-1Does anyone like hospitals? I don't know, the staff aren't always as gloomy as you'd expect. Doctors and nurses, tend to keep a high spirit whenever they can. Maybe they just get used to people getting sick or dying. I'm sure they hate whenever a patient dies, but surely they can't feel the pain as much as anybody who actually knew them. For their sake, I hope they don't.

Si, the girl and I had been sitting in those uncomfortable hard plastic chairs. The ones that had that awkward curved back to them that you knew was in part to cheap design and in part to the fact that people had leant onto the back legs of them, rocked back and forth whenever they were irritated with waiting for their eight year olds to be told they had chickenpox. I had to get up and pace around the room every so often, padding on the ball of each foot like a bored lux a ray. I couldn't sit down without fidgeting anxiously. By that point, I was in two minds. Part of me did nothing but worry. The other part believed we had made it on time, that Chris was going to be okay and that we'd be laughing about it as soon as the doctors did their job.

The place smelt funny, but I think that's what you ought to expect from hospitals. You know that smell - it's like the one they have in retirement homes. Where the cheap linoleum is mopped several times a day in an industrial cleaning fluid but still some how smells of old people suffering from arthritis and the flu.

As if that's not bad enough, they always try and cover it up with economy savers air freshener or popourri as well. You'd have thought that they'd assaulted enough of your senses with the dingy ceiling tiles they always have and the dim energy saver lights that never provided enough light for you to fill in a Su Doku grid without straining your eyes. The hospital was quite quiet too. By the time we had got sitting down it was only around ten a.m. and I suppose that's not at all that busy of a time for a hospital. You had a few people sitting in seats around us, waiting for their turn to see the doctor. Some tried to start rather forced sounding conversations with us. The old woman who was content to tell us about how she had worked and paid taxes all her life and how the health care system wasn't like it was back in her day. The middle aged labourer who had hammered a nail into his thumb and needed a tetanus. I think they kind of worked out in the end that we didn't want to know and consequently left us alone.

Between the three of us, we kind of kept ourselves vaguely entertained. We chatted from time to time but there was a lot of awkward silences. I suppose whilst I was bored but never-the-less confident that Chris was going to be fine, Si and the girl were on edge. When you travel around as trainers, you tend to experience a lot together. I knew that Chris was going to take a time to heal up but I think the doubt in my mind of whether he was going to pull through had all but disappeared completely. He might have been hit by a car travelling at high speed but if anyone could survive such an injury, it would be Chris. I think Si wanted to have the same faith in him, but being a med student he wanted to have some of rational sense to what had happened. As for the girl, she was pretty shook up for the fact she had hit Chris in the first place. I guess it's natural that she would worry about his well being.

We found out her name was Elisé. She was studying to be an architect and was currently on her Summer internship. We told her that she'd done enough, that it could have been anyone that ran Chris over and the fact she had let us drive him to hospital had probably saved his life. She said she couldn't go without knowing if he was okay. Maybe it was some sort of guilt that compelled her to stay. I told her that the police probably wouldn't be involved, at least there'd be no charges against her. She had driven as anyone would have going about their business on a highway. In a way though it was comforting to know that there were still good people in the world. Those who'd go out of their way to make matters right. She joked about how she was going to have to explain to her Dad the Chris-shaped bump in her bonnet, the broken headlights too. She'd promised her Dad when he let her drive his car that she wouldn't let anyone else drive too. She seemed quite amiable too. The type of girl who had vision, worked hard on things she cared about but wasn't going to be tediously career minded. By that I mean she wanted to be a great architect, but it was the work, not the money that mattered to her. She sounded like she could party pretty hard too when the feeling struck her. I could imagine she'd be the type of girl I'd end up making out with at a party when we both had a few beers in us. That or Chris would end up going out with her for a few dates and see where it went. I was sure that could have been arranged whenever he came to.

I ended up having a cigarette during that waiting period. I excused myself to do so and I ventured outside the hospital and walked to the sea front. It wasn't that far to the docks from where the hospital was built. The hospital building overlooked the ocean - a cold black-painted steel railing was all that separated the pavement from a metre long rocky slope that followed into the water and prevented any drunk from falling in. It's what I'd leant into whenever I was having my cigarette. The wind had picked since we had arrived at the hospital and the sky had turned a foggy grey. The Antaro region was quite famous for having rather unpredictable weather. You'd have days where you'd be wearing your raincoat, the next you'd be wishing you were wearing shorts. I was expecting the rain to start splashing down on me as I smoked but other than the occasional wave splashing spray from the sea up at me, I was left pretty dry. Looking out over the sea, I got to witness some of the wonders of life. Just watching wingulls hover over the surface as they fished gave me something to focus on when I smoked. The small white birds kept in solitary pairs as they fished, their orange beaks acted more as teaspoons used to stir coffee than the tips of spear like beaks larger birds might use to peck prey. One of the famous city attractions was the famous Pelipper walkway where the larger evolved forms of wingull would perch on before they fished. I had never taken the walk down it but I was always kind of amazed by the big bills pelippers had that made them almost like living boats with wings. I'd seen kids ride their backs like slow moving jet skis when I visited the beach back on family holidays in Vermillion. Pokémon always gave me something to focus on when I smoked, which in a way diverted away from the fact I knew I shouldn't have been smoking. I had thought of myself as a morning smoker but I guess I just needed a nicotine rush to pass the time. It kind of made all that anxious waiting some what more tangible. I walked back into the waiting room after my smoke, just as the doctor was going to deliver the update to Si and Elisé.

I think when I saw his face was when my heart just sank. He stood around six foot and was probably in his mid-40s. He had tidy black hair, with a few grey patches on either side of his head and wore thin plastic framed spectacles on his eyes. His face was one of experience, only weathered a little over time. He seemed like the type of wife and two kids kind of guy - he wore a white lab coat over a half buttoned suit white shirt and equally smart black trousers. It was as if he was professional, but friendly; I could even imagine some easy going banter with him. Just at that point in time it wasn't going to happen. On his face was a grave expression. I walked slowly back up to join the other two as he delivered the news. I didn't want to hear the worst but I knew I'd need to be sitting down to hear it.

"I'm afraid I don't have a lot of good news," he said with a soft sigh.

I looked back to Si and Elisé. Elisé covered her mouth as if trying to prevent herself from screaming. Si's cheek twitched as if he had just swallowed down the need to cry again.

"He's.. he's dead then?" I asked in a less than cheerful tone. I really didn't want to hear yes and I didn't want to have asked the question.

The doc just shook his head.

"He's alive at this point in time but for how long I can't be sure," he began. "Your friend has suffered traumatic injuries, his ribs are broken and his internal organs have had severe damage to them. We've had to operate on him to deal with the damage and prevent internal bleeding."

I just stared into space in silence as he continued with the bad news. I was trying not to imagine life without Chris but being told of the extent of his injuries chilled me to the bone.

"I don't want to sugar coat this in anyway because I know you'd see right through it. His chances aren't good. In all honesty, we are doing the best we can for him. If he's to pull through, we're going to have to operate on him again. Even then, I can't promise you anything. He's on life support at the minute. The next twenty four hours are going to be crucial," he explained in a calm but serious tone. I didn't like what he was saying, but I could appreciate his honesty. "Does anyone have any questions?" he asked sternly

I looked over to Si and Elisé again. I couldn't think of anything to say. My sense of hope was completely sucked out of me in one foul swoop. I felt helpless. After we made that trip to hospital, I was so sure he was going to make it. We had done the impossible by getting him to hospital on time. I thought after that it would be fine. I guess I just failed to realize the seriousness of the situation and had been kidding myself the entire time.

Si looked back over to me and for a moment we shared a look of sadness. Elisé couldn't bring herself to look at either of us, her vision had dropped to the floor. I just rubbed her back to let her know that we were there. I wanted to be more of a comfort, let her know that it wasn't her fault but I think it was Si and I who were probably hurting more. Neither of us would want to admit it either.

"I should probably ring his mother," Si decided.

I nodded in agreement.

"That would probably be a good idea," the doctor said. "I gather the three of you were from Kanto?" he asked with a nod to Si and I, the third person referring to Chris.

I nodded again, having little to say.

"Well you're welcome to sleep in the waiting room here if you have no where to stay. There is a hostel not too far down the road but I'm assuming you'd want to be as close to your friend as possible.." he trailed off, knowing that Si and I were in other places at that time.

"I'm going for another smoke," I said, my voice straining as I spoke.

I must have gone through half a packet my packet of cigarettes, lighting the next one with the dying embers of the previous one. I let out Gengro to join me, I figured he might like an update. The ghost emerged from his poké ball with that slick grin he always did, only for it to be turned upside down. The purple shadow pokémon even hovered down to the ground when I delivered the news, something I rarely see him do. He was just under five foot in height, most of that was his body. His large triangular ears protruded from his body and stuck out in opposing directions, his arms and legs were plump and stumpy, ending in jagged claws of gas. Some people would be terrified to even get near to a gengar and in a way, I didn't blame them. Whilst Gengro was in some ways tame, he wasn't a being you trifled with lightly. Other specimens of his species often had a sinister personality. Gengro though was as easy going as I was. Except for the fact he absorb the very life out of a man. That I couldn't do.

The two of us sat and talked over things. Gengro could communicate telepathically. A gift that he only really let me experience. Times like this, he knew his gift would go to good use.

We reminisced over Chris. Chris, was your classic case of being life's golden boy. With a bit of determination, he coulda been a top athlete. Whether it was ping pong, or rugby, even boxing he coulda been a contender. Only things I could ever do better than Chris were either in the school subjects that he didn't take an interest in, or in tests of gruff manliness. But then, I don't recall there being an Olympic competition for being able to drink pints of beer and then take more punches than the other guy. Of course other than play fights Chris and I never scrapped. I might have been an inch or two taller and a bit bigger built but trying to wrestle the leanest and naturally strongest guy you're ever like to meet is a feat onto itself.

Thing with Chris was that only if someone challenged him, he didn't feel he needed to prove himself. When he was asked to join the rugby team at school by the coach, he turned it down. Something that I woulda given my right arm for. You see, Chris did things because he wanted to do them, he didn't think too hard on things. What you saw with Chris, you got. He took life as it came and you took Chris in the same way. I don't think I ever met anyone who didn't like him. So never mind the fact he could run a hundred metres in eleven seconds, he may have been athletic, but it wasn't who he was. What mattered was being around his friends - not just Si and I, but just as importantly his pokémon. As trainers, Chris and I could go toe to toe, each time trying to do something that neither one of us would expect, gaining a bit of experience along the way. His feraligatr I don't think I need to mention any more. It was a chunky bipedal amphibious reptile that stood close to eight feet. You could see the blue skinned beast from miles away. When it came to battling against it, you didn't dare get close. As for his marowak, it too was extremely well trained. Standing less than five foot in height, it was no less skilled. The brown coloured skull wearing dog man wore its skull helmet and armour like a knight. Never in my life have I seen a pokemon that could wield a piece of bone as efficiently as a samurai wielding a sword. One thing you could really appreciated about Chris was his ability with younger pokémon too. He had a young vulpix, maybe only a month or two out of its egg that was almost as fast as a full grown Ninetails. Chris harnessed its speed and ability to weave flame efficiently to defeat the last gym leader we had to battle. He dispatched a skarmory with ease. That's just the pokémon Chris kept on him. At the age of twelve, Chris's family moved from Johto to Kanto, he went on a short lived pokémon training adventure having been given a totodile on Professor Elm's young trainers scheme before he moved though. When he got over to Kanto he decided it'd be best to go back to school. That's where Si and I met him.

Si and I had been in different social circles before we both met Chris and I guess he kind of just acted like the friendship glue that brought us together. We stayed friends the whole way through school and the three of us in our own rights were the best trainers in the school, hands down. It was only after school that we decided to go serious. In fact, we all did a year of university. I was thinking of being a historian, Si a doctor and Chris.. Well, he just picked something and had a go. In the end we realized that we needed time to gather ourselves, go on an adventure, get some self discovery or something. We toured Hoenn and did remarkably well, then had a brief stint of the coliseum scene in Oore. But now, we were in Antaro, 5 badges in with only two and a half months before the annual league was about to begin. We were trying to pick up the badges as quickly as we could without skimping on the training.

That being said, our time constraints didn't bother any of us, least of not Si. I think that's what made him such a good trainer, he took his time with things and only got frustrated when he had made a wrong doing. Truth be told, that wasn't very often. It was funny. In some ways, he was the most mature out of all of us and in others, he was just this little kid, that woke up every morning with the same brightness to his eyes you might see a six year old have. I thank this day that Chris brought the three of us together, otherwise I might not have ever come to be as good friends as I was with Si. Whilst being one of the top trainer earned me a lot of respect in school, I found it hard to make friends. I was always trying to prove myself by doing outrageous stunts and making an ass out of myself for attention or to make people laugh. In reality, I was just this kid that wanted to daydream and be accepted. I learned from Si that I didn't need to do that to make friends and that when you try to be everyone's friend you can end up their enemy. He was the type of guy that accepted his place in life, played happily at his pursuits and never got too stressed out. Just like him, Si's pokemon ended up with the same mind set that he had. Laid back and cool. Maybe the only flaw with him was that he had a tendency to be slightly vain. Chris was a good looking guy - even witnessing Elisé stroke his head in the car, you could tell she thought so. As for me, I got told a fair bit that I was handsome in my own way. So in a way, it was only Si who missed out in the looks front. He didn't stand out as being naturally handsome. I wouldn't call him ugly by any means, but he was tall and skinny, his face freckled and in some ways a little effeminate. So Si would tend to make a big effort, as soon as we arrived to a new town, he'd find somewhere to straighten his hair and go to the store to find the best clothes he could get with the money he'd won from battles. Ack, I didn't begrudge him for it really. I suppose when you don't worry about how good you look when you wake up in the morning like I do, you might worry a bit more about personal appearance. Anyway, his style also kind of got him attention when it came to girls. It kind of complimented his easy going personality. It meant that he got to impress them with his smarts, he had a lot of those. If Chris were the athlete with some brains, Si was the scientist with some athleticism. Maybe not quite as good at sports as Chris, Si still held his own whenever he put the training in. It was his intelligence that got him places though. He wouldn't have been at genius level of intellect but he had a great capacity to learn fact after fact and understand the implications behind them. When he could be bothered studying hard in university, he was top of the class. That being said, times where he could be bothered studying hard were few and far between.

The three of us spent a bit too much time doing fun things during our first year of university. Partying, socialising but perhaps more than anything - battling. I always loved battling. Training a pokémon that you grow and learn with to become best friends and comrades in arms gave me more joy than anything else. I don't know why we didn't go on the journey earlier. I think we just got a little rail-roaded into the whole school into university into career thing that so many people get forced into. Sure, I loved studying history but really, it was pokémon that mattered more.

Gengro and I must have perched against that rail and talked over all of this for almost an hour and maybe just thinking of the good times we had had. Then Si appeared, to check up on us. He padded slowly around us. It wasn't hard to work out he was hurting, that he was stressed and anxious. He paused by the rail and looked out to the horizon, the same one I was facing.

"You okay man?" he asked in a concerned way, his eyes still turned to the sea.

I shook my head and took another drag on the cigarette I was smoking. My ninth in a row.

"Nope. You?" I quizzed in response.

"Nope. Could seriously do with one of a joint. Just in hope it would make me not give a shit," he replied. It was like he was talking within a hurt sigh.

"I think that would be a hope in vain. Anyway.. I think I'd prefer some whiskey," I said, turning my gaze to look upon his boyish face.

"I hate whiskey. It's so harsh. Makes me feel grumpy too," he explained in a downbeat tone.

"Maybe that's what I need. Just to get drunk and… fight someone." I scratched the side of my cheek where some rough bits of stubble irritated my skin. "Well. I'm going to get some. You coming?" I decided, with a beckoning question.

He shook his head.

"That girl in there is probably as cut up as we are and one of us needs to be there in case.."

"In case what?"

We looked at each other for a fleeting second and then, realizing what we just said looked away. We didn't want to even think of life without Chris. There was nothing we could do though. Except leave the doctors to do their job. I couldn't hack being in that hospital, knowing that the odds were against us. All I wanted to do was go out and get painfully drunk. Hopefully end up getting hit by a car so I could take Chris's place. That was my logic at the time.

"Well I guess I'll see you later," I decided before taking a poke ball from my belt and recalling Gengro.

"Please don't do anything stupid man. I don't want to lose Chris. I don't want to lose you either," he confessed, his voice becoming dry and harsh.

I tossed my lit cigarette down on the ground and put it out under the swivel of a foot, then nodded and turned to walk on.

I don't know how long I walked for trying to find a liquor store or an off license. None of them seemed to be open at that time in the morning. I suppose other than me, only winos would have wanted to get drunk before lunchtime. Eventually, I found one though. I just walked in and bought the cheapest bottle of whiskey they had on offer. It tasted foul. Burned my throat as it went down, felt like it was tearing my chest apart too. It's what I wanted though. I wasn't in the mood for tasteful wine, or even a few sociable pints of beer. I wanted my body to be in as much pain as I mind was.

For the rest of the day, I stumbled round town, drinking the hard alcohol like it was water to a dehydrated man. I took a trip round the city park. Sitting on park benches, just getting ruthlessly drunk. I felt like shit. Most of it is pretty much a blur to me now. I remember the odd look on the odd person's face as they saw me stagger around hopelessly. I probably shouted abuse at kids too. I'm must have bought another bottle of whiskey too, just to continue fuelling my lack of sobriety.

By about eight o'clock in the evening, the only light was the artificial, street lamp kind. That's when it occurred to me that when Chris had got run over, we never picked up the poke ball that contained his Muk. If Chris was going to be alright, he would ask almost straight away if his new pokemon was okay. That's when the alcohol really started taking over. As blurred as my memory is of these events, I still remember them occurring.

The drink took me on what felt like an epic journey, walking through busy city streets for miles and miles. I somehow managed to dodge detection to get onto the motorway once again. Thankfully it was a little quieter in the late hours of the evening than the commuter rush of the early morning, otherwise I might really have ended up in a hospital bed alongside Chris. I'm not sure how much of the path alongside the road I actually walked on. I wouldn't be surprised if I staggered across highway roads in my disorientated and drunken state. My eyes really felt like they were bleeding the whole time too. Being blurred by alcohol and having to walk under the painfully bright motorway lights that shone down from overhead.

After what seemed like another hour of staggering, I came about that part of the road we had used last distinguishable only by the large piece of fender bender ripped out by Scizor's earlier x-scissor attack. By that point, I'd managed to find the side path of the motorway. I know that much because I remember seeing that blue coloured sphere, rock back and forth in the dirt as cars drove by and having to dodge them to pick it up.

I grabbed it and began making my way laboriously back to where I had started from. I had to dodge police vehicles that probably would have pulled me over for walking on the motorway or for being drunk and disorderly. Somehow I manage to make it back into the city streets once again using the shadow from billboards and ducking away from where the bright motorway lights would have given away my position.

At night, the city was a miserably cold place. I was really starting to feel the cold temperature too. The forest had been at times almost unbearably warm and there was a sticky humidity in the air, so it would have been unnatural to wear anything warm - a mud caked t-shirt and some loose fitting jeans was all I wore. When it came to the urban jungle however, there was a constant harsh crosswind that brought in an air temperature of only a few degrees. I pressed the straps of my backpack tighter into my shoulders for just a fleeting second. It's so easy to forget you're carrying one when you're so used to doing so, but in a way it did a good job of blocking the force of the wind blowing from behind me. In one hand, I rhythmically tossed and caught the great ball containing the Muk, the other keeping my bottle of whiskey warm in the pocket of my jeans.

At that point, I decided that it was time to go back to the hospital. Maybe in the morning, I could wake up and find Chris was going to be okay. In doing so I must have walked through the wrong streets, or the wrong neighbourhood. Either way, I ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It must have been after midnight and with it being dark and me being a good deal less than sober, I more meandered haphazardly through the city trying to get my bearings. My sense of direction was never good.

I was walking through what I thought was a quiet deserted street when it happened. Midway through that continuous tossing of that ball containing Muk, a hand appeared seemingly out of no where to catch it that was anything but mine.

I stopped almost dead in my tracks and looked to the source of the theft. Medium height, broad shouldered and burly. Head shaved. He had a couple of teeth missing and a strong urban accent that could have made me sick. Gleeful eyes behind a crooked nose just glared at me. He wore a black t-shirt with the arms cut off and a pair of trashy jeans. Behind him stood two taller but thinner pals of his.

"I think I oughta keep this," he said, spit spraying from his mouth as he spoke. His skin was a greyish yellow as if the complexion of someone who smoked way too much.

Even when I was drunk and wanted to fight, I always looked for an alternative as if to try and make a half assed remark to do the right, civilized thing.

I looked him straight in the eyes and made a humbling face.

"Please," I said with a slight shiver due to the cold. "It belongs to a friend of mine who was hit by a car today," I explained, my voice wry and with a drunken slur to it.

The bastard just grinned and replied in an insulting sarcastically tone.

"Aw dear. Little snookums here has a friend who was hoirt and he wants to get him back his pokémon. Ain't that sad?" he asked, expecting laughter from his chronies. He got what expected, the most dumbass-sounding chuckle I think I've heard in my life. "Problem is he's drunk and not from around here. Where you from? Johto? Kanto?"

"Kanto."

"Yeah? I fucking hate little shits from Kanto," he spat aggressively. "You won't be getting this back for sure," he said in an irate tone as he tossed the great ball again. "Now, give us a reason why we shouldn't beat the shit out of you."

I stayed totally silent and just glared in silence at him.

"I said give us a reason," he intoned again. "What age are you anyway?"

At that point I realized there was no point reasoning. I was too drunk to care if they put the hurt on me. I probably wouldn't have felt it until the morning. I was gonna be hungover anyway. I raised my head and glared.

"Old enough to kick your fucking ass," I snarled at him. As soon as I did I felt his massive hand crack me straight in the mouth. I was too drunk to see it coming.

I dropped to the ground on my front, the blow having me knocked me down. I spat and rubbed my mouth with the back of my hand. The salty taste of fresh blood. Just what I wanted. At that point, my mentality was one of the 'kill or be killed' kind. I knew that a punk like him wasn't going to stop at a quick punch in the mouth. So I did what had to be done. I brought myself to all fours, pressing myself up stiffly by the palms of my hands against the cold hard concrete pavement. Then I sprang, using the balls of my feet to give me that push, shoulder first into his waist. It was half haphazard bulrush-rugby tackle, half mixed martial arts style-shoot take down. Whatever it was, it took the beefy bastard by surprise and knocked him straight on his ass. Before he had a chance to react, I shuffled myself quickly towards him and moved to bring my knees on the ground either side of him, sitting on him to restrain his movements. From there I brought my fist to his face. Then another. Then I just began to unleash all hell upon it.

I lost count of how many blows I landed on his face. I just unleashed every ounce of anger I had in my body, raining punch after punch on him, even pounding his head with my elbows when he tried to defend himself. At that point, his friends rushed to his aid. One grabbed me on my left arm, the other took my right. Together they hoisted me off him, but perhaps only just. I remember them struggling to hold me back, to contain my rage. I think they knew that violence against me wasn't going to put me down. After the day I had just had, all I saw was red.

After a moment, the big one began to try and sit up, shifting awkwardly on his elbows. His nose was some what more crooked than it was before, his right eye was swollen and his skin was inflamed as if to suggest there'd be bruising in time to come. I got a cruel sense of satisfaction from seeing my handiwork and perhaps even the expression of surprise that lay upon his face. I was sure he was used to fights, but being on the receiving end of a beating probably didn't happen all that often.

He spat an unhealthy looking splash of red coloured saliva containing a broken chip of yellow tooth.

"Alright you little shit," he said in a growl. It looked like it almost hurt for him to speak. I must have landed a blow or two to his jaw. There was also a dizzy roll of his head that suggested he had almost been knocked unconscious, his eyes swollen looked strained to be kept open. "I tell you what. I'll give you that ball of your friends back to you if you can beat me in a one on one battle. You lose, I keep it and the pokémon you battle with."

Still being restrained by his two cronies I just chuckled probably the most evil sounding laugh I've ever had.

"Care to raise the sticks a little bit big man? A thousand yen? Or are you Antaro fuckers too chicken?" I questioned cockily. I wasn't even thinking of the implications of losing. It never occurred to me that I may have lost a pokémon to some vile guy with more brawn than brain.

"Fine," he spat maliciously. "Lets see what you got."

At that point my arms were released by the skinny ones. I reached down to my belt and grabbed the first poke ball my hand found. Scizor.

"Go Scizor!" I declared in a slightly cheerful tone as I tossed the black and yellow coloured ball to the ground.

When it opened, the bug appeared in a flash. It uttered its name and came to stand at close to six foot, it's long thin red metal exo-skeleton legs clinking as they touched down on the ground. Those legs ran up to it's thick abdomen and to the thin but broad-shouldered torso from which to sharp crap like claws extended from. They snipped a little as the bug closed and re-opened them, his three pronged head turning from angle to angle in a series of quick twitches. Once again, the four oval shaped wings that extended from his back buzzed a little as they were flapped.

The big one came to stir before finally shaking himself off slowly and clambering to his feet. I had to give him credit for taking such a beating and being able to still talk and stand afterwards. He nodded slowly as he stared at the bug.

"Go Hitmonchan," he said before tossing down a generic red and white coloured poke ball.

Lavender coloured shoes gave way to thin brown coloured bandy legs that led to a torso of a pokémon boxer. The humanoid monster stood about a good foot shorter than scizor and was dressed for boxing. I suspected that with its gloves and natural fighter's stance, the pokémon was bred for battling. Nothing more, nothing less.

I stared down the punk again, ignoring his cronies who had moved back behind him.

"Scizor, focus energy," I commanded. Immediately the steel exo-skeleton-ed bug bent both of its thin arms and began channelling energy through its body, a series of bright lights shone within it until its torso glowed bright white.

"Hitmonchan, mega punch!" the punk replied in turn. Keeping on its toes and keeping it's guard up, the fighting pokémon moved swiftly towards the scizor and fired off a fast left jab to the scizor's armour, with the boxing glove clinking off seemingly harmlessly.

"Ha, scizor is part steel and you want to use normal attacks?" I mumbled insultingly.

"Nah, he's just steadying himself, Kanto boy," the big one replied before uttering his second command. "FIRE PUNCH!" he yelled fiercely at the humanoid pokémon.

"Hitmonchan!" the pokémon replied as if agreeing to its masters words before turning its entire body swiftly on its toes, swinging its right hand towards scizor. As it did so, its boxing glove became momentarily engulfed in flames before connecting solidly with the bug's torso.

If I'd been sober enough, I might have had a better battle plan, or told scizor to dodge the attack, but then - I wasn't sober. Because of that scizor must have suffered a great deal of pain as the fiery punch connected. The impact and feeling of his steely exo-skeleton becoming excessively warm and pressing against the bug tissue within can't have been good one.

"Sci.. Sci-zor," the bug said struggling to stay on its feet. Fire was the only thing the bug was weak to, but boy did it hurt it. I could see it straining, trying desperately not to hit the dirt. I needed to end the match as soon as I could and in my favour too, for everybody's sake.

"Scizor, hyper beam now!" I yelled in command. The bug took a slow unsteady step back, then jammed his right claw into the hitmonchan's side before opening it. The bright light that shone from his chest area shot down his thin arm and into his crab-like claw before he weakly opened his red pincers. What blasted straight out of his claw was a wide angled blast of concentrated energy.

I had to shield my eyes as the bright white beam struck the fighting pokémon. The hitmonchan had been hit with a colossal amount of force that it was knocked flying, spiralling through the air before hitting the dirt face first. As it skid to a halt, its wide eyes closed like little crosses. There was no getting up for it tonight.

The punk stood dumb founded, his mouth wide open.

I turned to scizor, with an apologetic look. I knew I had done wrong even when I was drunk and I felt mighty bad for it. The bug shot me a look of dissapointment, as if to clarify with me the fact I had acted irresponsibly.

"I'm sorry buddy. I won't ever let it happen again. You did well though," I said before crouching to raise the spherical black and gold container off the concrete to recall the bug and set it back in its slot on my belt.

"I'll be taking the poke ball and the money if you will," I said sneeringly.

He shook his head and grabbed the blue and red coloured ball that contained the muk and more or less through it at me.

"Two nights from now in the warehouse district. You'll get a lot more than a thousand," he said with a look of contempt towards me and then conceding a look of uneasy respect. He recalled his hitmonchan and turned to his cronies. "Come on boys, I don't want to have to look at this chump unless I have to." They turned and began walking slowly in the direction away from me.

I wasn't of the mind to demand my payment at the time. I just had to make a mental note of what he had said. The warehouse district, two nights. Scizor needed healing anyway.

At that point I began walking towards where I hoped the nearest poké center might be, hoping that I was heading in the right direction and that it was open. I was starting to sober up awfully quickly.