Light, my body was unbelievably so.
Odd. Judging by the depressions in the earth that appear with my every step, I am actually significantly heavier than before.
Confounding.
A thin layer of dark emerald mist swims around my body. As I run, cleaving past any tree, branch, and bush that obstructs my path, the mist with a green hue moves in manner like an incorporeal tendril. The tendrils occasionally seem to be licking at my surroundings, leaving a kind of dark afterimage floating in the air after every touch.
Twenty three himself is equally confounding. Judging by the length, the long handle, cupped hilt, and the presence of a blunt ricossa (the area between the hilt and the blade) twenty three seems to be some kind of zweihander.
A giant sword. If I were to set him (I assume) perpendicular to the ground, I suspect that he would be just around my height, 150-155cm.
Most likely for aesthetic purposes, twenty three's blade is colored a dark shade of green. His pommel was also styled in the shape of an upside-down diamond.
I would expect that twenty three was originally a ceremonial blade of some kind, that was then possessed by a ghost (facts to be confirmed, the existence of ghost as the departed spirit of someone once living or as an unidentified species of pokemon without a material form), thus creating number twenty three.
Ludicrous, I should neither be able to lift him nor to actually use him as a cleaving weapon.
Yet here I am, doing exactly that.
Out of the corner of my eye, a small purple object dashes between a pair of giant boulders.
Target acquired.
I approached closer but then discovered a problem. The boulder was too thick and the gap to small for me to squeeze through.
Shame, I'll have to-
A tingle in my arm prevents me from moving away. A buzzing is heard and before I knew it, a sizable chunk of the front boulder had been reduced to dust, leaving an opening large enough for me to easily walk through.
What?
Before I could even analyze the damage and deduce the cause, a cackling sound comes from the lowered blade in my left hand. Not quite like human laughter, but clearly was trying to emulate just that. What it really sounded was like carefully adjusted volumes of different clanging steel.
Twenty three...
He moved my hand without my consent, at a speed too fast for my own mind to catch.
Unnerving.
"...Dangerous."
Another mimic at laughter. No, chuckling would be more accurate.
I pass the boulders and return to my chase.
Extremely dangerous.
If he wanted to, twenty three could easily have me removed. I have insurances, but I suspect they would only succeed in merely denting him at best.
I only have numbers eleven and six on hand with me, losing twenty three would be a sizable decrease in my offensive capabilities.
If only number three...
Everything hinges on twenty six, I cannot let him run away and ruin everything!
Again, I catch a glance of twenty six's small form dashing through foliage. With my free hand, I go to one of the pokeballs latched to my belt.
Still not close enough.
Vain attempt.
A quick slash with twenty three and a portion of the foliage was shredded and blown away.
I notice, that some of the leaves that were shredded had not even so much as made contact with twenty three's blade. It seemed that contact was now no longer required. Twenty three seems to have picked up some dangerous tricks.
I continue to run, making sure to keep an eye on my surroundings to make sure I'm still on the right track.
Footprints, marks, signs of anything disturbed. Missing anything is absolutely unacceptable.
Finally, we reach an opening from the thick forest. Twenty six becomes apparent, and he is faced with a problem.
A dead end. A cliff face by the looks of it. I would deduce that the cliff is too loose to be scaled, twenty six's natural instincts are no doubt telling him the same thing.
"No escape."
Twenty six refuses to comply, opting to sprint away towards my left. Towards the thickness of the foliage, most likely in attempt to reach cover of some kind.
Slow, far too slow.
I throw a pokeball at an area in front of twenty six, he notices it just in time and stops in his tracks. Just in time to avoid the initial shockwave of an opening pokeball.
The pokeball flies back towards me. Released from it was a plant-like creature shaped like a bell with tendrils and leaves growing around it. The creature also had perfectly round eyes the size of oranges.
Number six, the weepinbell.
"Cease and desist twenty six. I suggest- for your sake, that you return quietly."
And if you could, I would have you explain yourself for fleeing from the ursaring attack. Panic? Cowardice?
That would be unfortunate.
It would be difficult, but I'm quite sure I would be able to... dear, what's the word?
Oh yes.
Remedy.
I recall twenty six back to his ball with the press of a button. His body language prior to the recall seemed to suggest either disagreement or frustration with his situation.
...I can handle it.
"Hey you!"
A voice. From my right... west, judging from the sky. Male, loud footsteps, mid-pubescent voice pitch.
A 10-12 year old male, I assume is most likely a new trainer.
A figure comes to view from beyond the foliage.
I knew it.
Just his very appearance suggests inadequacy.
Out comes a boy around my height, wearing a jacket that is extremely inappropriate for forest treading. White sneakers, aviator shades, and wearing a belt full of pokeballs.
"What do you think you're doing?!" he demands.
And his face... A shame, he would grow to be quite a looker.
"Excuse me-"
"I saw what just happened! You-! Threatening your own pokemon?!"
He looks positively outraged. You'd never think that anyone so young would be able to have a face so red with rage.
"I'll have you reported to the league for pokemon abuse! Tell me you're name!"
Really? You just told me that you're hoping to 'report' me, and then you ask me for my name?
A real shame indeed.
Twenty three breaks out into laughter once more in my hand.
What's so funny?
...It doesn't matter. I don't plan on entertaining this boy's nonsense.
Without a word, I recall number six, shoulder twenty three's weight on my shoulder, and walk away east.
"Hey- Stop!"
Judging from the sun, I should still be capable of reaching town just short of nightfall. But by my calculations, I can't afford any kind of distraction.
I continue to walk east.
I can hear loud footsteps behind me.
Following me? Unwise.
"Stop! You- you criminal! Felon! Thug! Ne'er do well!"
'Ne'er do well?' I am unfamiliar with that phrase.
But it sounds sufficiently ridiculous.
I notice something. An irregular displacement in the air around me,
A gust of wind?
No.
I stop.
A pokeball!
Twenty three reacted before I could. He props himself vertical right in front of me, with my hand still on his hilt, slightly higher than my forehead level. I needed no hint, I followed up quickly and placed my free hand on the flat just next to the point.
Right on time. A half transparent, multicolored orb flew, and then burst right onto twenty three's body.
An attack of physically manifested 'aura' (shorthand term for a difficult to detect wave emitted by every living being). Pokemon capable of using such an attack? lucario and togekiss come to mind.
Both of which are extremely dangerous.
"Excellent reaction speed twenty three."
He responds with a short chuckle.
A look at my opponent reveals a pokemon standing in front of the boy from earlier.
A bipedal creature covered in black, blue, and cream fur, with a vulpine head. Spikes erupted from his chest and palms. A lucario.
"Lucas! Another aura sphere!"
'Aura sphere'?
The lucario forms a blue sphere out of thin air in between it's palms that slowly expands.
The formal, league classification name for a specific attack?
The orb shoots at my direction at a dangerous speed.
Only two kinds of trainers use those classifications...
I disperse the incoming attack with a horizontal slash using twenty three. The orb breaks like superheated water in a spherical shape.
Perfectionists and complete rookies.
The boy to my far end makes a face that suggests fear. The perceived sense of dread is compounded by his shrinking body language.
Clearly, this boy is no perfectionist.
In one fluid motion, I unclip a pokeball from my belt, lightly toss it into the air, and then smack it away with the flat side of twenty three's body as if he was a baseball bat. The ball soars just behind the boy and breaks open.
Momentarily, the boy and his lucario turn to look behind.
I seize that moment of distraction to lob another pokeball forward and have it land right in front of the lucario's head just before breaking open.
The force of an opening pokeball is comparable to that of a grenade's shockwave.
"Bind the human, pacify the lucario," I command.
Exactly 0.35 (rounded up) seconds after their instruction, number six (from behind the boy) produces vines from the round tip of his bell-shaped body to wrap around the boy, while number eleven bends each and every one of the lucario's limbs at wrong directions until four consecutive cracks are heard.
The lucario does not scream, shows no signs of pain outside of restrained twitching.
A well trained lucario in the hands of a complete rookie?
While all this happened, I took my time to casually stroll towards the (then being bounded) boy with twenty three propped with my shoulder again.
Image is important, morale is the backbone of every combat engagement.
An image of intimidation, fabrications of a supposedly invincible opponent, does wonders to one's will to fight.
"Recall your lucario if you value his life," I said. Number six managed to catch my subtle command at him to leave gaps around his left hand to reach his lucario's pokeball.
Left is usually the inferior, less dominant hand. Good of number six now that I no longer need to remind him.
The boy looks at me with an expression that clearly suggests complete fear, but otherwise he does nothing.
Frozen by fear? Overwhelmed?
Reassert your authority.
"Now, before I rip his heart out and feed you with it."
Oof, too much.
I should have stopped at 'rip his heart out'.
"Y-"
"Without words."
Must not allow him any freedom of speech. At his age, with his mentality, no doubt he would burst into tears the second I give him the chance.
Silently, he recalls his lucario with rigid movements.
He's shivering. And I think he may have wet himself.
I could kill him now, feed him to number six as well, have him disappear without a trace.
But there would no doubt be some evidence. Though nobody is around at the moment, someone might have witnessed him come towards here, a ranger might be able to track his footprints, I might have left DNA in the premises, and so on and so forth.
But most of all...
"Your name boy."
Assertion of authority. The use of 'boy' suggests to him that he is my inferior.
"A..."
A pause, followed by a hiccup.
He's going to cry.
Nothing I can do will prevent it, it's a natural reaction to relieve stress.
He starts to cry. Starting with sniffles, and then slowly building into wailing.
At least he's aware of his situation. Some fools might have tried my patience by acting defiant.
I calculate around 2-3 minutes before his crying recedes enough for me to ask questions and be able to receive coherent answers.
Tch, so much for reaching the town by nightfall.
So I wait. I stand there without a word whilst the boy's wailing continue to fill the silence.
He was loud, frustratingly loud enough to catch attention. So with hand gestures, I commanded eleven to form a sound dampening barrier around all five of us, as well as have twenty three spread his ghostly presence to deflect curious wanderers.
The mist that surrounds ghost types have a tendency to turn away other pokemon. Whether because the mist incites fear or some pungent scent I do not know. I just know that it is a useful piece of knowledge to have.
Occasionally, the boy's crying would cause a snort and twenty three would break into laughter. But aside from that, two minutes pass without anything noteworthy.
I deduce, at this point, that the boy is now capable of coherent speech.
"...Enough?"
"...Y-Yesh," he says with mild difficulty. Between the hiccups and the face full of snot, the difficulty was understandable.
"Now, I'll ask again; your name?"
"A-Aaron."
No help there. A lot of people have that name,
But one in particular...
"Your full name?"
"..."
Silence? No,
Could he be aware of what I'm trying to do? If so, his silence would already be confirming my fears.
I point the tip of twenty three just short of his neck, right under his chin.
"Your full name. This is not a question."
"Aaron..." he trails off, clearly reluctant to finish that sentence.
"You are trying my patience boy. Name, now."
To push my point, I push twenty three forward. Just enough to break skin.
"G-Gardner! My name is Aaron Gardner!"
Shit. SHIT!
Fantastic! Absolutely, positively-!
Damn damn damn damn damn!
I can't kill him now, I can't! It's too risky. If anyone finds out, if anything points to me as his murderer...
...Goddammit!
It had to be... It just had to be that monster's kid.
"You..."
But I can't just let him go... He's seen my face, if a sketch of me starts flying around...
No, not just that. If that... thing, finds out I had so much as harmed him...
Dammit. More problems are piling up faster than I can solve them.
No... maybe if I just... no, that wouldn't work.
...I can't. I can't think of anything out of this fucked up situation.
"Tch."
I just... I need to calm down. Keep a level head, maybe even sleep on the problem.
"P-Please.. I just wanna go h-home."
"Shut up."
I've not enough patience for whining.
I hit him around the throat with twenty three's pommel. A hard enough shock at just the right place, sustained for just the right amount of time. The boy passes out.
"Six, carry him. No gastric juices, and don't swallow."
If only he wasn't Lyra's kid.
xxx
Bam.
That just happened.
Anyway.
This was an experiment for a new writing format I've been working on. Italics signify the narrator's inner thoughts or comments about stuff, and the non-italics signify actual stuff happening.
From here on out, twenty three's narrations will also follow the same format.
