The Rocket's Red Glare

by uriaaah

OC is running away from a past that is too big to outrun. He's avoiding a destiny that is too prevalent to avoid. Hudson Shiloh will acquire pokemon, not by choice, but our of necessity. He has to survive, and fight for victory inside his own head, where the battle between light and dark is very blurry. I suck at summaries.

Alright, so first story I'm doing on here. There are tons I've started, but I'm trying to be dedicated with this one. OC, as all of my stories will be, and seeking reviews and rating of course. Well, holla back, not sure how frequently I'll be uploading.

Chapter 1: Roots

Its funny how the warm glow of a lit street lamp tries to persuade you that you're safe, that the darkness isn't the source of all fear, of all unknown, of all danger. The only way to choke back his own fear was for Hudson to force an empty scoff out of his freshly chapped lips. He hated how weak he felt at night, or when faced with uncertainty. His eyes told the truth to his feelings; he'd never been good at disguising his emotions in those deep green pools of sight. The night was at its adolescence, stars beginning to shine their brightest in the cold, immortal sky. The town was quiet, all of its inhabitants tucked safely in bed. Hudson's footsteps shattered the silence of the street.

The town was small, humble. The buildings assembled out of brick mostly, giving off a very homely and peaceful vibe. Hudson's senses were at peak, his eyes scanning up each corner and roughly shingled rooftop. The smoke spilling out of the chimneys left a sour musk over the already damp and humid air. Hudson clicked his tongue against his teeth, late, as always, or playing games. He hated that. A plated box in the next alley to his right caught the attention of the young man, maybe 21 Hudson dodged the puddle guarding the box from himself, his black chukka style boots daintily avoiding the threatening water. His lighter brown slim pants tightened as Hudson rotated and seated himself on the box. Somewhere down the darkness there was dripping. The quiet was now even more real without the sound of his steps.

Hudson grunted again at his own discomfort and swiped a pack of cigarettes out of his dark green coat, flicking one of the sticks out and stuffing the rest back into the pocket they called home. A flick of his lighter and the piece of cancer was hissing in his mouth, filling his lungs with breaths of mind-numbing smoke. He knew that soon they would find him. He knew he couldn't run forever. Hudson glanced down at his waist, pokeball-less, as he took another puff of his cig. He didn't think he could avoid it much longer. They were getting too strong, too close to getting him back to that place. Pokémon sure would help, but he didn't want to be sucked into that life, he didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps, he didn't want- CRASH!

A wooden door split in pieces as a heavy booted foot had kicked almost straight through it. Voices, hostile, yelling at each other as four bodies came out of the doorway, frantically looking about. Hudson barely heard one yell, 'There he is!' before he had peeled the corner and taken off down the rainy street at a dead sprint. West or South? It didn't matter; Hudson swiveled off of the main road and past the yards of a few houses. He could still hear yelling behind him, which only fueled the fire in his legs. He quickly decided west, maybe he could work his way up through route 36 and 37. Hudson was definitely not a runner, or rather endurance once. He could already feel his chest heaving and burning with a quitting desire. His legs begged him to stop, but knew they couldn't.

Hudson dodged a puddle and leapt over the front garden of the next house. The city background was fading and transforming into a wooded one. Roofs gave way to trees and houses were fewer and fewer. He would be at route 36 soon. Almost there, then Hudson would lose them in the wilderness. Just as he allowed himself to think of his soon-to-be freedom, a hand reached out from his right, missing, but still swiping along his waist, throwing his balance off and hurting to boot. The pain shot through him, but was the least of Hudson's worries as he felt his body twisting out of control. He fought through it, his stride turning sideways, and momentum carrying him left. His left arm moved down, catching the ground and his fall and propelling himself forward to keep his stride. The man behind him crashed to the ground in failure, and Hudson noticed a small sign to his right labeling he route ahead. He grimaced and pushed himself faster, bending the last corner and disappearing into the darkness of the woods.

"Already?!" Hudson spat to himself, throwing his hands into the air in disgust as he plopped himself down against a small acorn tree. Momentarily he dreamt about how easily it would have been to dispatch his assailants if he still had Terry. Hudson shook the thoughts from his head, it wouldn't do any good to dwell on that now. He closed his eyes and listened. The route was alive with nocturnal activity. But, there was no sound of the four enemies from earlier. He closed his eyes, trying to get some rest, but his mind was haunted by the image on their shirts. That large red 'R' that had given him nightmares as long as he knew what it stood for. Hudson managed to put it aside, but for how long he didn't know.