Lawrence on Lightning Island.
This is the story of what happened to Lawrence III after he got stranded on lightning Island after his machine crashed, and is indeed how he first met Rachel, who appears in several other stories. Those who have read my other stories featuring Rachel should be aware that this occurs before she gets changed.
The machine was utterly ruined.
Lugia's Aeroblast had cut it in half and even the computerised kitchen equipment wasn't working. Lawrence III pressed all the buttons, but there was no food, no water, nothing. Climbing back down, he patted his pocket. All he had left was his Mew card.
A quick look around confirmed there was nothing and nobody left around. He had to find water at least, but where to look, he had no idea. Perhaps there was some in Zapdos' cave, but there was no way he was going there. He wouldn't think it inconceivable for Zapdos to recognise his tormentor, and was taking no chances.
Half an hour later, he had still found nothing to eat or drink, and he looked up fearfully at the sky. It would be dark soon, and where would he go then?
He had never felt so helpless in his whole life. Except….he frowned, as a long-buried memory struggled to free itself. Lawrence sat down, put his arms around his knees and rested his head back. That memory…something about being helpless…alone..and frightened.
Young. He had been young. The memory came in bits. His hands had been tied. He had been shouted at. Then, he remembered.
Flash.
A hand clamped over his mouth and his hands were pinned behind his back. Six year old Lawrence struggled, but the man was too strong. He was thrust into the back of a car, and it drove off.
Another man helped the first, first of all sticking a large piece of tape over Lawrence's mouth, then using more to tape his hands together behind his back. Then his knees and ankles were taped, and he was shoved sitting up between them.
"Right, little rich boy, no trouble off you. Your parents will be happy to pay money to get you back, so we need you alive. However, if you cause trouble, there are plenty of ways of making you hurt without physically harming you." One told him. He cowered back, his lilac eyes wide with fear. He felt a stinging and let the tears fall, dropping his head.
He had been driven for some time, then carried out and put in a deserted building, still taped up, left lying on one side like a sack of rubbish. He had waited for ages once they left him, to be sure they had gone, then tried to free his hands but his kidnappers had done their job so well he could barely move them. When he stretched, the edges of the tape cut into his skin.
Just when he thought things couldn't get worse, he'd noticed the Rattatas…..
Lawrence was sweating. This was an unwanted memory, something he'd done his best to forget, to bury. He had striven to hide the frightened little boy he'd been, determined not to make himself an easy target. He had first made himself successful, both with personal relationships and schoolwork. He had many acquaintances, other pupils at school, but they were no more then that. He was too wary, too scared to allow friendship, except for Cyril, who he'd rescued from the school bullies. Never, never had he let anyone get close enough to hurt him, in case they were going to.
He had cultivated the arrogant, confident face he showed the world. He was careful never to appear too surprised, and to hold himself erect and impassive no matter how scared he was.
Then he had found his element, and his head for numbers enabled him to do uncannily well on the stocks and shares. With the money he had made on his first success, he had purchased his Ancient Mew card. It was an object of rarity and beauty, and it could not hurt him. He began looking around in antique shops and online, and found many other objects that were also rare and beautiful. He wanted them, so he could look at them and find some sort of peace.
Then he had turned his eye to Pokémon.
Lawrence had given all his Pokémon to Cyril when he had started collecting. Once again, he was too frightened to allow the usual bond between Pokémon and Trainer to form, so giving them to Cyril had been no great loss. He had seen a Trainer with a shiny Pokémon, a pink Butterfree, and couldn't fathom why the trainer wouldn't sell it to him.
He had looked up the various kinds of Pokémon, and legends involving them. He didn't want any old Pokémon, only rare ones-shiny, or Legendaries. He had purchased one of two stone tablets in existence detailing the Shamouti Legend of the Three Titans, had seen lovely depictions and carvings of them, and that was when he had decided they had to be his, for they were indeed rare, and very beautiful. Lugia, too, the greatest piece, would be his as well, he decided.
The Legend spoke of three Titans of Fire, Ice, and Lightning who would destroy the planet unless a mysterious Chosen One could bring the three together, and these three brought together would tame Lugia, the "Beast of the Sea." He saw himself as that Chosen One, but he had to accept that maybe he had gotten it wrong.
Lugia had sung and harmonised the three birds, and the bad weather had cleared up. Lugia had again taken to the skies, and he could have sworn he saw a young boy-one of the ones he'd accidentally captured-on Lugia's back.
Lawrence was crying now, heedless of the tears on his cheeks as the memory replayed itself in his unwilling mind.
Hours had passed in which the Rattatas had gotten closer, emboldened by his lack of movement, and they had been joined by several large Raticates with sharp-looking teeth. He had thrashed out at them with his head and legs as best he could, but each time they had scattered, they had returned, getting a little closer every time. He was tired, at the end of his strength, and he knew that if they chose to attack, he would not be able to stop them.
One of the Raticates suddenly turned it's head, as if listening to something, and the other Pokémon in the room did too. Then Lawrence himself heard voices and footfalls. The Rattata and Raticates scattered, fleeing through the windows and doors they'd entered by, Lawrence was glad, because it meant the Pokémon had left, but he was scared too. Was it his kidnappers returning? What would they do to him?
Figures entered the room, and a familiar tall blonde haired figure saw him and rushed over.
"Son!"
Strong arms picked him up, turned him over and hands began working on the tape around his wrists. More people came over, more willing hands applying themselves to the tape around his leg and on his mouth. Soon he was free, and with a wail of relief, he threw his arms around his father's neck, buried his face in his shoulder and sobbed his heart out.
Lawrence remembered that his father had later told him that the kidnappers had revealed Lawrence's location after receiving the money. They had covered their tracks well and had never been found, and Lawrence lived the rest of his childhood in fear that they would return and kidnap him again.
He was stirred out of his memory by a footfall, and looked up to see figures approaching. He let out a littler cry and threw his arm up to protect himself. These were Shamouti Islasnders, they were still in festival clothing, and who knew what they'd do to him for going after their Guardian?
The approaching figures stopped, and he heard a voice say "what's happened to him?"
"He's scared." Said a female voice.
"Why?" another voice asked.
"I don't know." Said the female voice, and then the owner stepped forwards.
She was a brown-haired girl, her hair up in a ponytail, her clothes the skirt, top, and poncho Festival wear, and she reached towards him and extended a hand, but did not come forwards.
"Come on, come with us, we need to get you off here. You need food and water, and probably a bath and bed." He looked up, and she saw the tears on his face, the fear in his eyes.
"Don't hurt me." He said in a small voice. She nodded.
"I promise. I won't hurt you." She said. She saw his eyes dart to the others. "Neither will they. Will you?" she asked. They all made a promise not to hurt him. The girl reached back to the three men who were there, and one gave her a blanket which she held out to him. She gave him a smile. "My name's Rachel."
"Come on. I think you need a bit of help here."
Lawrence looked at her, then moved forwards and allowed her to drape the blanket around his shoulders. He was slumped, bowed over, and Rachel put a comforting arm over his shoulder to lead him to the waiting boat.
The three fishermen who had accompanied her followed in their wake.