"Hawlucha, use Flying Press!" Dean yells, loud enough for the opposing Rhydon to hear and prepare itself. But it was still too slow. I leap high into the air, and dive back down onto it for the finishing blow. "Rhyydon…" moans my opponent as it faints and is retrieved into it's pokeball. "Woo! Nice one, Hawlucha!" Dean shouts as he comes over to award me with a deserving pat on the head.
When we arrive home, Dean gives me another pat and gives me a green pokepuff. My favorite. He goes to bed, and leaves me be. That is why I ran away.
I am Hawlucha. I am a Pokémon, or as I like to call us, humanity's chess pawns. I was taken out of the wild and forced to fight against my will. Then I realized I was fighting for the ENEMY. So I'm running as far away as I can to get away from society and continue living my peaceful, wild life. I'm sure Dean won't miss me, he'll just get some other foolish Pokémon slave to replace me.
As I run I think about all the happy memories I had with Dean, making them as bitter as I can imagine, making him look evil, like he truly is. As I look back at the outskirts of Snowbelle City, I can't help but shed a tear. I am Hawlucha, the wild Pokemon.