It was a cold night, and the rain outside was steadily pouring. Sam, the owner and bartender, had the door propped open to air the place out for the night. We hadn't had a customer in over an hour, and now that the door was open I knew it must be about half an hour till closing. Sam wouldn't let the door be open much longer than that.

"Ali!"

I slowly picked my head off the wooden table. Well, there goes nap time. "What?" I called back, my eyes still fixed on the table.

"Customers! Get up!"

I rolled my neck, pushed my blonde hair out of my face, and got up. Of course, thirty minutes to closing, we'd have customers. Of course. So I adjusted my skirt and walked over to where they were sitting. They were the typical type that came in at two thirty in the morning—burly, short hair, and gruff voices. "What can I get you guys?" I asked in a monotone voice. My purse was already full of tips; I didn't feel the need to give any costumer service.

"Two beers, darlin'," the first guy slurred, making a grab for me.

I dodged it. "Anything else?"

"I only owe you one beer," the second guy added, "That Pokémon was pathetic anyway."

I kept a poker face. They smelled like they didn't need any more alcohol.

"You said it was your best one, and I took it out with my Weedle." He guffawed. "You're pathetic."

"Two beers, got it." I hurried off after that, before I had to hear any more.

Sam heard the order and had the beers ready by the time I sulked back to the bar. He offered me a sympathetic smile and I took it with a nod. We both knew what they were talking about and we both didn't like it.

"Tell them it's on the house," he whispered to me. "I don't want them staying here very long."

I nodded again. There were really only two types of people that came to our no name little bar: trainers fresh out of Diglett's Cave or Route 16 who just wanted a cheap drink, and thugs like this. I put their drinks on the table and then stepped back, out of reach.

"It's on the house."

They made a few more crude comments, and I tuned them out. I really couldn't stand them, but I knew what I had gotten myself into when I signed up for the job. Sam didn't like to hire help because of it; however, the tip money associated with being the only waitress in the bar was too good to pass down.

"Take the trash out, okay?" Sam told me. It sounded like a question, but questions were always orders with Sam.

I just nodded. He handed me the large bag of trash, already tied off. I threw it over my shoulder, feeling like some disgusting Santa.

Out the door, and instantly covered in rain. I shivered slightly. Today of all days, and I didn't bring my coat. Hopefully, I thought, it'll lighten up before I have to walk home. Fall weather in Kanto is generally pretty mild, after all.

After a moment or two, my eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, and I headed out for the large dumpster used by the entire alley. Overall, the neighborhood was not great. Not as bad as some parts of Saffron, sure, but still not the place you'd want to set up a summer home. There was a dim sum place down the street that wasn't bad, a few convenience stores, a cheap hotel…

And the basement of the bar.

I had to walk past it to get to the dumpster, and I did so at a near run. Instead of renting out the back room of the bar, Sam instead chose to keep his stock in the back room and rent out the basement. In this kind of neighborhood, there weren't many takers, but Sam eventually rented the place out to a few guys. It became clear, however, that they were running an illegal Pokémon fighting ring almost as soon as they set up. Illegal as in unlicensed Pokémon battling with these things called Suppression Collars. Basically, they kept a Pokémon from using its natural powers, and only fighting on brute strength.

But all of the illegal trainers, if you could even call them that, would come to Sam's for a drink or so afterwards, and so they came up with an agreement: neither would get the other in trouble, as long as they kept coming to Sam's for drinks.

That was why Sam never hired anyone. He only trusted himself to keep his mouth shut about it. And me, too, but what would I do? I needed the money, and Sam knew that was enough to keep my mouth shut.

I reached the dumpster completely soaked. So much for it letting up.

With one giant heave, I lobbed the trash bag into the stinking dumpster. With that done, I hurried back inside the bar. I kept towards the back, dripping water on the floor in a place that would be easy to mop up later. I knew Sam would give me hell if I tracked water all over the floor this late at night.

From where I was standing, I could barely see the two men. They were standing now, shakily, the free beers finished.

"So what'll you do now that the Pokémon 's gone?" the winner asked the loser.

The loser shrugged and stumbled, but caught himself. "I'm waiting on an order from Sinnoh, so I'm not too worried. This one's supposed to be a real fighter, unlike that pile of trash."

The winner snickered. "You really showed that piece of trash what's what."

"Yup. Trash goes out with the trash."

Laughing to themselves, the two inebriated men left the bar.

Sam paused a moment before going and locking up for the night. He bolted the large front door and the two windows.

I couldn't move. "Sam," I asked tentatively, "Did you hear what they were saying?"

Sam didn't turn around. "I didn't hear anything, kid. And if you're smart, you didn't hear anything either."

"I know, but—"

Sam walked back to the back of the bar and shook his head. The balding man stood at an impressive six foot three, with muscles to match. He had to, to keep a place like this open. "Ali, you've worked here, no problems, for over a year. Can't you just keep it like that?" He looked out the open door, and then to the pile of water I had created. "Look. Forget about it, and you can borrow my coat to walk home with, okay?"

I sighed. "Fine."

He ruffled my hair. Sam had two kids himself, a son who was off in college in Lavender, and a daughter who married a wealthy Pokémon rancher somewhere in Unova. He never spoke about them much, but he did keep a picture of each in the cash register drawer.

"Here." He threw his coat at me, and I barely caught it. The trench coat was almost floor length on him, and as I put it on, it engulfed my five foot three frame. Sam stifled a laugh. "At least it'll keep you dry. Now go home, kid, and get some sleep."

So I said goodnight to Sam, grabbed my purse, and left the bar once again, back out into the pouring rain.

I walked slowly, the trench coat not really helping against the rain. I thought that, after working for Sam for so long, that I was used to all the cruel shit that went down here. But something about the way those guys were talking bothered me to my core.

Trash…

I don't know what hit me first, the smell of the dumpster of the realization, but either way I jumped. I ran through the rain towards the dumpster, dropped my purse on the ground, covered it with the bulky coat, and hoisted myself up so I could look into the dumpster.

"Hello?" I called out, panic filling my voice.

I thought I saw something move, and that was good enough for me. With an adrenaline-fueled burst of energy, I threw myself into the dumpster.

I landed on the trash bag I had thrown in earlier, and panicked more. What if whatever was in here was under the bag, and I had suffocated it? I moved cautiously, trying not to hurt whatever it was I thought I had saw.

"Is anyone here?"

There was a flash of lightening, and that was when I saw it. Just for a moment, but that was enough. There was something curled up in the opposite corner of the dumpster. In the dim light, I could see a metallic collar around its neck. I crawled across the trash to the corner, and stopped about two feet away from the creature.

"Are you okay?"

It didn't move. My heart sank. It was already dead.

But the more I focused on it, trying not to cry, I could make out its chest moving up and down, slightly. Slightly was enough for me.

"I don't know if you can understand me," I said, crawling closer, "But I'm not going to hurt you." I don't know if the creature understood or not, or if it even heard me, but it did not put up a fight when I quickly picked it up. It was so cold.

I hugged it close to my chest and scrambled out of the dumpster as fast as I could. The fall hurt my knees, but the adrenaline numbed the pain. I set the thing down on the trench coat and made a pathetic attempt to swaddle it. As I did so, I saw it open its eyes once. They were the strangest shade of brown I had ever seen. But then they closed as fast as they opened.

I grabbed my purse and ran home, rain relentlessly falling from the night sky.

Luckily, I only lived about half a mile from Sam's. Half a mile, sure, but half a mile into Celadon, so the neighborhood wasn't quite as sketchy. And somehow, my out of shape self ran all the way there, only stopping outside the door of my apartment to finally catch my breath.

I took the key out of my purse while holding the Pokémon with my other arm. I managed to unlock the door, get inside, and then shut it. I didn't bother locking it.

Instead, I threw my purse to the floor and raced to the bathroom. I set the Pokémon down gently on the shut toilet lid, and began running some hot water from the tap. Gently, I began to clean it up.

That's about all I remember from that night. Somehow, I cleaned up the Pokémon, put it under my bed in the trench coat, and collapsed asleep. But I don't remember it.

Adrenaline's a bitch.