April 2005.
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These delicate wings.
"Let me go!" cried a young trainer.
These delicate wings, now torn to a nearly unrecognizable state, are stained with your blood.
The gang of nameless Rocket grunts that had seized the boy upon his exit of Rock Tunnel threw him back and forth between them roughly, snatching Pokéballs off his belt with each push.
Your eyes. The same eyes that saw light only hours ago are now dark. They stare straight ahead. Past me, through me...through my soul.
One Rocket fell to the ground--the result of a violent tackle from Wyr's Butterfree. "The hell?" The man stood back up, immediately throwing a punch in the bug Pokémon's direction.
Your chirping voice. Your cheerful tone always brought me warmth.
"Mightyena, go!"
Will I never hear your laughing song again?
The other Rockets followed suit, each throwing a Mightyena or Houndoom of their own. The young boy, physically drained and badly hurt, could barely move.
All I could do was watch, Butterfree. I wanted to help you. I wanted to save you. All I could do was watch, Butterfree...
The restrained Wyr struggled against the Rocket's grip on his arms. "Butterfree-" he began, but was cut off by a swift blow to the temple and the sound of the ripping of duct tape.
Butterfree...
The duct tape muffled Wyr's cries of protest. A Rocket knelt down in front of Wyr, blowing cigarette smoke directly into his eyes and watching them water. "You gonna cry?" he taunted. His comrades sniggered.
I felt it, Butterfree. I've never felt it so strongly before. I felt...
"Let's show this punk what we do to stubborn Pokémon like this ratty bug here," The smoker yanked at Butterfree by his antennae. Uproarous laughter followed.
...fear.
The Mightyena and Houndoom pack leapt forward.
I was powerless, Butterfree. Powerless.
The Rockets stood aside, laughing and pointing at the slaughter before them. Three Rockets held Wyr in place. Blood drenched the rocky ground. Delicate wings were ripped by jagged teeth, and soft skin gnawed through as if it were paper.
You will rest soon. We're almost there, don't worry. Soon, your soul will rest.
The criminal gang took off as suddenly as they came, taking with them four of Wyr's Pokéballs. Wyr didn't move. He couldn't move.
But they...
"Butterfree."
...they will never rest again.
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AN. I'll need as many reviews as I can get to make it through this fic. Making my day is just a click away.