm. Cutter slashed at the houndoom with his other arm but his position prevented him from getting enough leverage to make an effective strike. Without releasing its hold, the houndoom responded by exhaling a gout of flame. Cutter's arm took the brunt of the blast, but at such short range, the flame still had enough power to sear Cutter's chest.

The houndoom was making short work of Cutter, but Ryan knew that if he attacked it barehanded, it was likely to make even shorter work of him. He needed a weapon. Perhaps one of the nearby rooms held something he could use - a broom or some chemicals or even a pair of scissors. He dashed to the nearest door and tried it.

Locked.

He was about to try another door when his eyes fell upon a red canister hanging near the door. He smiled grimly and snatched it off of the wall.

Ryan ran back to the melee, aimed the fire extinguisher at the houndoom and squeezed the lever, blasting it in the face. The houndoom yelped in pain, letting go of Cutter's arm and staggered back several steps. Ryan pressed the attack, shifting his grip to hold the fire extinguisher's head with both hands, then hauled back and aimed a low golf swing at the houndoom's head, connecting with a hollow metallic clang that sent it tumbling to the floor. It came to rest, unmoving, on its side, its black fur now dusted powder-white from the extinguisher's blast.

Ryan knelt next to Cutter who was holding his right arm, bloodied and scorched from the houndoom's attack. "Are you okay?"

It stings, but it's not bad.

"I wasn't sure that would work, but I figured it was a good bet that a fire pokemon might be susceptible to a fire extinguisher." Ryan helped Cutter up then opened one of the garbage chute doors.

Not that one.

"What difference does it make?"

Trust me.

Ryan let the door flap drop and opened the other one. "I can't believe I'm about to do this," he muttered.

Ryan landed roughly in the dumpster at the end of the garbage chute, his fall broken by bags full of empty plastic pokemon healing spray bottles. A few moments later, Cutter landed in a similar fashion, his fall broken mostly by Ryan. After climbing out, Ryan looked into the adjacent dumpster that the other chute emptied into and found that it was filled with empty metal aerosol cans of healing spray. "Good call," he said to Cutter who simply smiled in response. "Now, let's get the hell out of here."

# # #

Ryan stopped his motorcycle in front of a lone two-story house. The high-roofed building sat amid an expansive grass yard perched atop a broad hill. "This is it - the Arborea Hills Veterinary Clinic," Ryan said, dismounting.

Cutter hopped lightly to the ground. It looks like a house.

"That's because it is a house," Ryan said as he led Cutter to the front door, past the small wooden sign which was the only outward indication that this edifice was anything other than the cozy dwelling it appeared to be. "Or at least it was. Doctor Lynd's husband owns a small construction company. He bought the place as a fixer-upper and converted it for her."

A bell suspended above the front door tinkled as they entered. Inside, the wainscoted walls and simulated wood grain linoleum tile further added to the homey feel of the place.

It still doesn't look like a clinic.

"That's the way Doctor Lynd wanted it. She told me she hated the typical sterile white-and-metal look. She said it put people on edge. Pokemon, too."

"Ryan, thank goodness you're back," said the woman hobbling into the waiting room from the hallway. Long, wavy brown hair framed her face, upon which sat oval-framed glasses. She stopped, resting a hand on her visibly swollen belly. "I was starting to worry. And who is your friend?"

"Hm? Oh, right. This is Cutter. Cutter, this is Doctor Lynd. She's a pokemon veterinarian."

It's nice to meet you, Doctor Lynd.

She smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Cutter." Her eyes fell upon Cutter's wounded arm and her smile vanished. "What happened here?"

"A houndoom got him," Ryan said.

"Let me see," she said, gently holding up Cutter's arm to examine the bite marks. "This is definitely going to need attention. Come to the back and I'll take care of it." She turned to Ryan, frowning. "How did all of this happen? And where have you been?" She leaned in and sniffed. "And why do you smell like smoke?"

"Long story. The short version is that NuGen is the one dumping the pokemon."

"NuGen? They're behind this?"

Ryan sighed. "Yep. They were doing some pretty twisted stuff in their labs. Or at least some of them were, anyway. By the looks of it, they were going to put Cutter on the chopping block, too."

"I see. Well, I'm glad both of you are okay." They came to the treatment area in the back, which, unlike the waiting area, looked much more like a typical clinical setting with exam tables on a clean tile floor and medical supplies stacked neatly on white shelves and counters. She pointed to a small enclosure containing a pair of cyndaquil. The flames on their backs burned low but steady. "I'm happy to say that we picked up the pokemon at the location you sent us and it looks like all of them should make a full recovery."

"Oh, right. That's- great." Ryan said, fishing around around in his pants pockets. He pulled out his cell phone and started backing toward the hallway. "I think I'd better go get these pictures and videos posted. I bet a lot of people would be interested to see them. Don't worry," Ryan added, noting the hesitant expression on Cutter's face, "you're in good hands."

# # #

Cutter stretched out on the exam table and watched Doctor Lynd as she began passing a glowing wand-like device over his arm. That looks like a model MDP-12 tissue modulator, he observed.

"Indeed it is," she smiled. "You certainly know your medical devices, Cutter."

I worked with the people who make this stuff, you know. They mainly use the HMAP-5 Bio-Reactor now. You can treat six pokemon at a time in one of them. Pokemon centers bought a lot of them when they rolled out.

"Unfortunately, being a small clinic, we don't have the resources that the big pokemon centers have. Besides, I like the hands-on approach better," she said, giving the crest on his head a scratch.

Cutter watched her work, her gentle touch and warm smile putting him at ease. Moreover, he could feel the genuine warmth she held for her charge - a sincere love not only for what she did but for the ones she did it for.

I noticed that your abdominal area seems unusually distended. Is this normal?

"It is," she said, "considering the fact that I'm pregnant."

Really? Cutter's eyes brightened. I've never seen a human egg before. Will you be laying it soon?

"Humans don't lay eggs, Cutter," Doctor Lynd said, smiling. "We give birth to live offspring. And I expect that my baby will arrive within the month."

The extra mass seems to impede your movement, Cutter said, noting how she had to shift her body to lean over the table. Does it interfere with your work?

"At first, not so much. Now..." she rubbed her swollen belly and sighed, "...a little. It's a good thing I have Ryan to help out."

He does seem resourceful. Have you known him long?

"No. He came in a couple months ago looking for a job. Since he didn't have a place to stay, I offered him one of the rooms that hadn't been converted in return for keeping an eye on things at night."

I'm surprised he would want to work here. He doesn't seem very comfortable around pokemon.

"He does give that impression, doesn't he? But he's always taken good care of our patients and they respond well to him. And believe me, most pokemon can tell when someone doesn't like them."

So why does he act as he does?

"I don't know. He's a bit of a mystery. He doesn't talk about himself much, even when I ask, and he never talks about his family. All I know is that he left home as soon as he graduated from high school and after traveling a while, wound up here." Doctor Lynd turned off the medical device and set it on a tray next to the table. "All done. How does it feel?"

Cutter sat up and flexed his fingers, then extended his forearm into a blade. Good as new. Thank you.

"You're very welcome."

Before you go, there was something else I wanted to ask you.

# # #

Cutter walked out to the grassy yard behind the clinic and found Ryan leaning back against a large rock, facing toward the town below in the distance. Ryan had his cell phone in hand, watching as his video was being shared across numerous social media sites, pokemon forums lighting up with the outrage of trainers across the nation at the revelation of NuGen's experiments.

Ryan glanced up at Cutter. "How's the arm?"

Cutter held up the appendage in question. Fully healed. Doctor Lynd is an excellent veterinarian.

"I wonder if NuGen really was ignorant of what that Gregory Talbot guy was doing. Maybe. I hope so." Ryan began idly flicking at a weed between his feet. "Could you imagine that, though? The world's biggest manufacturer of pokemon medicine doing sick experiments on pokemon?"

It would be frightening.

"You know, you really saved my bacon back there. Breaking me out. The houndoom. Nasty business with that."

In a way, you saved me as well. Had you not come, I would have no knowledge of what they were planning to do with me.

Ryan waved a dismissive hand. "All I did was snoop around a bit and get caught."

But you found the answers you were looking for and exposed the people responsible. You risked much for that. I think that says something about you.

"Doctor Lynd wanted to know where all the injured pokemon were coming from, so I went looking."

It's interesting that you bring that up. You see, after she was done treating me, I mentioned to her that it seemed an exceptionally dangerous thing that she asked of you. I was surprised when she told me that she never asked you to investigate the matter at all. In fact, the only thing she remembers saying to you about it was a passing comment expressing frustration at not knowing the source of the injured pokemon.

"Doctor Lynd helped me when I needed it. I was just returning the favor. So now that everything's done, what are you going to do? You're not going back there, are you?"

There are some nice people there, but after what I saw, I don't think I'd ever feel safe there again. A home you can't trust isn't a home anymore.

"Yeah. I know."

Cutter looked at Ryan, startled by the burst of emotion that accompanied his words - a sudden slash with a keen, bitter edge that passed as quickly as it came, leaving not the slightest trace on his expression.

I think I know where I'd like to go.

"Yeah? Where's that?"

I'd like to stay with you.

Ryan blinked. "With me? I, um... I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

Oh. I suppose it was a bit forward of me to ask such a thing, considering we just met.

"It's not that, it's just... Don't you think you'd be happier with someone else?"

What do you mean?

"Well, there are a lot of people out there who spend their lives studying pokemon and learning how to take care of them. I'm just... I don't exactly know a lot about that sort of thing."

I know.

"So why would you want to stay with me?"

Because I like you.

Ryan stared at Cutter, saw big amber eyes full of sincerity looking hopefully back at him. He quickly looked away. "I... I don't..." he started, swallowing hard through his suddenly dry throat. He stared down at the grass between his feet. "...I don't have any poke balls for you to sleep in so you'll have to share the sofa bed with me. It's not much, but it's what I've got." He kept his eyes fixed downward as Cutter sat next to him, leaning into his side.

I'm okay with that.

The last light of the setting sun faded into dusk while they sat together, no other words passing between them. In the stillness of their long silence, Ryan felt an ineffable warmth from the pokemon nestled at his side - a spark of light illuminating a place within him long left cold and empty. Whether it was some psychic emanation or simply a product of his own mind, he didn't know. Whichever it was, though, it felt real.

And that was enough.