I enter the wee town of Emonae on the east coast of Garmoniya. Several small-sized buildings stand on the sides of the main road, and small kiosks and residential houses aligned on the borders of the side paths as well. From what I read in newspapers from the former Pelipper Mail Service and non-fictional books, it was known for its healthy hemp production along with other agricultural developments. The hemp was often used for common products like shampoo, different food recipes, construction, and clothing, which proved to be an economic powerhouse—for a little town anyways.

It's been about forty-five minutes ago since I saw the horrific death of the kecleon, and I think my stomach has finally settled down. There's a medical facility to the left of the main road, probably about a hundred feet down. When you're surviving, you always seem to make time and distance estimations all the time.

I think it would be fine to take a load off at the facility and eat something, then get any supplies I need and continue my travels. It's probably a good idea to take a break anyway and try not to overwork my body.

The little path I walk on is quite desolate and serene, much like all the different roads in Garmoniya. The various plants and shrubbery on the grass beside softly sway to the wind, and I found a moment's solace. Listening. Feeling. Being one with the earth. I stop and close my red eyes, take a deep breath, and inhale the air. My fur brushing against itself. It feels so good. Like I could just forget all of this for the shortest time . . . I need to do this more.

The facility's door was closed to my delight (probably no one's been inside), and I satisfyingly sat on the porch steps. I take off my backpack, and pull out a can of baked beans. God damn, these things are so good at first and get so disgusting over time. The can opener held firm in my paw, steadily prepared to slice open the contents, and all of a sudden my senses tingle with the presence of another. The Lucario family line of emanation gives us the ability to detect individuals through a type of infrared ability, without even having a clear vision of the target.

I'm honestly scared to meet anyone in the anarchy of this land. My dad always said not to go with someone I didn't know, and stressed the importance of what these certain Pokémon may do. I heard they rape, practice drugs, murder others just for fun, and among other things. All of this was said in the civil world back then . . . I can't imagine of the focusing of all these things now.

My heart races through my chest, and the blood and adrenaline flows through my arms and legs. I stand up and tip-toe as quietly as possible to go around the porch to the back of the building, but it was already too late.

"Hey! You!" a tenor-like voice called out behind me, somewhat faint. I turned around to see a magby, about my height of two and a half feet, running towards my position. He had a black bandana around his neck, and also an arm band of the same color. He didn't carry anything and appeared to be a fresh survivor because it.

I regained my composure and tried to calm myself. I returned to the steps to which the other Pokémon approached.

"Uh, hi," I muttered, rubbing the back of my head and looking off somewhere else. I never was good with communicating because of my shyness, a curse that had to be added with my introversion. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh nothing at all. I haven't seen a single person in days!" he replied.

His voice was rash, brisk, and shaky. I had no idea why, but just his, I guess nervousness, made me nervous as well. The body he had was somewhat deprived of nutrients; I saw his ribcage and chills shivered throughout my spine and shoulders.

I paused, and examined him for a few brief bits.

"Are you all right?" I asked, not really concerned but to not make the conversation awkward with silence.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" He smiled and held his claws together in front of him politely.

I raised my left eye in question, then held a paw to my chin to think of what to say next. Something just was not right with this guy. He shook in excitement, was deprived, and the black he wore intimidated me. I slowly realized with an epiphany of who he was and took a step back, eyes locked on his. The friendly face he displayed now contorted to one of hostile determination. I blink in astonishment and frowned. Spontaneously, he lunged at me.

My back painfully landed on the wood floor, and a hard grunt escaped. Disoriented, the fire pokémon jumped on my torso and proceeded his attack. My throat was then tightly grasped in one of Magby's paws. I suffer as I feel like I'm going to black out, struggling to breath, the passages to my lungs frighteningly clenched and squeezed to my bare existence. He smiled sinisterly, a sharp tooth peeking through his bottom lip, and landed a good punch on my nose that caused blood to shoot out of my right nasal.

I flare with anger and contempt. This asshole thinks he's so good. With my limbs free, since he probably forgot and was so eager to kill me, I wrap my legs around his body, tightly clutch, and violently somersault him to the ground in the opposite direction. His head met with the wood, and he cried out in pain. I return to my feet and brushed off the dust that gathered on my fur. The blood running down my nose was wiped with my forearm.

"I'm done playing games with you." I hissed.

With the prick that lay below me wincing in agony, holding his poor head, I grabbed both of his lower appendages. My muscles strengthened and I swung him around the porch really fast in a circular manner. He yelled in fear and from the dizziness, and I could relate to him at this moment so, so well. I had never been so scared in my whole life, and this had to end. I wanted it to end so badly. I wanted my dad.

I then led him on to one of the columns that supported the roof on the facility. Instantly, a large thump was heard, the wailing ended, and I was physically forced to stop. I examine the damage and discovered that his head collapsed with the column, and he now lay there unconscious. At least, I think he is.

I breathed heavily in and out, trying to fathom to all that just happened. I had no idea that I'd be meeting someone today—someone who passionately desire to end my life—and I had no idea either that I had the fight in me. I never got into any fights growing up. In relation to my peers, I was most of the time quiet and whenever I made interaction I was pretty modest about it. They left me alone, as I did them. Whatever this monster inside me was . . . it growled.

I was no longer hungry, but I really had to take a piss. Still clouded in this array of fear and especially fury, I relieved myself all of the fucking bastard. Bastard. How ironic. I made sure to get every square inch of the mother fucker, to let him know that he was a little bitch. What the hell was he thinking? And the moral mindset of it? Attacking, hurting, killing. Guess I didn't really want to believe Garmoniya truly became this. I put it aside, thinking of it like some crazy dream. But now I've gotten my fair share, and I learned that this is now the reality I, and many others, had to accept.

And now . . . it looks like I've become a part of it. I looked at what I had just did, and screamed in horror.