Locke and Key: A Nuzlocke Story

A/N: Huh. Longest chapter yet. I liked this one the best, so far, I think. (:


"No, there's nothing you say that'll salvage the lie
But I'm trying to keep my intentions disguised.
And now I'm deprived of my conscience; something's got to give.
Deprived of my conscience; this all belongs to me.
I'm beaten down again;
I belong to them.
Beaten down again, I've failed you.
I'm weaker now, my friend; I belong to them.
Beaten down again, I've failed you."
-Seether, "Truth"; Karma & Effect


"Whoever told you this was a good idea should be shot," I sighed as I went over to Bill's computer. There was a muffled protest inside one of the transportation containers, but otherwise silence as I pushed the button to separate him from the Pokemon.

Who'd wanna be a fucking Pokemon anyways? Sure, they have powers, but they're completely at the mercy of our larger, more advanced, and more dominating world. Pokemon were sometimes used cruelly in battles, sometimes even in illegal battles to the death, and we constantly destroyed their habitats to build onto our cities. Bill was either naïve or crazy to have wanted to be one – especially a Clefairy. The hell.

The smoke cleared, and out of one box stepped Bill – his hair, long and messy, was pulled back into a ponytail. He was wearing tie-dye and had several Poke Balls clipped to his belt.

The other container released a Clefairy – Bill's Clefairy, presumably. The little pink fluffball looked scarred for life, a like a child who walked in on his parents doing something private. My heart went out to the little thing, honestly.

"Thanks so much," Bill said in a lazy voice. I wondered briefly if he was stoned, but I couldn't smell anything. "Did I ever get your name?"

"No. When would you have asked for it? I walked in and you were… yeah. I'm Leaf."

"Leaf. Great. Well, Leaf, I have to thank you somehow, and I think as a trainer, you'd appreciate this." He fumbled in one pocket and came up with a shiny laminated ticket. I raised an eyebrow. Hopefully it wasn't a ticket to a Grateful Dead concert.

"Here. This is for the S. S. Anne."

"The what?"

The S. S. Anne was an expensive cruise ship that went around the world – to all five regions! It always stopped in Vermilion City, then cruised by Johto, Sinnoh, Unova and finally Hoenn, where it stayed awhile in the warmest, most tropical region of all.

I still wasn't sure I'd heard him right, but when he smiled lazily, I knew I'd guessed correctly.

"They invited me because I'm, well, Bill, but I'm not exactly…" he paused. "They're kind. They don't realize that 'cause, well, they think 'rich inventor' and see me as what they'd like."

"Uh. No offense or anything, but you think I'm they're kind? I've never owned a dress or heels in my life, and the only money I've ever had is what's in my pocket now," I said honestly.

"Maybe I'm not inviting you to mingle with the rich and powerful, Leaf," he said, and there seemed to be a hidden meaning in his cryptic words. If I wasn't so dumb and backwards, maybe I'd have been able to figure it out, but at the time I didn't even try.

"Well, shit. I'm not gonna not take a free ticket to a cruise ship."

So, that's how I walked down the Cerulean Cape, stuffing a glossy, expensive ticket into my pack.

It'd been one day exactly, now, since the death of Tradden and the defeat of "Nugget" Bridge. I'd gone right into the tall grass, knowing I had to replace the hole that Tradden's defeat had left in my team. Lucky call – I'd walked out with an Abra, male, level 10, which I'd called Yenra.

My Pokemon didn't like Yenra. I wasn't sure why, but Kashen especially treated him badly – I'd almost call it a bully-nerd relationship, in which Kashen stole Yenra's food, pushed him around, and just generally treated him like shit. It pissed me off, but I figured it'd wear off. After all, the other Pokemon weren't too nice either – Xander completely ignored him, while Tobias ignored everybody, as usual. That solitary warrior shit didn't fly with me when it came to Yenra, though.

As I walked down the cape, looking out over the clear blue waters, I decided to let my team loose for a moment. There were no more trainers up here to fight, and I was feeling better than I had all day.

I threw all of my Balls into the air, and as they split open and unleashed my party in flashes of white light, I admired them all. Color and shape flooded into their forms.

Kashen looked at me as I stood there, and his eyes looked dark. As if he were thinking morbid thoughts, maybe.

"Meleon," he said irately.

"What's your deal?"

"Charr."

He said no more, only turned his back to watch the other Pokemon play. Yenra sat calmly, quietly, seeming to observe the others as he lay back with tightly shut eyes. The sunlight streamed over his small, golden-brown vulpine body, but he didn't bask in it like most Pokemon; he only absorbed the rays calmly, seeming to take the world in stride.

Xander flitted over Tobias, who bounced up to catch him; both of them were enjoying the sunlight and the company of the other, but I sensed distress between all of them – even my new Abra.

I wanted to ask them what was wrong, but obviously, that'd be pointless.

Instead, I waited fifteen minutes and returned them all – except Kashen.

I wanted him to walk with me.

There was silence between us as we took the long, winding trail back to Cerulean City. He seemed deep in thought – can Pokemon even be deep in thought? – but I didn't disturb him. His tail flame seemed to catch the entire sky on fire as we walked on – the blue of the sky filled with red, as if a wound were cut into it and the heat of the blood was spreading. The air was cool for a summer day, and I still felt alive – more so than I had in days.

But Kashen didn't share my good mood. If anything, his attitude proved antagonistic.

"Kashen… what's the matter with you?" I finally asked, a little absent. It wasn't as if I expected a reply.

But when I looked into his eyes – blue as the sky had been at the Cape – I could see something there that I hadn't ever seen in my Pokemon's eyes before. I had seen it many, many times in my life, though – in the eyes of my teachers. In the eyes of the policewoman who had picked me up for drinking in the parking lot at the mart. In the eyes of my mother almost every day of my life.

It was disappointment.

Failure.

I didn't think before my mouth opened, my thoughts crashing down from my brain like a train ready to wreck on a mountainside.

"You're fucking disappointed in me? What the fuck for? I couldn't pretend they were on the team forever, Kashen. I couldn't pretend like they weren't fucking dead. If I didn't move on, we'd all be stuck in place," I snapped, my instincts riled – the defensive instincts I'd used on others since I was ten.

"Charr," he scoffed, spitting fire at the ground. It was a universal "fuck you" gesture, and it pissed me off to no end.

"You think they're replacements? Xander for Grigori, Yenra for Tradden?" I was digging for the truth.

We'd stopped walking now. The blood had drained, leaving a grey-black corpse behind, but a hint of fire was at the core of the horizon, giving the shadows a ruby edge. Kashen looked up at me, obviously angry.

"Charmeleon," he said, and when he said it, he nodded again.

"It's not fucking true." It was. In a way, it was. "Okay. Fine. Suppose they are replacements. So fucking what? Our team can't stay at three forever, Kashen. When someone dies – when someone gets lost – I can't just let their empty space vacuum the rest of us in," I snarled, sounding like a rabid animal. "I have to keep going. And goddamnit, so do you."

"Charr!" It was obvious: I don't have to.

"Then motherfucking don't. Good riddance, you prick."

He looked as though he was tempted to run away from me, but he didn't. God save me, he stayed with me, and instead of running, of being free of a depressive, maniac trainer, fucked up in the head and in the heart,, he reached with one of his long-clawed paws to touch my fisted, trembling hand.

"Don't touch me," I screamed at him – I really am sorry for that – but he held on anyways, the warmth of his Fire type skin against mine a sort of comfort – and a reminder.

Tears gathered in my eyes – stormclouds waiting to burst – but I held my pain inside, and I shielded my eyes from Kashen.

"I'm not going to be a failure, Kashen," I said, staring into the red spot in the darkness - the last of the sun before nightfall. "I'm just not. I can't be. Not anymore. Not ever again."

"Meleon," he responded, and his voice was softer. You aren't.

"And it's thanks to you that I'm not anymore."

Without another word, we started walking again, and as we did, the silence evaporated between us, leaving nothing but companionship.


"The fuck? That wouldn't happen to be the same Rocket… would it?" I thought aloud, peering into the shadows. There was a fenced-in house, and the cops were out front. I wasn't sure what I hated more, criminals or cops, but I decided to check it out myself.

I hopped the fence, a skill that came naturally, and stood, dusting myself off. The Rocket must have heard me, because he turned around, widening his eyes. As soon as I was visible to him, he shoved something into his pocket, and I smirked. Hah. Meth lab bust, maybe? Team Rocket didn't seem redneck enough, but who knew?

"Shit. You must be the bitch Barry warned me about," he muttered.

Hell. If he'd shave his five o' clock shadow and wear some normal clothes, this Rocket would be pretty hot. And, you know, if he wasn't a fucking scumbag.

"Oh, sounds like I'm famous," I bit back at him, feeling a smile twist my lips. I didn't feel it in my heart, though.

"Ugh. I don't have time for this." He glanced behind him, then sighed. "I have to get out of here. If I win, you cover for me."

"If I win, you leave and give me whatever it is you have that the cops need," I said. I was really just curious. Anyways, it's not like some low-class Rocket grunt was going to beat me. My Pokemon were strong - higher than any I'd fought in the area - and I knew Rockets didn't train right.

He looked conflicted.

"…Fine. Let's go."

He took out a Poke Ball and unleashed something strong-looking, with gray-blue skin and big muscles. A Machop.

"Go, Yenra!" I called, unleashing my Abra. It sat docilely, unblinking.

"Abbbraaa," he seemed to purr.

"Machop, use Karate Chop!"

"Yenra, Secret Power!"

The earth shifted; Secret Power turned into Earthquake, it seemed, because the ground shook ruthlessly, rattling the Machop and then knocking him over.

However, he jumped back up, ran over, and whirled around, using Karate Chop on my Abra. The flattened sideways hand smacked against my Psychic type's skull; it seemed to rattle him. He fell over, shivering slightly.

It wasn't very effective, but it did quite a bit of damage to my Psychic type's low defense.

"Shit. Yenra, Secret Power again!"

But this time, the quaking patch of ground was avoided; the Machop leapt into the air, and then was ordered for a Seismic Toss.

I felt a cold sheet of sweat rise on my skin; I could only watch in horror as the Machop reached under Yenra and picked him up easily.

I could only watch in horror?

Is that entirely true?

"Yenra, no! Teleport, something!" I managed to cry, finding my voice.

I could see him shimmer, as though he were attempting to Teleport, but the Machop tightened his grip and leapt into the air, spinning around and then somersaulting mid-air; as he was facing the ground, at least 14 feet in the air, he chucked Yenra straight for the floor.

"Raaa!" He cried, but it was too late. We all heard the audible crack of his spine as he landed, face-down, with a soul-shocking thud.

"No!" I cried, running towards him with abandon. Yenra didn't tremble or spasm, as Tradden and Grigori had; no, he was dead on arrival. I didn't touch him; he was broken in ways I couldn't believe, hadn't ever seen in a Pokemon before. I muffled a cry, shoving my fist into my mouth and therefore stopping the tears, too.

"Yenra, oh God. Oh God, I'm so sorry," I shouted into my fist, turning it into a meaningless prayer for understanding.

I had forgotten my audience in my shellshocked grief and horror.

The Rocket before me laughed – a horrible mistake. I slowly turned my eyes into his, and he scowled.

"You gonna finish the match? Or are you scared your whole team'll go splat, like that one?" He asked, and every semblance of humanity in his face faded, leaving a heartless demon in its place. One I wanted to destroy with every fiber of my being.

"Oh, no," I said slowly. "None of my Pokemon will look like that. You're going to wish you looked like that when I'm done with you."

My hand gripped Yenra's Poke Ball, and I recalled his mangled body. The Poke Ball grew noticeably colder after it held him, but I only tucked it away in my pack, instead of clipping it to my belt.

"Xander, go!"

The fire of hatred burned away sorrow inside – I was left with smoldering ashes, simmering rage that roared when oxygen touched it with every ragged breath.

"Xander, Wing Attack!"

His wings flexing, my sleek blue bloodsucker beat him into submission with his wings – the Machop collapsed.

The Rocket hissed.

"Go, Drowzee!"

"Xander," I said coldly, "Bite."

Teeth bared, Xander shrieked, then dove for the elephant-like Psychic type. It was yellow on top and brown on bottom, but all I saw was the evil its trainer had bestowed on it. All I saw was the death of another of my Pokemon – this time one I barely knew, one that was one level from evolving into a Kadabra. One that was young and innocent, like the rest of them had been - Grigori, Tradden...

One Bite from Xander sent the stupid fat Psychic down.

The Rocket backed away as he saw the murder bleeding from my eyes. We both turned in surprise, however, when Xander cried, "Zuzubat!" And began to glow white.

As he expanded before me, his jaws dropping open, fangs ripening, I only sighed. My Pokemon only seemed to evolve in the wake of a tragedy, and I was sorry already for dragging them along in my twisted quest to prove something to myself and everyone back home.

"Golll," he screeched, flapping much larger, tenebrous wings to send a gust of sharp wind into the Rocket's face.

"Ugh, shit! Get your crazy fucker off me," he cried, holding a hand to his cut.

"Give me what you took and get the fuck out of my sight, you murderer," I snapped. "Xander here has strong wings, but if you cross me one more time, you'll find out that his teeth are stronger."

The Rocket fumbled in his pocket, handed me a disc, and left quickly. I held the disc up, saw the glint of moonlight on it, and read: "Dig." I paused, and wiped my eyes on my arm. "Tradden would have loved this." I pocketed it, then reached out to hug Xander.

"Good job, Xander. God, I'm proud of you. All of you," I said out loud. He nodded, nuzzling against me.

"Golgolbat." His voice was sympathetic.

"Yenra had so much potential, goddamnit," I said, my voice haggard. "He was almost a Kadabra, and…"

"Golbat," Xander seemed to whisper. I could almost read his words: We all have to die.

"Maybe, but does it always have to be my fault?"


Yenra's burial was an hour later, right by the route where I caught him. Kashen and Tobias both stood by me, ashamed of their treatment, I could tell. Instead of burying his broken body, I set his Poke Ball in the dirt, and the four of us covered it, Xander using his padded feet to sweep dirt onto it.

"Bye, buddy," I said, blinking away moisture. "I'm going to keep going. For all of us," I said, and Kashen turned away.

I said nothing more; my dreams that night weren't, as I expected, of Yenra, or his death, or any other death, for that matter.

It was a nightmare of hellish proportions, though, and when I awoke, the word on my lips and in my head was failure.


Current Team:

Charmeleon: "Kashen" – Male, Level 22

Raticate: "Tobias" – Male, Level 21

Golbat: "Xander" – Male, Level 22