The mayor had a pouchy face and thick black bristles sticking out of his nose. Ninetales stared up at his image, reproduced ten times across the television screens in the shop window. The colour and contrast varied slightly between them: here the mayor had a slightly more purple hue; there the difference between his natural hair and his toupee was more pronounced.

What an ugly bastard thought the ninetales.

"And what are you going to do about the problem with strays?" an off-screen reporter asked him. The sound was muffled through the window, but the ninetales could hear the mayors blustering reply: "I'm going to clean up the streets! Teams of catchers will be out by the end of the day, making our city safe again."

The ninetales snorted and walked away. A kid with an ice-cream stopped to stare at him, reaching out a grubby hand, and he bared his teeth. She began to cry.

Ignoring her, Ninetales sauntered around a corner into his alley. Here was his bed; a mossy patch of bitumen, and his things; a half-gnawed bone and a dirty blanket. Better than being with Brandy he thought. A low breeze caressed his matted fur.

Someone shouted from the end of the lane. Ninetales swivelled around and saw the kid with the ice-cream, her angry mother beside her. The woman held out a pokeball, swung her arm back. Ninetales stood his ground.

A rhydon materialised from the red and white static. Ninetales turned and fled.

He could hear the pounding of massive feet behind him. Skidding around a corner, he dashed up a metal fire escape, not sure where he was heading. His scruffy tails dragged along the brick wall.

In the alley below the rhydon roared. Without pausing Ninetales leapt, sailing through the air towards the next building – and fell. Air whistled through his ears, and he landed with a smack in an empty skip. The metal container rattled and before he could scramble up the sides the lid slammed shut. Darkness engulfed him. The bin had a damp, rotting-vegetable smell.

"Where'd he go, rhydon?"

The rhydon roared, stomped around. Ninetales was panting, trying not to panic.

"He can't have gone far."

Ninetales heard the sound of large nostrils sniffing the air. He tensed his muscles, ready to spring. There was a long pause in which he could hear traffic on the main road.

"Oh well. I guess the mayor's catchers will round him up soon. Come on."

There was the decrescendo sound of the rhydon being returned to its ball, and then silence.

Ninetales stood on his hind legs, splaying his tails out beneath him for balance, and pushed his head against the top of the skip. It didn't move. He gritted his teeth, shoved with all his might; still it wouldn't budge.

Shit he thought. Shit shit shit.

He tried to steady his breathing, pacing circles in the stinky garbage juice.

How much oxygen is in here? Oh crap. What happens if the humans find me in the morning, and I'm not awake? And then the even more terrifying thought: What if nobody finds me at all?

There was a tiny crack of light around the rim of the bin. Ninetales stood and pressed his eyes against it, but couldn't see anything except a strip of blurry grey.

"Need some help?" said a voice outside.

Ninetales jumped, banging his head on the metal. Ouch. "Who's there?" he growled.

"A friend," said the voice.

"A liar," said Ninetales.

"Do you want me to get you out or not?"

Ninetales steadied himself, crouched in the corner ready to attack. "Go ahead."

The lid swung open. Ninetales blinked in the sudden sunlight. With a neat bound he cleared the top of the skip and landed on the bitumen, turning circles to find his interlocutor. The alley was deserted.

"Up here," the voice said.

Ninetales tensed, looked up, and saw a growlithe hanging over the edge of the fire escape. She had a rope beneath one paw; it's other end was tied to the skip lid.

"How did you get that open?" Ninetales asked.

The growlithe smiled. "Pulled the rope against this bar," she said, tapping the metal cage of the stairs. "Easier to lift that way, less strength required."

"You trapped me in there," growled Ninetales.

"Nothing of the sort," she cried, standing up. "Pokemon get stuck in there all the time. I help them out."

Ninetales eyed her suspiciously. "And how did you know to do that thing, with the rope?" he asked, nodding towards the skip.

"Well, not to brag, but I used to be a police dog." She wagged her plumed tail back and forth.

"Used to be?"

"Hey, let's not talk about that right now," she said, breaking his gaze and staring back down the alley.

Ninetales cocked an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"Catchers," she said, gesturing with her chin. "Behind you."

Ninetales turned sharply. Two men stood at the end of the alley, nets in hand.

Shit he thought. Shit and more shit.