I've actually had this chapter for a while now, I was just editing it and I forgot to put it out there before the great college application scramble of 2015. The good news is that I just mailed out the last of my many applications, so come February I should be able to pump out chapter tri or biweekly.
NobodiesHiiro : I'm glad you liked it, I really wanted to make a tie in with another story in Johto, and I may even reference your own at some point soon. I almost think its a shame that we seem to work mostly independently even though our writing takes place in the same universe, sometimes even the same continent.
Zarrelion: Thanks for the praise, its good to know I'm on the right track. As for the one error, eh, I guess I just can't catch them all while proofreading.
Oh, on the off chance that you don't follow NobodiesHiiro, I believe he is posting a new chapter soon. He was willing to share it with me before releasing it, and it was very good, actually gave me chills. So if you aren't reading his story "Poké Wars: A Hard Road To Follow" you should go check it out, its been exploring a unique aspect of the undampening I never considered.
I was angry for a time after that- any hopes of recovering from my traumatic experience were dashed by knowledge. It was one thing to be the victim of nature, one did not stand up to or blame it for its tendency to conjure destruction on a whim. But when your loss was the intentional work of another being that could be understood and was mortal, rage and loathing could disguise themselves as righteousness and justice- and even the most patient souls could go rotten with such a vendetta.
I was no patient soul, perhaps I could have been once, maybe even a kind soul, but I was to become the reflection of the world I was thrust into. I was every ugly hateful thing that humanity could find within itself, and then I was pointed towards something worse than myself and given an excuse. I'm not sure if I needed one, but I had one.
Even so, memories of the streets of Goldenrod haunted me, and self preservation pleaded me to abandon the idea for the time being. Despite all my righteous anger I was afraid of what would become of me, and it chilled me. Because my fear was colder than my anger was hot I could use them both, but I was unable to bring myself to use either. I had the mind of a rabbit, I just wanted to run.
But the reason that I could not use my cold fury was because above even Raikou I was uncertain how to use it. I had barely survived Raikou once, and I didn't have the privilege of knowing how I did it. If Raikou could throw lightning into the streets and cause all the death I had seen, what could one boy with a knife and a vendetta do?
Yes, life was cruel like that, though Jenny and Lawrence had yet to see how cruel the world had become, as I shielded them from the very ugly truth that only I wished to see. Apart from the girl neither had even yet to see a human corpse, I never told either of them about what I found in the woods either.
But I saw it all, slowly. Discovering new ruins of what was once a thriving civilization and the skeletons of what could have been loving homes was like running a race against time- where time had a head start. And that was what fought against us constantly; time. Whenever we stumbled across a dead body I wondered if- perhaps if I were only a little faster- we could have reached it before it died and it would be able to still draw breath. Rationality always assured me otherwise, but hopelessness would rebut it without fail.
After all, I was just a boy with a knife and a vendetta.
Sheltered though they were, Lawrence and Jenny kept me sane. Lawrence's joking demeanor and Jenny's authoritative air kept me from straying to far. That is why we cannot lose this sick game with our enemies. This little system of caring and protecting cannot be duplicated by the feral pokemon that hunt us.
If they aren't family, I don't know what is. And if Crescent has to fight to protect his family, he will fight- and if he has to run and hide, he'll do just that.
After all, what else can a boy with a knife do?
AUGUST 21st
I was laying against the tree on the hill I had been on the day before, where I had buried the girl from the street, the soft grass beneath me damp- but where the dampness of the street made the hard asphalt cold and uninviting, the dew on each blade of grass left a smell that made me feel slightly warm and fuzzy, all while my jacket isolated my from the cold wetness.
It was just after dawn, and the hill faced the sun perfectly, its height just enough to allow for one to see the sun above the tree line, and in turn the sun was just high enough to cast light upon the hill, the light meeting the dew like there was a diamond to every tip of grass.
I could have rested in that instant for eternity, and I had resolved myself to do so, at least until something else demanded my attention. Something about the hill soothed and brought about a calm that I was unfamiliar with. Where I could only recall rage, a new feeling, almost akin to bliss had set in. I thought that if this was the only peaceful moment I was guaranteed for the coming journey, I would at least immerse myself in it.
But as I knew all to well, peace was easily shattered, and afterward not so easily mended.
"Where am I?"
The words caught me off guard, for I had thought myself alone. The voice that carried them was both confused and unknown to me- and yet so terribly familiar I felt the urge to tear my hair out. I turned about quickly and faced the source.
The urge to scream grew struck as a bolt of shocked recognition passed through my mind at the sight of the person who had captured my attention. My first reaction was to scramble away, create distance between me and my source shock, and I was to surprised to overcome it. Sound rose involuntarily to my throat- no doubt a startled curse- but was interrupted when my foot caught on a root of the tree I was resting against, sending me on a brief and quick trip down the hill.
"Oh my gosh! Are you alright?" The person yelped in genuine concern, scrambling down the slope to help me. I sat there only dumbfounded, for a moment, before my mind clicked and I understood what was happening. 'Only my dreams would go to such great lengths to torment me.' I thought darkly 'To use the dead against me, is nothing sacred? Can they not have rest in death as I cannot in sleep?'
The girl was at my side, her foggy eyes somehow filled to the brim with concern as she grabbed me and tried to help me up "Sorry if I surprised you, I'm just a little lost, and I was hoping you could tell me where we are."
'And however so polite she is.' I thought with scorn 'My subconscious has a funny way of romanticizing death'.
Perhaps I was willing to play along, or maybe I was simply too guilty to show the malice in my heart; regardless I kept such thoughts to myself, and attempted to keep my face neutral, apparently failing in part when again she expressed concern "Really, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
The irony was not lost on me, on the contrary it almost drove me mad. What was my subconscious playing at? Was it attempting to make me more guilty? Make me see exactly what I might have failed to protect? I would not stand by as my dream disrespected the deceased and punished me for shortcomings I was not sure I had!
"I have"
My voice was cold and sharp, powerful and concentrated on a single point. With surgical precision I struck at the focal point of the nightmare. It felt good to finally have some control, even if it was only in my dreams, and even then only how I responded to them. And the words I spoke were true, and they were words I had wanted to say for a long time- ever since the city I escaped from began to haunt me- which was nearly as long as I could remember.
But most of all, I regretted them immediately.
Her face wore an expression of confusion for a moment as my words sunk in, before realization sunk in. "Oh, I get it. You were visiting that grave on top of the hill right? Sorry for bothering you, I just don't know where I am or how I got here. Come to think of I don't remember much of anything...?" She said, confusion beginning to reassert itself, before gasping in pain and clutching her head, eyes tightly closed in discomfort and frustration.
For a moment it seemed so vivid I forgot it was a dream and nearly moved to help her, before her eyes shot open- brilliant and blue, no longer misty as they should have been "That's right! Y-"
The back side of my body hit the ground with a crack. The suddenness of the impact sent me upwards with a jolt as I rubbed my sore spine.
My head felt murky when I first regained coherency, only vaguely beginning to recall what had happened while my mind was occupied with angry, incoherent words. Regardless of how hard I tried to recall the events of the day prior, I was met with only a blur, only remembering a deep and terrifying rage I was unfamiliar with.
I was in the bed of a truck, our truck, with Lawrence sitting in the passenger seat to be gentle with his swollen leg with Jenny driving us, thankfully I recalled this much at least-though not how I got there- otherwise I would have found myself very confused and more than a little surprised. We seemed to be deep in the woods, judging that the road behind us was surrounded on both sides by trees, and the path was one of dirt.
I turned thoughts back to the nightmare I had had. First was the scenery, why would it take place in a place that was so peaceful? While my experience on the hill had been sorrowful, but the place was neutral to me at worst- like the safe room in the sewers. The streets would have served to torment me better than that place, so why there?
And the girl! How dare my subconscious attempt to create such a perversion of a human soul! The dead were dead, why resurrect them within the confines of my mind to remind me what I might have lost? Why couldn't I just let myself forget and move on?
And how dare she- no, it, I reminded myself, for it was only a mental construction- be so kind?
'No, there must have been something else to the dream, but I was awoken before it could occur. The hill was probably used just to catch me off guard. There were only two paths for the dream to continue- and both led to pain. I chose neither; I refuse to watch my mind kill her over again and I refuse to wait around and let it frame me for her death.' I told myself, even as a tiny voice in my head said that it was unlikely that it- no, she, for if nothing else she was the adaptation of a memory, and I would be doing that memory a disservice by dehumanizing it- didn't intend anything of the sort.
The two bickered insistently, back and forward before I let out a sigh- either of frustration or exasperation, though which I was not sure- and pulled out a pokeball, running my hands over its smooth, homogenous surface as I resolved myself to not think about it, and instead knocked on the back window of the truck, vying for the attention of my companions.
I waited for several seconds before frowning from the lack of reaction. I knocked on the glass again.
This time Jenny moved, saying something I couldn't here through the glass nor over the noise of tires on dirt. Lawrence seemed to stir slightly from whatever she said, and she said something else, loud enough that I could hear a mumble through the glass window.
Lawrence jumped in his seat as if startled, then he stretched his arms out lazily as if he were just waking up, then his window rolled down and he poked his head out and looked at me with a drowsy stare "Hey, you need something kid?"
"Just wondering what our situation is looking like."
"Give me a minute" Lawrence said, before dragging his head back in the car and asking Jenny something I couldn't make out over the side of the road. Lawrence reemerged a minute later, an apple in hand "Jenny said we're probably going to stop soon, there's supposed to be somewhere up ahead where we can stop and try to restock. We'll tell you there, okay?"
I gave a nod and Lawrence retracted his head, leaving me nothing to do but sit idly by and eat the small snack he had given me.
True to his Lawarence's word, we came to a stop not long after, turning to the right off the main road and parking near a humble but decent log cabin in the middle of the woods. Jenny got out immediately, walking over to what I could only call a garage without walls- merely four metal poled suspending a large metal sheet above a car and various practical items- and leaving me and Lawrence alone.
"Okay then, guess she's gonna do whatever she's gonna do, so may as well bring you up to speed here" Lawrence told me, limping over, seemingly putting more weight on his bad leg then the day before, a sign of healing.
I nodded in response, prompting him to continue over and place down a map on the truck gate. Tracing his finger over various small roads and dots as he spoke "We're right here" he said, pointing at a small star that was labeled 'National Park' to the north of Goldenrod, lying at the mouth of the peninsula the city was on. "I think we've been making good time, having only been on the road for half a day and part of a night, at this rate we should get to Ekreuteake city in about... lets say two more days."
His explanation left me with as many questions as answers, we must have discussed it yesterday but for the life of me I couldn't seem to remember it. "I still do not quite understand quite why we chose Ecruteak." I mumbled, trying to sound more disgruntled then clueless..
"Ekreuteake is a large city in the mountains with a fairly strong Pokemon league presence. According to Jenny they also have a damn good police force- her cousin works there you see- and its supposed to have national guard bases scattered around it, because its just about in the center of Johto- and very far inland, as you demanded so insistently."
I nodded again in understanding, the destination seeming sufficient with our collective, and very limited knowledge "So why are we stopped?"
"No real big reason, just taking the chance to restock. There's not much civilization around here, but since the main road was busted, and its on the coast, we don't have much of a choice but to take the scenic route." Lawrence replied.
I nodded again blankly, his statement affirming what I had already suspected, though I was slightly confused as to how a road became 'busted'.
Lawrence cleared his throat "Anyways, there's not much for you to do out here, I'm gonna try to find some gas out here to fill this old girl up" Lawrence declared, hitting the side of the truck with his hand for emphasis "I think Jenny went inside the cabin, I think you should go and search it too." Lawrence said, before turning on his heels and walking away with only a slightly discernible limp. I sat there pondering everything for a moment before I came to a realization.
"Hey! Lawrence! You don't know what's out here, send out a pokemon to keep watch for you okay?" I requested.
Lawrence didn't even stop walking as he waved his arm in dismissal "I already did!" I looked around for the pokemon that he sent out, and finding nothing, I scowled. Such flippant and overconfident behavior was bound to get him killed.
I sighed and walked into the log cabin, walking through the open door and into the surprisingly roomy living room, furnished simply and without much in the way of modern household items- no TV or the likes. Still, a comfortable recliner lay in the middle of the room, sunshine raining down upon it from a narrow set of windows just below the ceiling, with an end table holding what appeared to be a radio and a lamp. On the adjacent wall a bookcase gloated a large collection of books; primarily memoirs, though nonfiction was present, and several fictional classics were also evident.
A brick fireplace adorned the opposite wall, though small pipes running along the wall revealed it to be a gas fireplace. Below it a pair of leather boots sat where cold toes went to warm, and above it its mantle was adorned with pictures depicting a happy elderly couple, along with others- presumably brothers and sisters and friends and sons and daughters and grandchildren.
I walked over to the mantle and picked up one picture in particular, this one capturing a moment with younger children that I recognized from other pictures, as the young boy- no older than twelve- posed holding a large dead stantler by the horns with a gun slung over his shoulder. The elderly couple were also there, smiling in pride of the young boy. I put the photo down, unsure of what to think of it and moved onto another picture- this one a photo portrait of the elderly woman, the only picture dedicated to a single person, the rest instead captured events, moments in time.
I put it down, irritated at myself for my lack of focus "Hey Jenny, I'm going to go check out some rooms, anyplace in particular I should start?" I called out.
There was a brief pause, then Jenny's called out from down the hall "Start at the room at the end of the hall and work your way back, I'm in the first door on the left."
I looked down the hallway in question and started to walk to the end "On it".
I approached the door at the end and tried to turn the handle, to no avail as the door refused to open. I shook the doorknob violently, then rose my foot to kick it open, before thinking better of it "Hey, anyone in there?" I asked. Several seconds passed without response, so I rose my foot again and brought it crashing against the door.
Splinters erupted from the lock as the wood shattered violently, the door swinging wide and far into the wall, before swinging back, half closed. I eased it back open slightly and walked through into what appeared to be a bedroom- one wall sporting a simple bed with a small nightstand at its side and a chest at its foot. On the opposite side a long dresser with pictures and other various assorted trinkets.
I started with the dresser, going through the drawers and finding only clothes, regardless I grabbed some of the thicker shirts and pants, and several pairs of socks.
The chest was somewhat more bountiful; a large empty but sturdy travelpack, a large but stubby looking gun laid next to it, and a box of large cartridges. I lifted the weapon out of the box and examined it, making note of how wide the barrel was compared to its length (which while not ridiculously short, was still shorter than a one would usually attribute to a weapon as large and unwieldy as this one), the unusual weight for a handgun, and the wear and tear of the well-used stock.
I stuck the unusual weapon in my belt and knelt back down to the chest, picking up the box of cartridges and examining them. I slid the box open and was greeted by a near full box of shotgun shells, twelve of the fifteen spaces saved for the rounds were occupied by the large red shells.
"Don't you think this place looks familiar?"
The voice came from out for nowhere as I slid the box shut and placed it in the travel bag, causing me to jump up and look around for a moment, scanning my surroundings for the source of the question, only to find unoccupied space. I shook my head in confusion and reached down and slung the backpack over my shoulder and walked around the bed.
"Hey! Didn't you hear me?"
'I'm loosing my mind' I sighed tiredly 'Maybe its just the stress, the voice will probably go away if I ignore it'
So embroiled in my concerns and frustration I was that I didn't realize what lay in front of me as I approached the nightstand until my foot landed on it. I looked down to search for the uneven surface I stepped on and processed it for a moment.
Curled up in front of the nightstand, between the bed and the window, was the body of an old man- the same one that appeared in the pictures that I saw above the fireplace. His body was badly bruised-as though he were beaten into unconsciousness in the least efficient manner possible- and his midsection ran crimson with the blood of two long gashes along his sides. The blood was mostly dried up, and his skin was sickly gray.
'No way this guy is still alive' I thought as I reached for his pulse to be certain, and feeling nothing I put it back down, and I began to automatically analyze him.
'The bedsheets are on the ground next to him, he must have been attacked in his sleep'
'His eyes are open with shock, he must have not known that pokemon were capable of this yet'
'The long gashes on his sides are too low for an attacker using a dominant ground assailant, the old man looks like he could have bucked his hips and kicked him off. The old man must have been beaten by the time the attacker got around to placing those on him, the assailant probably attacked initially with blunt force, and the old man must have gone into shock during the attack, and it gave the assailant the opportunity to inflict the gashes along the side.'
'The attacker was incredibly inefficient based on the bruised areas. There are small cuts on his arms, so there must have been some weapon involved, and that's not accounting for those wicked gashes. The attacker most likely did this without recent provocation, and wanted to test its strength. It was probably a native pokemon that knew of the old man's abode, and shortly after it gained deadly strength it wanted to see how strong it was, so this must have happened days ago.'
'But why the old man? The thing that did this wasn't weak, and surely a larger foe would be a better test, and it could have gained territory if it succeeded. There doesn't seem to be any reason to target this person. I just don't get it'
I set the thoughts aside, content with the deduction that the assailant had been here days ago and had likely moved on since, to bigger and grander foes.
"I don't know" The voice made itself known again "I think we should get out of here. Now."
I put the advice aside for the time being, instead pushing the body over so that it lay under the bed and proceeding to advance towards the nightstand. I pulled the top drawer open and sifted through it, finding only an assortment of books and a small notepad. I quietly pushed the drawer closed and moved my hand towards the second one.
"Look out! In the window!"
The voice spoke with such urgency that I hurled myself over the bed away from the window, rolling over the mattress and taking cover behind it. Realizing nothing had happened during my dash to cover, I peeked over the edge of the bed carefully, my hand withdrawing my handgun from my belt, daring something to come through that window and meet nine millimeters of copper. I waited for around a minute, then began to circle around the bed, my gun still trained on the window, and when I approached it I opened it, looking around for potential danger.
I saw nothing, and sighed as I lowered my weapon backing away from the window and sitting on the bed as I recovered from my scare, chastising myself for heeding the warning of a disembodied voice.
Then all hell broke loose.
A loud buzzing vibrated through the room, shattering the glass window, then through it came a mass of muddy colors. The projectile slammed into me, sending me over the edge of the bed and back onto the floor- all while my weapon in the opposite direction, out of sight and reach, and my assailant on top of me.
I wasted no time looking at my opponent, instead striking it with both open palms, and then pulling my legs in and pushing myself away from it. The thing charged again, and I pulled my legs in and kicked outwards, forcing it back again.
The beast hit my legs full on, and was knocked away as I extended them, but a shot of pain up my leg showed it was a costly small victory. My assailant backed off and flew around the room again, buzzing through the air and came in for another pass, myself with only my arms to defend myself from the fatal swoop.
It took me a moment to realize how untrue this statement was 'The gun!' I realized, reaching for my last best hope of survival, and ripping it out more frantically as it came in for the kill. I pulled the trigger as soon as it was in my hand, unable to afford time to aim, hoping and praying that my shot would hit its mark.
And the gun clicked, refusing to fire.
My fate was sealed with that click, recognition flashed through my mind followed by horror. My life ended by an empty chamber. Resignation flashed through my mind as the attacker swooped in, too close for me to raise my arms to push it away.
'Sometimes you bet it all and you lose, I suppose'
"No!"
My eyes opened in shock at the sudden surge of defiance, though unfounded, but opened wider than I thought possible as the mass suddenly shifted to the side and into the wall, as if it had been struck. I sat there dumbfounded for a moment before another thought passed through my mind 'The knife!'.
I rolled over onto the now disoriented opponent, pinning it under my body weight and bringing my knife out of my belt and plunging it into the first thing that caught my attention: any orange streak standing out from its muddy-brown body.
My knife not only sunk into it, but tore straight through the thin tissue-wings I realized. The assailant shrieked in pain, and I continued my attack, this time thrusting my knife into the center of the beast's body, eliciting another shriek. I yanked on the knife to prepare for another strike, but my it held fast, stuck within the creatures armor. The creature reversed my pin, flinging me off and scattering the contents of my bag about the floor.
The beast turned back towards me, furious, and lowered two wicked horns towards me and charged. I threw up my legs again, holding it back just before the horns reached me. I flattened my back against the ground and attempted to kick it away again, but couldn't find the strength to do so.
I racked my mind quickly, searching for an alternative solution when I saw a shotgun shell that had rolled under the bed, just within reach. I frantically grabbed for it, inadvertently nudging it away, and then attempted again, successfully grasping the cartridge.
My legs burned as I whipped out the gun, releasing a switch at the base of the barrel, snapping it open and-
A crack followed, followed by two more, and then another two- each one throwing my attacker off of me. I twisted my neck and saw Jenny, standing in the doorway, several scratches along her arms, but otherwise unharmed, and leveling a still-smoking gun at the fallen form. The shape moved slightly, and Jenny's finger struck the trigger three times rapidly in succession, each small click followed by a loud bang, and then a shudder through the body of the beaten beast.
Jenny walked over to it, kicked it over and then fired into it again.
"Damn, what was that?" I asked panting, my body finally noticing the debt of oxygen that it had accumulate.
Jenny glanced towards me for a second and then began scooping up all the items scattered on the floor "It looks like it was a pinsir, you're not wounded, are you?"
"A pinsir?" I asked confused "pinsir can't fly, they don't have wings. You must be mistaken."
Jenny swept her hand across the floor, successfully clearing it of dropped items, then shoved them into the backpack and tossed them to me "Look at it yourself if you don't believe me."
She rushed out the door before I could respond, leaving me to look back at the assailant. Just a solid brown corpse with pale horns and claws- a pinsir.
It fit, really. The claws were small enough that blunt force would be the largest payload of each strike, its horns were about the right size for the wounds on the old man.
'But still, it was so fast, and I saw some colors, am I going crazy?'
I tossed the backpack over one shoulder and made for the door.
"Can't say I didn't warn you"
