.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
The Saga of Kings, Book I: Hero
Written by,
Vile M.F. Slanders
.\./.\./.\./.\./.\./.
*T...T...T...T*
I-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-I
\_v_v_v_/
\-.-.**.-.-/
V-._.-V
\.^./
V
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"...Morituri Te Salutamus... (...We who are about to die, salute you...)" -The Last Words, made in sacrifice; Ranger's Oath, Line 17
-v-
Chapter I: Helpless
"I just checked with the nurse. They said your rodent will be fine." I sat down next to the shaken youth who I had met on the outskirts of Pewter City. He was looking pretty torn up.
So was his Rattata.
"Listen. I'm putting your License on temporary suspension. Six months probation. You can reapply for the PKMN-T.A.R.E. in four months. But you won't be permitted to reclaim your rat from impound until your probation expires and you pay the storage fee." I wasn't being very nice, and my Colonel's disembodied voice berated me for my cruelty.
"...Remember, the objective is to establish good relations with the Trainer community. Think of yourself as a recruiting agent…"
I gritted my teeth as the memory of my mission locked my neck muscles in a jarring rage.
"Actually… Three months. And I'm waiving the storage fee. You will still have to complete and pass the PKMN-T.A.R.E. though. I'd suggest completing the exam within the first month of your probation. That way, all your files will be in order by the end of your suspension." I only growled the beginning. Being nice wasn't something Rangers are known for. But my mercy seemed appreciated. The kid sniffled. He was obviously relieved that I had decided against permanently revoking his Trainer's license. And now, I had cut his sentence in half. Yeah, I was being really nice for a Ranger.
"So what did you learn?" I asked the kid in a gravelly tone. He looked up at me in shock.
"Anything?" I asked, growing irritated. The kid looked away and began to shake. But I saw the signs.
"Yeah, you did. I can see your ears turning red, and your eyes avoiding mine. So what did you learn?" I pressed.
"Don't sass a Ranger?" The kid tried. I snorted.
"An invaluable fucking lesson. But what was the second lesson?" I wasn't letting him off. He had to say it, even if he didn't know the words that could express it.
"You learned what it feels like to be helpless." I growled. The kid jerked up.
"It's a great lesson to learn, and you're fortunate enough to have learned it from a Ranger. What do you think would have happened if you'd learned it from a feral?" At this rate, I could make a fucking Drill Sergeant out of myself in a week.
"I'd get hurt?" The kid tried again. I couldn't suppress a groan.
"Been watching reruns of the old cartoons, haven't you?" I sounded nothing short of derisive.
"No, you would have died. If you were lucky, whatever feral attacked you would've been content with just killing and eating your Rattata, which would have given you a chance to escape. But then again, you're too stupid to abandon your mon and save your own skin, aren't you?" My words were destroying the kid. But I wasn't finished.
"How's the eye?" I asked snidely. The kid raised a hand to gingerly press the bruised, swollen flesh that had once been his left eyelid.
"It hurts." He answered, his trembling voice hinting that he was about to start bawling again.
"You're the dumbass who assaulted a Ranger when he told his Bulbasaur to disembowel your Rattata. Do you know what the punishment is for attacking a Ranger in uniform?" I asked, my voice growing both dark and deep. The kid shuddered.
"A black eye for minors. Anything I can justify as self-defense for legal adults." I gave him my best 'you're lucky I didn't kill you' grin. Teeth clenched, spittle bubbling, temples throbbing, bloodshot crazy eyes glaring and all.
"So how did you like being rendered helpless?" I asked in a menacing voice. The kid shrank down into the fetal position.
"I didn't."
"Good. Being helpless isn't fun. And it's rarely healthy. Use that. Turn it into humility. Learn caution. Live." I grunted. The kid choked up a bit. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was beginning to like me on some mentorial level. Impressionable. Kids are funny like that.
"Learn fucking caution cold-shit. That way, in three months time, you don't have to worry about sacrificing your little rat for your own useless hide." I was sounding grouchy. So was Vauban. I could hear my little girl's stomach rumbling a room away. I stood up.
"Vauban." My voice took on the monotone of command. Vauban looked up from the Pokemon Center's playpen, a Clefairy toy dangling from her mouth.
"Front and center." Vauban dropped the toy, and responded accordingly. I looked down at my little girl with a sigh. She was trying. I could tell that she wasn't comfortable maintaining a stern expression. And her eyes were far from disciplined. They looked up at me with uncertainty, searching my face for some sign of approval.
"I'm sorry, Vauban." I meant it, and my voice told her as much. But she didn't scrunch up. She took my foot to the flank like a good little monster. I sent that poor Bulbasaur sailing into the opposite wall.
The entire Pokemon Center froze. This qualified as pokemon abuse, blatantly displayed in public. But Vauban wasn't a pokemon. She was a Ranger.
I left the stunned kid on his seat, and ignored the cries of outrage from the Pokemon Center's staff. I strode right over to where Vauban was picking herself up off the floor. Vauban looked up at me with hurt in her eyes, but she wasn't emotionally wounded by my actions.
Vauban was ashamed because she had failed me.
"Rangers." I kicked Vauban into the wall again.
"Do not." I stomped on Vauban's toes, exerting just enough pressure to cause her to squeal, but not enough to do any lasting damage.
"Play." I punctuated with another kick, the hardest of them all. Many of the trainers present were on their feet, some looking livid enough to attack me.
"On your feet, Vauban." I ordered, and my injured Bulbasaur complied. I sighed again. She was shaken, limping, wounded, and wearing a face as guilty as cardinal sin. But she wasn't mean yet. Vauban was a sweetheart, damned to live her life as a Ranger. She may have loved me, but she wasn't supposed to. I didn't know if I could ever make Vauban mean. Sometimes, I wondered if I actually wanted to make my little girl hate me.
I knelt down, and probed her for any serious damage.
"Are you outta your Goddamn-"
"-What the fuck, man?!"
"-Somebody call the police!"
"-Don't you touch that Bulbasaur, you monster-killing fuck!"
I tuned everyone out. These were Trainers, not Rangers. They didn't have a fucking clue what they were talking about. Examination complete, I rose from my trembling mon, and turned around to face the music.
"I'd put that holocaster down if I was you." I growled to the nearest Trainer. He shot me a look that could've killed a Pidgey stone cold dead, and punched a three digit number into the device.
"Police, yeah I'd like to report-" His holocaster was in my hands faster than he could blink, and at my ear before his brain could figure out where his holocaster had gone.
"Ranger Zane Bastard, reporting civilian harassment in Ranger affairs."
"..."
"Oh, I thought I recognised your voice. Gail, right?"
"..."
"Tammy, sorry."
"..."
"Officer Tammy. Affirmative."
"..."
"Gail? I don't know any Gails. I thought you were Gail. Or should I say, Officer Gail?"
"..."
"Ah, well. I suppose that I could let the civi off. Saves you the paperwork, right, Officer Tammy?
"..."
"Oh, so I can call you Tammy again? That's so sweet of you."
"..."
"Yeah, I'm in town."
"..."
"Ranger business."
"..."
"Eh, nothing you won't see on the news in a few day's time."
"..."
"Exactly what it sounds like I meant."
"..."
"I'm difficult?"
"..."
"Uh-huh. I seem to remember someone being a little hesitant on our-"
"..."
"Oh, I will so go there."
"..."
"Ranger's Oath."
"..."
"Truce? Hmm... Sure. Just this once."
"..."
"No, no, I'm not busy tonight. When's a good time for you?"
"..."
"Are you kidding? I am the living definition of always at the ready."
"..."
"Alright. See ya then, Tammy. Wear something... nice."
I hung up and handed the holocaster back to the paralysed Trainer.
"Learn something?" I asked him with a lecherous grin. He snapped out of his scandalized stun and snatched the Holocaster out of my palm.
"We don't need monster-killers like you anymore." He spat at me. I laughed. That was the funniest, most ignorant declaration that I had ever heard in my entire life.
"Right, let me radio Command and tell them that we can all stop trying to kill ourselves for your sake, and then we Rangers can all go on a fucking vacation. Maybe we'll resume active duty once Pewter has been overrun by the Beedrill. If you're still alive when we come back, I'm going to make you sing the Ranger's anthem buttnaked while doing a handstand on the Gym stairs. During peak hours." I stopped laughing abruptly.
"Dipshit civilian." I grunted as I shouldered past him, with Vauban right on my heels.
"Kid." The black eyed youth jumped.
"I'm hungry, pissed, tired, and dirty. I have a date with the finest piece of commissioned ass this side of Kanto in under two hours. Show me where I can find a decent hotel. Then you're taking me and my sweet little Vauban to a greasy diner, so that I can get my squad situated." It wasn't a request, and the kid knew it. Despite this, he was on his toes at a silent stiff stance in a second.
Like I said, I think he was starting to like me.
...
"So kid?" I shot his way after placing my order with the front counter. Fuck if I was going to wait for a fucking waitress to find time for me. I was patronizing the fucking establishment, I got to say when they could take my fucking order.
"So Ranger?"
I smirked. The little bastard was finally lightening up.
"Why didja become a Trainer?" I asked, settling back. Vauban jumped into my lap. I should have kicked her ass for it, but I was feeling just as guilty as her. Calmly stroking Vauban's head, I caved into the sentiments that I knew I shouldn't. The kid looked nervous. Well, awkward. Okay, both.
"I -um… I-"
"Spit it the fuck out." A Ranger to the core.
"I don't know?" The kid shrank into the booth.
"You. Don't. Know. Well, fuck me. That's the best damn reason I've ever heard cross the lips of rookie Trainer." I used a genuinely impressed inflection when I spoke those words, completely throwing the kid off.
"Really?" The dumbass asked me, one unmarred eye of butter and a voice of liquid hope.
"No."
Crushed. Damn. That was easy. All it took was one syllable.
"I guess… I guess I became a Trainer because everyone else was..." The kid mumbled. I couldn't stifle that sigh.
"Everybody your age, you mean." I grumbled from my end.
"Well… yeah." The kid whispered. I rubbed my eyes. It was always the same shit.
"Why, oh why… Do kids always insist on getting killed..." It wasn't a question. Questions have answers. This didn't.
"You're not much older than me."
The first faint trace of a spine revealed itself in the kid's voice. I stopped rubbing my eyes.
"Tell me. When was the last time you saw a friend die?" I asked. The kid locked up.
"The answer for you, is never. I buried four of my friends and one bitch only three months ago. After a tactic of mine failed." I adjusted my beret. The kid had turned white.
"You look at me, and you see age? Is that all you see?" I asked, forcing him to meet my eyes by their magnetic severity alone. The kid swallowed. It was a full minute before he answered.
"No…"
I took a deep breath. Vauban was still, looking up at me with concern. She's such an empathetic little cunt, and I really wish that she was wasn't.
Dinner arrived. I'd ordered the kid a meal too. He seemed a little surprised at the amount of food on my plate.
"I thought you had a date?" The kid asked. I snorted. Kids. They're so naive.
"Yes, I have a date." I said, tucking into a chilidog. The kid looked anxious.
"But don't you want to eat with your-" I didn't let him finish. My snort was so damn loud that the other patrons thought I was choking.
"What part of 'date' don't you understand?" I chuckled as the kid looked at me, completely perplexed. People were still staring at me.
"Okay. I'll simplify it for you. I'm going to be eating with my date, but not necessarily swallowing. She can swallow if she wants, but I don't do the long meat." I explained to the kid. Eyes from other booths turned my way. The kid still didn't understand.
"Wha-"
"I'm going to be fucking her pussy so Goddamn hard that the bitch'll be limping for a month." I told the kid, in full sight of all the scathing glares from the other patrons. Fuck you guys. The kid was gonna learn about it sooner or later. His teacher might as well be a Ranger. The reaction I got out the kid was amusing, to say the least. He turned bright fucking red, and got this wily look in his eye. As if he knew exactly what I was talking about, couldn't believe that I'd said it, and wanted to know more.
Kids. They're not all bad.
"Vauban." The Bulbasaur looked up from my lap.
"Chilidog?" I offered her one of my own. Vauban sniffed it curiously, then made a face. Snorting, she sidled away from my offering. That wasn't a very Ranger like attitude towards food. We ate everything and anything, regurgitation be damned.
"Sucks to be you. Guess all you get is fertilizer tonight." I growled. Vauban did look wounded at that one. I wasn't about to let Vauban get picky, not for one damn second. She was going to have to learn the hard way. An empty stomach would conquer any squeamish tendencies.
"Cortez, report." I lifted a pokeball from my belt, and released my hunter-killer. Cortez formed in a burst of white light. My battle hardened Growlithe.
"Chilidog?" I offered Cortez a loaf of processed meat and canned chili, caked in enough cheese to halt a Munchlax's bowel movements for a week. Cortez never hesitated. He didn't even inspect it. His Commanding Officer had offered him a meal, and he wasn't about to turn it down. Wolfing the chilidog down at a speed that would have seemed harmful, Cortez partook of his evening meal.
"Thataboy." My voice was stern. I looked down at Vauban with disdain. She withered underneath my eyes.
"A Growlithe?" The kid leaned over the table to get a good look at Cortez. His jaw dropped instantly.
He was looking at Cortez's right side. Which is pretty much a giant fucking scar. Cortez got into a tussle with a Grimer back when he served in the Military. The fucking poison-type screwed Cortez up but good.
"He ain't the prettiest, but he's a damn good hound. You wouldn't believe it, but that fucking skin job right there is exactly that. A skin job. Cortez can't grow fur back over it, but it doesn't hurt him, or hinder him in any way." I told the kid, who was looking ill. I heard another patron mock gagging across the room. That got me out my seat.
"Yeah, I'd like to see what you'd look like after kissing a fucking Grimer for eight hours straight. Actually… I'd love to see it." I barked dangerously across the diner to the giggling patron. That shit wasn't right. Those wounds deserved respect. You don't ever poke fun at a veteran's wartime injuries.
Cortez took it all in stride. He was a quiet Growlithe. Almost unnervingly so. There was something old about Cortez. He may have still been a pup at three years in age, but I'm telling you…
There's something fucking old about my dog.
"Cortez." I grumbled his name. The pooch looked up at me, expecting an order.
"Milkshake?" I asked, offering him my lonely malt.
…
"...So Ranger?" The kid asked. Dinner was done. I'd just paid my tab, and left a huge tip for the waitress. She deserved it for having to put up with me. I was running out of time. I had to go get ready for my 'date.' But the kid had asked a question, and judging from his tone, it was a deep one.
"Yes?" I asked, gracing him with my full attention.
"What happened?" The kid asked quietly. Shit. It was my turn to freeze up.
Kids. I fucking hate them.
I was silent for a damn long time. I couldn't pull myself out of that hole without some serious effort. I saw their faces again. I heard their screaming.
I felt that roar.
"Ranger?" The kid snapped me out it. He sounded concerned. The kid was looking me in the eyes. I don't know, nor do I want to know what he saw in them. But it was enough to make the kid's eyes start watering.
"An accident." I whispered, voice hoarse. No. It wasn't a fucking accident. It was a fucking pokemon.
…
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
PKMN-T.A.R.E: Short for PKMN Trainer Application & Registration Examination. Entry level test administered to all Pokemon Trainer applicants for validating basic knowledge regarding League Law, Species Recognition, Situation Awareness, and Wilderness Survival. A minimal score of 80% is required for a Trainer's Licence.