Hey everyone. Well, here's chapter two, freshly written and ready for posting. Enjoy, and if you feel up to it drop a review, after all what could it hurt?

Pokémon

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Rules

I awoke to the roar of thunder booming overhead, my bed frame threatening to crumble into a heap of sheet metal under the power of the sound waves that reverberated against the frame and into the concrete floor below. Sighing at the prospect of having to spend yet another forgettable day in the mud, I shot a glance at the nearby window and was surprised to see that rain had yet to descend from the skies above, though the dark grey clouds that floated ominously above the camp didn't do much to dissuade the thought. I took a rare moment to inhale and stretch, knowing it was probably going to be the last relaxing breath I'd get to allow myself for awhile.

The everyday duties of a protector weren't exactly "hard". Assuming you weren't under attack or in charge of either a scouting or resource gathering mission, really it was just a lot of sitting around and making sure that everybody else was taking care of what they needed to around camp. The everyday duties of a protector newly in charge of a Pokémon however, well those are a whole different story.

Contrary to what you might imagine, Pokémon aren't just mindless creatures who come to terms with their imprisonment on a whim. Most of them are beasts of a most ferocious nature, and though they can be taught to be commanded, the idea of a freshly captured Pokémon obeying straight after capture is ludicrous. Even the Pokémon the starting trainers are given to work with, despite their far easier trainability in comparison to those fully grown in the wild, were prone to challenge their trainer to see what they could and could not do. It's really almost like dealing with a child. A very wild, deadly strong, dangerous child.

Like just about everything else in the world, training is a simple game of push and pull. Give and take. Action, reaction. One tells the other what to do; the other decides which course of action suits their fancy. Of course there are exceptions, but the general rule of thumb is until you fully trust your Pokémon with the guardianship of your own life, you don't risk the lives of others if you can help it.

A few years ago, two of our men with six months on and half a team each were sent to escort a small group on a trip to bring back some timber for the camp to build with. The distance between our camp and the rampant growth of the nearby forest was already close enough for comfort and at the point our barricades hardly did enough to ward away invaders. It was supposed to be routine, especially since the two Pokéwielder's were top notch. They left at early noon when most of the bug Pokémon were expected to be asleep, and they had orders to be back no later than sun down. When they failed to arrive at the given time, a search party was sent in after them.

What we found left of our campmates was brutally shredded apart and lay strewn across the inner layers of the forest. We managed to find one survivor, although he too was wounded to the point of euthanasia being the only fair option. Before his death he'd managed to recount the tale of their ill fated journey. They'd gone in the same as any time before, one protector in front and one in the back. Standard. They'd been halfway through their work when the man said he'd heard a scream the likes of which he hadn't before. Before he'd even a chance to turn his head the Ariados had run one of his mates right through, its poisonous stinger injecting venom straight into the wound to melt him painfully from the inside out. The group had somehow wandered right into the middle of one of the major sections we've since documented as a nesting sight.

The trainer's were quick to act and ordered for the protection of everybody else, at first successful in their endeavor until a half a dozen more of the fucking crawlers showed up, enticed by the scent of blood wafting through the surroundings. At the sight of their enemies growing numbers, the trainers' Pokémon panicked and fled into the deep recesses of the forest, no doubt wandering closer to their own demise. Since then, anyone trusted with a Pokémon had learned that to train was to survive and to survive was to keep the oath they'd sworn the moment they'd accepted their Pokéballs.

As my clouded head began to defog, I noticed that on my left the three others I'd shared these particular barracks with over the past week were still sound asleep.

"Fuck off" I thought, my tone full of venom despite the fact that I was the only one capable of hearing it. The bastard's didn't have to deal with this shitty frame, another mark to add to the list of things I had against them.

I rose silently after a moment or so more and further stretched myself, my muscles tight and sore from the beating I'd taken as an "initiation ritual" roughly two nights before, from two of the same assholes who lay sound asleep beside me. My gaze momentarily found itself drawn to the six inch blade I'd holstered to the side of my bed. I'd been given the bowie knife seven years ago today, proof of my acceptance into the future elite trusted to guard the camp. Since then, whenever I'd considered just up and leaving the settlement, it was there to remind me of my purpose.

I loved that knife. Six inches of sickle ended Damascus steel born of the flame of an Arcanine, attached to a hilt carved of solid oak burnt black and glossed by the aforementioned fire. A small smile crept onto my face as I briefly explored the near endless possibilities before finally brushing the thought aside and reattaching the knife's holster to its proper position on my belt against my right thigh. For the time being I was pleased with the fact that my fighting skills were far superior to my roommates', and this morning, if only out of pity, they'd be spared having to deal with them.

A quick shirt change and a few minutes of messing with my boots later I took my leave from our shared shelter and approached the exit of the actual building itself. As I continued down the narrow hallway, the door ahead of me opened and I was confronted with the same man who had presented me my bowie seven years earlier.

Captain Woodruff had this strange way about him. He emanated superiority, and when you were around him it was like there was a measureable change in the air pressure, as if somehow things around you got heavier (although it's more than possible that those were my own nerves). At thirty five, he was one of the older men in charge of the camp, but you wouldn't know it by looking at him.

The man stood approximately 6 feet tall, and for his age, was impressively well muscled. He dwarfed me by a good four inches and his long curly light brown hair was a big contrast to my dark, straight cut appearance. It was rare to see him inside the camp, although he appeared no different today than any other, dressed in standard camo pants and a black T like the rest of us. Really, the single distinguishing feature I could even point out was the large scar that adorned his left arm.

The thing was a long and thick gash mark which started at the base of his shoulder and wound its way to his wrist. Supposedly received in a knife fight against a Sneasel seeking revenge for the murder of its trainer, the same blades used to inflict the wound had since been used as his personal knives, a reminder of his domination over one of the most deadly of Johto's monsters. Closing the gap between us, the Captain folded his arms and smirked as I fumbled to straighten myself and acknowledge his presence.

"Sir," I hastily spit out while placing my hands behind my back.

"Permission to ask your reason for early arrival?" I inquired.

"Permission granted, but drop the formalities"

His face remained etched in stone and though my arms dropped to relax at my side, the familiar feeling of heaviness that I hadn't been subjected to in a long time hadn't failed to make itself known.

"It's time to get going. You're to report to the edge of Viridian Forest for your test," he instructed, a slight twitch in his cheek.

"Test?"

I was confused. Never before had I heard mention of any "test", and the smirk that graced his face immediately after I asked him wasn't helping to ease my apprehensiveness either.

"You didn't think you would just up and receive a Pokémon, did you?"

He raised his eyebrow, his blue eyes betraying his dark stare that immediately shut down any line of questioning I'd had in mind.

Immediately I became aware of how little I knew about the actual structure of the place I'd been calling home for ten years. I mean, I knew the general hierarchy and obviously who reported to whom, but not once over twelve years did I concern myself with the affairs of the trainers. There were only a handful of others, and most of them were cruel and obnoxious to the point of me wanting nothing to do with the lot. Hell, quite honestly I was disgusted that I was going to have to force myself to congregate with them. My mind was swarming with various scenarios of what I was about to face when the Captain's voice broke through and brought me back to my senses. Not bothering to absorb what he said, I simply stared back into his cold glance and nodded.

"Viridian Forest, sir."

Less than twenty minutes after my brief meeting with Woodruff I found myself packing my rucksack for the ensuing task. Despite the vague information given to me to bring my knife and whatever else I thought could be useful along, I'd decided that bringing everything was more useful than forgetting something; I wasn't going to fuck up because I hadn't been thorough enough. An extra pair of socks, a t-shirt, a small aid kit, some bullshit snacks I hadn't eaten the last time I was assigned to help an escort into the forest. Nothing major, but this way I figured I had my bases covered well enough.

Once that was all squared away, I took a moment to double check that everyone else was still asleep before kneeling down against my bed and grasping under the mattress for the only thing I treasured enough to hide. It took only a moment before my hand settled on it, and the second it did it was unmistakable. Smooth. Warm. I withdrew my hand and took a moment to appreciate the rarity of the Firestone I was holding onto before standing up and slipping it into my pocket. This particular stone had been the result of many hours spent digging in the old well to the East of town. It was hardly a dangerous place anymore; aside from a few Pokémon who occasionally snuck in, everything else had been driven out long ago to make sure that the water the well produced was always clean and easily available.

With everything ready to set out, I slung the pack around from its resting spot on top of the sheets and slipped my arms inside the restraints before tightening them to hold everything firmly against my back. Taking a moment to adapt to the extra weight, I mentally crossed my fingers before glancing toward the window. No rain. At least I had that.

And with that, Chapter 2 comes to a close. I originally planned to have Chapter's 2 and 3 be one large combination but I felt it would read better if I got a little more backstory out of the way now so that future chapters can flow more smoothly.

~NC