Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm sort of new to writing fiction, so hopefully the story will improve over time….

Disclaimer: I do not own pokemon, obviously.

Fight and Flight

Nicholas awoke with a splitting headache.

For a split second, unfamiliar surroundings almost threw him in panic until memories of last night began to flood back. Then he remembered everything: his father's death, Uncle Frederick's betrayal, the flight from his home, and Wilbur….

Wilbur. The old butler had been there when Nicholas was born, a sickly child who weighed much less than average infants should. After his mother died, Wilbur had been the one to bring Nicholas up, teach him his first words, and calm him down whenever night terrors sent him crying from his bed. Throughout Nicholas's entire life spent in isolation, buried in his books and studies, Wilbur acted as his teacher, friend, and effectively his second father.

Whatever happened to Wilbur, he would not have gone down so easily, Nicholas mused sadly as a small lump rose to his throat. He could've gotten away safely, evaded his pursuers, and perhaps even now, was wandering the streets looking for him….

But he's not here, a more rational part of his mind interjected. The best thing he could do now was to survive, make the best of the situation. Wilbur would not have wanted him to sit here and mope. Nicholas quickly looked around. He remembered running as fast as his legs could carry him after the lift reached the base of the spire. Then he had stumbled across a deserted park with an empty maintenance shed which had been thankfully unlocked…. Brooms, rakes, and hedge clipping tools lying about appeared to corroborate his memory. But this was no proper shelter. He needed to move on, find a place where he could get some food and perhaps someone to help him.

Nicholas felt a weight behind his back and remembered his knapsack. Yanking it open, he found on the top of the pile a set of neatly folded clothes and a pair of sturdy looking shoes that had been crammed into the tight space. A pair of black jeans, thick woolen socks, gray t-shirt, and a dark green hoodie soon lay to the side as Nicholas checked out the rest of the supply. Some food, little cash, a first aid kit, and a flashlight were all that remained.

It wasn't much, but still better than nothing.

And then there was the pokeball. The small sphere felt cold in his hands, but lighter than it looked. Of course, it was by no means Nicholas's first experience with Pokemon; many of the fellow noblemen kept them, and there were also plenty of critters running around his family's estate. Still, his fragile health had made any prolonged contact with the creatures impossible and prevented him from ever personally owning one. Nicholas had resorted instead to reading as much as he could about pokemon, among other topics….until now.

Nicholas enlarged the pokeball and gently thumbed the button for a few seconds, but instead shrunk it down again and stowed it into his pocket. Despite his growing curiosity, this simply wasn't the best time or place to become chummy with his new pokemon. Finding a safe shelter was the priority at the moment, and the proper introduction could wait till later.

After a quick change of clothes, Nicholas cautiously left the shed and briskly jogged across the park. There were only a few bystanders around at this early hour in the morning, who—at least Nicholas hoped—had not noticed him slipping out. Still, he had thrown the hood over his head just in case his uncle's men would be out looking for him. His stuffy old suit and dress shoes had been left behind at the shed; there was no point in taking something he would not need while on the run.

The main streets were more crowded than the park, filled with commuters leaving for work across the city. Cars jammed the roadways and pedestrians constantly streamed in and out of the subways, raising hell of a racket typical to a metropolis. Casually mixing into the crowd, Nicholas suddenly realized this was the first time he was venturing outside the spire. He was so used to seeing things from far above; here, on the top level of Shadowgrave City, everything seemed to tower above him, the skyscrapers, the people, and most of all the colossal spires to the distance that pierced the high clouds. It was intimidating, to say the least; a far cry from the comfort of his room and the plushy chairs he was so fond of using while reading.

Looking around the city sight, Nicholas suddenly spotted a sizeable, white marble building about a block away from him. Despite the distance, he had no trouble reading the large yellow letters emblazoned across the façade.

Metropolitan Police: Precinct 14

Nicholas slowly began to laugh as an idea took form in his head, so simple and perfect that it was hard to believe he hadn't thought of it yet. Of course, he could just go and report the whole incident to the police! A terrible crime had been committed against him that demanded justice; sure, a noble was involved, but so was he. Surely, the police would not refuse a claim brought forth by a nobleman, and one from a major house at that. This entire mess could be settled swiftly in blow; innocent deaths could be avenged, and perhaps he can return home and look for Wilbur….

With sudden confidence, Nicholas quickly made his way across to the police station and pushed himself past the glass doors. The compound was surprisingly largely empty, most of the officers having gone out for early morning traffic and patrol duties around the block. Still, a few policemen were at their posts, lazily shuffling through paperwork while sipping coffee. None of them appeared to have noticed a scrawny teenager walking in.

Nicholas approached one of the officers seated near the reception desk who was absent mindedly scribbling something down. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that he got the man's attention.

"What do ya want, kid?" the officer looked almost bored to the point of being completely apathetic.

"I am Nicholas Caverell, scion of the House Cavarell of the Spire Septus. I am here to report the most grievous crime done against me, and to demand justice."

The policeman briefly stared at Nicholas with a skeptical expression. Of course, it didn't help that he didn't exactly look like a nobleman at the moment; with his current getup, Nicholas looked more like an unruly teenager with a penchant for poorly coordinated pranks. Meeting the man's gaze, Nicholas began to wish he hadn't left his suit behind at the park shed.

"All right then, young master Cavarell. Let me take you to the captain's office. If you'll follow me this way…."

Nicholas blinked. The policeman was rising from his seat, the look of skepticism replaced by a friendly grin. As he followed the man down the hall, Nicholas silently breathed a sigh of relief. The end of this nightmare seemed close at hand.

"….Well, this is a serious accusation you're bringing up, master Cavarell. The man you're accusing is an outstanding pillar in our community, and a nobleman at that."

The air was almost frigid in the interview room, although a battered old heater stood at the corner. The police captain, a portly balding man in his forties, drummed his fingers across the desk as he gazed at Nicholas sitting across from him. A steaming cup of tea lay in front of the boy, quite forgotten at the present moment.

"But, sir, it's true! I would never lie about something like this!"

"I understand your anxiety, master Caverell, but this sort of….scandalous affair merits some investigation beforehand. I can't just have my men charging up the spire based on a single claim-"

"My father's loyal servants were killed only last night, captain," Nicholas burst out indignantly. "And my closest friend sacrificed himself so I could make my escape. I will not be going anywhere until some justice has been done!"

The captain stared at the angry teen for a moment, and sighed in resignation.

"I'll need to speak to my superiors about this, then. Why don't you just wait here while I step outside and make a few calls?"

"Thank you, captain. I very much appreciate your support."

Nicholas scowled faintly as the captain left the room, closing the door behind him. In truth, he had been half-expecting an instant cooperation from the police. After all, it was an open secret around the spires that the police always catered to the nobles' every whim. Even the police commissioner himself had been present at his father's parties several times, always smiling and offering honeyed flatteries. So why couldn't he receive the same treatment? Perhaps he lacked the same natural charisma his father or his uncle possessed in abundance.

Once again, Nicholas realized with sadness how unlike he was from his own father.

Caught in his own musings, Nicholas unconsciously reached for his tea until he remembered too late how hot the mug was. A splash of hot tea sloshed over the side and onto his pants as he let go of the cup with a loud clatter. With a sigh, Nicholas left his seat and headed for the door. Maybe he could find some tissues in the restroom to clean himself up.

As he opened the door, Nicholas found himself staring at the captain speaking into his cell phone, in the middle of the sentence that froze him to the spot.

"Yes, my lord Frederick. I have the boy right here at the station. I'll have my men bring him right up-"

The man, having sensed Nicholas's presence stopped, turned, and gaped at the teenager standing at the doorway.

Without hesitation, Nicholas took off down the hallway as fast as he could.

"Stop right there! Freeze!"

The captain wheezed out behind him, but the blood rushing through Nicholas's head damped his hearing all except to his own panicked inner voice. How could this be happening? But yet, how could he have not expected this? His uncle had already ensnared the police force in his iron grip, turning them into his militia force. There was nowhere to turn now; it was now either flight or….worse.

To Nicholas's horror, two officers stepped into the hallway in front to block his escape. Behind him, the captain ran up huffing flanked by two more officers. As far as he could see, Nicholas saw no other ways to run.

"Let's not make this hard, kid," captain drawled icily. "The more you resist, the uglier this is going to get. So what's it gonna be?"

"Why don't I just grab him, captain? That way we can all go home easy and collect that reward Lord Frederick promised us!"

On the police officers rushed forward, his arms outstretched as if to make a strong grab. Nicholas involuntarily cringed, bracing himself for the impending assault….when something suddenly burst forth from his pocket with a loud pop, a flash of white light that instantly formed something solid, moving, and very much alive.

He had completely forgotten about the pokeball in his pocket.

A small but lithe body, covered in black fur; sharp narrow eyes with pointy ears and a feather-like tail; all topped with a pair of wicked looking claws….Nicholas barely had time to register all the details before the pokemon savagely launched itself against the nearest policeman, who fell back yelling out in surprise and fear.

A Sneasel. His father had given a Sneasel for his birthday.

With a fierce snarl, the dark weasel struck the man across his face with a resounding thwack, sending him stumbling over. Even before he hit the floor, Sneasel swiftly placed himself between Nicholas and the rest of his assailants, its claws poised for another attack. Still, even as the captain and his men backed away, the pokemon remained on the spot and instead shot a questioning backward glance at Nicholas.

With a jolt, Nicholas suddenly realized that the Sneasel—his Sneasel now, actually—was expecting commands. Even amidst panic, he managed to remember some of the moves it would know. Still, to order a pokemon to attack human beings….

The sight of the policemen drawing out their own pokeballs shattered his reservation into pieces.

"Sneasel, freeze their pokeballs with icy wind!"

The weasel pokemon took in a deep breath, puffing its chest before expelling a gale of ice from its mouth. In a flash, the policemen found their pokeballs frozen to their hands, encased in thick blocks of ice. Seizing his chance, Nicholas darted towards the nearest unguarded door. His assailants tried to give a clumsy chase in vain, made impossible by heavy ice chunks stuck to their hands. Shouts of empty threats followed Nicholas as he slipped past the door, when something suddenly grabbed him from behind. With a yelp, Nicholas turned to see his Sneasel latched onto his shoulder, looking quite unhappy. In his hurry, he had forgotten to recall his pokemon.

"Err….sorry about that," Nicholas muttered sheepishly as sneasel gave him a peeved glance. Obviously, ditching your new pokemon and running would not be the best way to make a fine first impression, he berated himself.

"Okay, Sneasel. Why don't you….use that icy wind on that door behind us, seal it shut so no one can get through? And—oh, would you please stop giving me that look? I really didn't mean to leave you behind like that!"

With a classic you-owe-me look, Sneasel nevertheless turned to administer a healthy dose of icy wind around the crack of the door and freezing it shut. It would take some time before the incompetent policemen could break the door down, if they could somehow find a way to defrost their hands. Honestly, how those lazy bums got the jobs he would never know—

"Hey, nice job whopping those idiots, sunshine~"

Nicholas jumped. Looking around, he found himself looking down a long corridor lined with jail cells. It looked completely deserted….except for the nearest one occupied by a teenage girl who was smiling at him.

She appeared be around Nicholas's age, with a shoulder length, straight brown hair, caramel eyes framed by black rimmed glasses. The girl was wearing an orange and black checkered hoodie that was kept open to reveal a black tank top, black shorts, and yellow Converse sneakers.

"Oh, don't be such a scaredy cat! I'm not going to bite….probably," the girl out a playful giggle. "Now, if you're done wetting your pants, little boy, why don't you be a doll and fetch me those keys hanging on the wall over there?"

Nicholas instantly spotted a ring of keys hanging on a nail on the far wall, next to a desk and a large cabinet. Though wary, he nevertheless went over to pick them up; first, the girl seemed relatively harmless and friendly, and second, he was all too happy to free anyone those traitorous policemen had locked up.

It took a couple tries before the cell door opened with a loud clang. Before Nicholas could say anything, the girl ran out and immediately rushed over to the cabinet, which she began to rummage through. Nicholas stood by dumbly as papers and clips rained around him.

The girl proceeded to extract a backpack and an mp3 player with a large headphone attached, all of which she carefully placed beside her. Then, with a cry of joy, she took out three pokeballs before her.

"Oh, my babies! I missed you guys so much!" the girl squealed as she showered the spheres with kisses. "Thank Arceus those meanies didn't do anything awful to you!"

"Um, if you don't mind, I don't think we should be staying around here any longer…" Nicholas ventured.

"Oh, can't you just give a girl a little break? A tearful reunion in progress here, hello?" The girl shot back in a slightly annoyed voice.

"Don't you know how nerve wracking it is to have your pokemon taken away from you, even for a short time? But maybe a little boy like you wouldn't understand~"

"For your record, I'm not a little boy. You don't even look older than I am-"

"Yeah, whatever. Anyways, I guess I owe you a thank you for springing me out. I'm Sammy. Sammy Riverdale." Smiling, the girl extended her hand.

"I'm Nicho—Nick," Nicholas muttered, catching himself at the last moment; it wouldn't be too wise to divulge his full name. He had learned already all too well how appearances can be quite deceiving. "And you're very welcome." He took her hand for a quick shake, briefly wishing that the girl didn't have such a healthy grip.

"Well, then. Nick," the girl—Sammy—said as she quickly put on her belongings and clipped her pokeballs to her side. "I would be glad to talk to you a little more, but like you said, this is not the best time. So, what's the game plan?"

"Game plan? Oh. How about….getting outta here?" Nicholas offered as he looked for a possible exit route. There seemed to be none, other than another door to the other end of the corridor.

"Now you're talkin' sense, little boy! What are we waiting for then? Let's be off!" The girl took off towards the door, leaving Nicholas standing in wake.

"Think it would be a good idea to stick with her, Sneasel?" Nicholas asked quietly to his pokemon on his shoulder.

"Somehow, I have a feeling that trouble's going to follow her wherever she goes. But then again, do I even have a choice right now?"

Sneasel let out what suspiciously sounded like a gleeful chortle.

"Tell me again how long you were locked up in here?" Nicholas asked as he emerged out into the busy streets five minutes later. The crowd was not as dense as before, but there were still enough people to blend into in order to avoid detection.

"Oh, about a couple days. Good thing you sprung me, too, 'cause I was actually beginning to get desperate for a shower," Sammy replied casually. "Did you know those guys actually expected me to do my lady businesses on an open toilet? I bet they just wanted to take a peek, those frakkin' perverts! But then again, it's lucky I didn't eat or drink much over the past few days."

"Really?"

"Yup, I'm usually too focused on my job to take time to eat. I snack, though, as often as I can. By the way, want some gum?" Sammy held out a packet of sickly-pink bubble gums that just screamed sugar.

"No thanks. And exactly what is this 'job' you're talking about?"

"Oh, let's just say I take a few *ahem* sensitive photos that certain people would be happy to have in their possession, or get rid of," Sammy smiled a wicked grin. Ripping open the wrappings, she casually tossed several pieces of gum into her mouth and chewed with a blissful look on her face.

"Of course, in this case, I got a little careless and let those pigs get their hands on me, so—oh dear, that reminds me…."

Sammy quickly slung her backpack around and took out a battered looking camera with a giant lens attached to it. She let out a loud groan after opening its back panel.

"Ah crap! Those idiots took away my film! Probably destroyed and lying littered in some dumpster. A week's work gone just like that! Ibrahim won't be happy at all."

Cursing, Sammy kicked at the ground in frustration.

"Who's Ibrahim?"

"Our boss. You know, the top dog. He organizes everything, looks after us, and makes sure everything's going in the right direction. He's usually cool about messing up, but our finances haven't been so great lately, so I don't know…."

"And by 'us' I mean our gang," she added quickly seeing Nicholas's puzzled expression.

"You belong in a gang?"

"In a matter of speaking. It's not as bad as it sounds. It's not like we go around beating up people we don't like. We're just a bunch of guys trying to make a living around here, you know. Doing what we can, getting what we can. Life around here can sometimes be a bit tough."

The pair had walked for a couple blocks by now, leaving the police station behind and out of sight. So far, there hadn't been any signs of policemen giving chase, to Nicholas's relief. The tight crowd would pose problems for anyone trying to spot them.

"And what about you, Nick? I haven't heard anything about yourself yet. Where are you from?"

"Well, I—" Nicholas started, quickly trying to think of a cover story, when Sammy suddenly blanched.

"Uh oh. Looks like your story might have to wait awhile, Nick. We've got company."

To his alarm, Nicholas saw ahead two patrolmen swiftly weaving their way through the crowd towards them. By the looks on their faces, there was no doubt that they had already spotted him.

"Quick! This way!"

Sammy pulled Nicholas along into a nearby alleyway only to find a tall chain link fence blocking their path. Frowning, Sammy stepped up and rattled the fence to test its strength.

"Hmm, maybe we can just climb over this thing. It doesn't look that high."

"Too late," Nicholas murmured as he saw the patrolmen step into the alleyway after them. Their faces filled with glee upon seeing the teenagers cornered.

"You have no way out, boy! Why don't you just lay down your pokeball and come with us quietly?" One of them taunted. Both men had their pokeballs out, although Nicholas noticed they had no extra ones clipped to their belts.

"Look here guys, can we just talk about this for a sec….?" Sammy stepped forward with hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement."

"Shut up, midget. We have no interest in you, unless you choose to side with the boy here," snapped the other policeman.

Sammy's mouth dropped open in a dumbstruck expression, which quickly replaced with an indignant rage.

"Oh~no. You just did NOT call me a midget! You just had to go there, didn't you, you pig! Well you know what? As a matter of fact, I AM siding with this guy here. I'm making his business my business!"

"Suit yourself. Looks like we might have to thrash the both of you," snarled the policeman as both man released their pokemon with a pop. A Growlithe and a Granbull appeared in front of them, fiercely growling.

"Well, they kinda look like rookies. Probably fresh out of the academy. I think we can take them, Nick," sighed Sammy as she took up one of her pokeballs. "We'll get out of here the old fashioned way: a good ole' pokemon whop-ass-a-thon! You ready?"

"Sure," Nicholas mumbled as he took out Sneasel's pokeball.

"Okay then! Here I come! Let's go, Ombra!"

A white flash burst from Sammy's pokeball, which formed into a big, snarling canine with reddish eyes, black fur and whitish belly: a Mightyena. The dark pokemon was soon joined by a smaller but equally vicious Sneasel.

"Ombra can take care of that Granbull. Your Sneasel should take that Growlithe, but watch out for its fire attacks!" Sammy said as she coolly eyed their opponents' pokemons lunging into battle. "Well then, Ombra, dodge that Granbull's attack and counter with a Take Down!"

The Mightyena barked and proceeded to follow its trainer's order with a practiced elegance. Nicholas could not afford to watch, however, as the foe Growlithe came barreling towards his Sneasel, fangs bared.

"Growlithe, use your ember attack!"

Several sprays of fire burst from the canine's mouth, some of which landed on Sneasel and earning angry hisses.

"Sneasel, just….close the gap and slash him with your claw!"

The weasel pokemon let out a defiant cry and leapt forward. Dodging another spray of ember, it jumped off the side of the building to propel itself upwards, coming down on the Growlithe from above. The two pokemon were instantly locked in fierce melee brawl, fangs against claws. It was not an easy fight, Nicholas noticed with discomfort. Despite Sneasel's ferocity, Growlithe appeared to be somewhat heavier, not to mention the type advantage. In contrast to the deadlock, the fight between Sammy's Mightyena and Granbull on the other hand appeared to be one-sided. Although Granbull tried to clamp down with its strong jaws, Mightyena managed to evade every slow blow and come back with a bodily charge or a bite or two. The purple canine seemed almost exhausted by the ordeal.

"Ombra, finish him off with a crunch!"

Ombra obliged at once by seizing its foe with its sharp teeth followed by vigorous shakes. Granbull slumped to the floor in defeat, whining plaintively.

Meanwhile, the Growlithe had Sneasel pinned down under its body; the weasel was fighting back ferociously though, its paws pushing away the opponent's jaws to prevent a deadly shower of flames. Still, even as the Growlithe strained to redirects its flaming maws towards the pinned enemy, Sneasel finally reeled back one of its paws and gave a vicious slash across the canine's face. The fire pokemon fell back howling in pain, only to be blindsided by charging Ombra, smashed against the wall and knocked out cold.

"That's a wrap, I believe," Sammy said smugly. "Now unless you morons are especially fond of getting pummeled and mauled, I suggest you haul your asses out of here!"

"Don't think this isn't over!" yelled one of the police officers as the duo skipped a hasty retreat with their defeated pokemon. "The police will find you, boy! We have the whole city on a lockdown!"

"They always love to use threatening words, don't they? If only they spent all that time talking to train their pokemon instead…." Sammy muttered scornfully as she recalled Ombra to its pokeball. Nicholas returned Sneasel into the pokeball as well, noting with small anxiety that his pokemon had suffered some injuries from the battle. Despite the victory, he knew that sheer luck had carried the day; if Sammy hadn't been here, victory might have been possible. Obviously, he needed to learn to become a better trainer.

Turning around, Sammy eyed Nicholas with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, Nick. You've done something quite naughty, haven't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"See, the thing is, those policemen usually don't bother tracking down petty criminals like us. They're just too lazy, for one thing, and face it; they know that catching one small crook won't make such a big difference around here. But the police are apparently combing the entire city for you, which means….you're not just any ordinary 'petty criminal'."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Nicholas replied defensively.

"Oh, I don't want to pry," Sammy raised her hand nonchalantly. "And I won't, unless you want to tell me yourself. I'm just saying that it would not be safe for you to be sticking around here."

"But….but I can't just leave the city! The police are always at the gate checkpoints screening who goes in or out."

"Yeah, you won't stand a chance against them. I bet you can't even properly bluff your way past them! Look at you! No offense, but your entire body language just screams 'clumsy'. They'll have you captured and gutted within days." Sammy chuckled.

As much as he wanted to protest, Nicholas knew she was right. He had never left the cloistered spire his entire life; he wouldn't last a day in the city proper knowing absolutely nothing about survival. What could he do? Where could he go?

"Perhaps, I could offer a little help. I mean I do owe you for springing me earlier, after all."

Nicholas stared incredulously. From Sammy's expression alone, however, he knew she was being completely serious.

"How? The police are everywhere! You heard what that man said."

"Then we go someplace where the police can't reach us, someplace where every policeman dreads to venture…."

"What are you talking about? What place?"

Sammy's smile was at once sinister and triumphant.

"Why, none other than the place I come from, little boy…..the undercity."

Other OCs will appear in the following chapter, so please be patient….R&R!