Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its content.


A bowl of food sat in a small, plastic bowl next to me. Or rather, it had, until I'd kicked it and spewed the junk all over the floor.

Three days spent in the human abode found me still huddled in my corner, facing the wall.

I'd thought about escaping once or twice but hadn't actually done so. The four walls around me were unfamiliar. I felt caged, trapped. Could the walls be knocked down? Could the windows be broken? I didn't know but I had no inner fire large enough yet to try. It was nothing but embers, but don't mistake me. Those embers were lying in wait for a gust of wind to flare them up. I long for the scent of the world beyond the window, but no smell leaks through. If I could just smell freedom I'm sure I could summon enough willpower to try escaping, but until then I must lie in wait.

And it still hasn't sunk in yet that I . . . I, Rayquaza, have a Poke Ball. My mind is a blank. It's too devoid of any thought or reason or care to do much anything other than sleep. A few times my Rage was triggered randomly, but I remember nothing of those moments. The only proof I have of it is the torn-up Couch, some lopsided pictures, and a few blotchy bruises dotting my body.

Aldemar was in the midst of setting some pictures straight while Damion packed stuffing back into The Couch. The old man looked around at the room, annoyed. "Damion, can't you put it in its damn ball? Excuse my French."

The boy hesitated. "I'd rather not. It doesn't seem the type to enjoy being in one."

"It doesn't seem the type to enjoy anything," Aldemar grumbled. He righted a frame and looked at me, huddled in my corner. "Damion, go get those things my Pokemon used to like. Maybe he'll enjoy them. They might get him to do something other than bring down the house," he added under his breath.

Damion picked the last of the stuffing off the floor, shoved it into The Couch, and disappeared down one of the adjoining halls. I glared around the room, at the fruit pictures, at the ugly walls, at whatever my eyes fell on. I glared at them as if they would incinerate if I stared at them hard enough. Lord was on his perch, cawing happily as Aldemar paused and passed a hand over his feathers.

Fool. I lifted my lips in a snarl at the bird, but it paid no attention. I was sick of it not paying attention. Like I was ridiculous and not worth wasting time over.

I growled at Lord sharply as a warning. When it swiveled its head around to stare at me, I nodded in approval and continued to let my gaze wander around the room.

Damion reentered the room, carrying a box. As he drew nearer to me I snarled, daring him to come closer. But before he got dangerously close he set the box down and slid it across the hardwood floor to me. "Here you go." He returned to working on The Couch. I completely ignored the box and looked at anything but it.

The boy kept glancing back at me to see if I was doing anything. Finally he gave a sigh and left his work again, sitting on the other side of the box from me. I watched him warily. "Here, this is what you do." He reached inside and pulled out two cube-shaped objects, and stacked them on the floor.

I gaped at his insolence as he and Aldemar took a break in the kitchen and left me in the room. "RAYQUAZA DOES NOT PLAY WITH BLOCKS!" I roared, jumping up and down and waving my arms wildly. How dare he undermine my reputation so! Had he no respect? I command respect! I demand it and if anyone dares to refuse me they will perish!

My eyes began to glow with the familiar, reddish tint of Rage, and I leaped after them but was intercepted by Lord. He and I rolled on the floor, and when we stopped rolling he was on top.

"Let me go!" I snapped.

"No!" Lord clicked its beak in irritation. "I thought that maybe you would have calmed down by now, but you haven't, no, no!"

"He tried to make me play with blocks!" I cried.

"I'm not talking about now," Lord barked. "I'm talking about since the woods. That was almost two weeks ago and instead of getting better, your Rage is getting worse."

"My Rage is getting stronger," I snarled.

"And that's precisely the problem, yup, yup," Lord growled. "Look at your bruises. Those are not from hitting yourself on The Couch or walls. Those bruises were given to you by Rage. It's going to destroy you if you can't calm down and learn to control it."

"What do you care?" I screeched.

"Because you are Damion's Pokemon now!" Lord snapped its beak dangerously close to my ear and I flinched—not at it snapping at me, I wasn't afraid of that, but at its words.

You are Damion's Pokemon now.

You are Damion's.

I belong to him.

"No I don't!" I wailed. "I'm not caught! I'm not!"

Captivity.

Alliance.

"I'm not! I'm not!"

I didn't even notice when Lord stepped off of me. It began to give me directions for how to control the move—it recommended simply not to use it at all until I was strong enough to control it, though for that to work I would have to learn other attacks.

"Your attacks are your tools of the trade, and you're only as good as they are," it explained in a gentler tone. "That move is too powerful for you. You need to lock it away for now and use something you're ready for. Don't worry, as you grow you'll develop and learn stronger attacks. Just remember to respect your limits."

Hardly taking in a word it said, I curled myself into a ball and turned away so it could only see my back. Limits? I'd never had limits before. Limits made you weak. Angry tears leaked out. Weakness.

My insides felt cold, like I was slowly being shrouded in a blanket of ice. I felt like my insides were shriveling in the freeze. I hugged myself to keep the warmth in.

Controlled.

Zombie. That's what all human-controlled Pokemon are, after all. Not free to make their own decisions. Completely devoid of thought, only able to do as the Trainer ordered.

The skies—gone.

Freedom—gone.

Strength, power—gone.

Will . . . where was my will?

I could still feel it in my chest—that pile of embers. But where was the wind that could ignite it, flare it into a flame?

"Ray?" Someone lightly brushed my back.

The contact woke me from my reverie. I looked to see who had dared touched me. Damion stood above me, holding the door handle.

He smiled sadly at me, apparently sensing my distress. "Come on, Ray," he said gently. "We're leaving in a few days. We need to get to the Mart for supplies." He looked at me, curled on the floor. "And Ray, you need to get outside. I'm sorry for keeping you cooped up. That's my fault. No wonder you're so depressed."

And he opened the door.

The scent of the world beyond the door washed over me. The wind seemed to flare up the ashes of my will. It burned brightly now. I breathed deeply, allowing the wind to break upon me and fan at my inner fire, drinking in the mingling scents of grass and air. I drank in even the stench of humans.

Rejuvenated, I wondered how I could have possibly allowed myself to sink so low into depression. My guard had been down. I shuddered, remembering the coldness from moments before, like icy claws were penetrating my heart. My guard couldn't be down. It had to be up. I am Rayquaza, I reminded myself.

Once the scents of the outside had died down and I could think clearly, I realized that this was it. I could escape. Freedom was just beyond the doorway.

I took the chance, leaping to my feet and bolting to the doorway. I tripped over the steps as I ran down them, and then I waddled up the street as fast as my legs could carry me.

But something zapped me from behind and I knew no more.

The next thing I knew I was back on the porch steps. My head was dizzy, like it had been put to sleep for years.

When my head cleared I looked around and saw Damion standing over me. In his hand was my Poke Ball.

I glared at him. No Poke Ball was going to stop me. I jumped down the steps again. Again, I was zapped into the Poke Ball. And again, the next thing I knew after being "returned" to the ball was standing at Damion's feet.

"Come on, Ray," Damion said, hiding a smile. He jumped down the steps and started a leisurely walk down the street. I took the opposite direction. Again I was returned to the ball, and again I was released at his feet.

Angry now, I decided to just kill the human. I jumped at his face, tiny teeth extended, ready to use Rage if I must. But a few bashes of Bagon's hardened head ought to be enough.

"Return."

And the process was repeated over again.

This time when I found myself outside the ball I was so dizzy I could hardly stand. Being in a Poke Ball was like going to sleep for years. When you wake up you have no idea where you are or how you got there until your head clears and you get a good look around.

I'm not stupid, and apparently neither was this boy (though I hate to admit it). Running away or killing him wasn't going to be an option. At least, not as long as he had the Poke Ball.

Damion was still walking down the street. I crept up behind him and jumped, aiming for the arm with the Poke Ball. "Agh," Damion grunted, unable to get a good angle on me before I knocked the ball out of his hand.

I roared in triumph and waddled quickly to the ball, snatching it up. I'd won! Now it had to be destroyed! Wanting to savor every moment of cracking this cursed ball open and smashing it to pieces, I opened my jaws wide and bit down on it as hard as I could.

I realized two things in the moment that followed. Firstly, Poke Balls are like steel. I nearly broke my jaw.

Secondly, it was the most heavenly feeling I'd had in quite awhile.

I groaned in relief. Until that moment, I hadn't known exactly how much my jaws had hurt, had been aching for something to chew on. It felt so good. I continued to gnaw at the ball.

Damion knelt down and gently took the ball in one hand. Then he wriggled his fingers against my belly. I shrieked and fell over backwards. Was he tickling me?

When I'd opened my mouth to shriek he'd grabbed the ball from me. Now I was rubbing my belly, trying to get the tingly feeling to go away. Before I could react, the boy held my mouth open with his hands and peered inside. "Huh. Your teeth have come in. No wonder you want something to chew on." He poked one of the larger fangs protruding from the back of my mouth with a finger. "You'll have a nasty Bite attack," he observed. Then he pocketed the Poke Ball, but still kept his hand in the pocket should he need it.

I didn't want to follow him but I couldn't stay behind or he'd just put me back in that hateful ball. So, I got in front of him. Being in the lead didn't help much, but at least I felt more in control. I refused to look at the boy.

I heard a laugh behind me and Damion spoke. "You're spirited. I like that." When I gave no indication that I'd paid attention, he fell silent.

Then he spoke again. "You know, I could've become a Trainer six years ago. That's when I was old enough to get my first Pokemon and leave. But I didn't want to. I'm sure that if you get a Pokemon from the lab you eventually form a bond with it, but . . . I dunno. It just seems weird to just walk up one day and receive your life partner from a laboratory. I decided to wait for a Pokemon that I felt a connection with from the start."

I continued to ignore him as I headed down the road. There were human abodes that looked exactly the same rising up on either side of me, blocking out large chunks of the sky. It made me angry. I made note to come back and destroy them whenever I could.

One abode, though, stood out from the others. Not because of the abode itself, but because of the human in its driveway. It was a boy about Damion's age.

But he only had one arm.

He was bouncing a ball on the pavement with his single arm and throwing the ball to the basket. A basketball.

"Hey, Dante!" Damion called. "Pass it here." He held up a hand, indicating that he wanted the ball.

Dante looked up and saw him. He nodded and threw the ball to Damion, who caught it. Damion ran over to the basket, dribbling the ball at his side, and threw it up to the hoop. It hit the board behind the hoop and fell to the ground.

"Nice shot," Dante said, even thought Damion had missed. He was grinning from ear to ear as Damion passed the ball back. Damion noticed the smile and seemed somewhat surprised.

"You seem to be in a better mood than usual," he joked. I could tell from his tone that he was only half-kidding with the other boy.

Dante shrugged. "We're going on a family vacation in a few days. It's great. We've been planning it for weeks. Weeks, and my parents haven't canceled it yet. I think we may actually go on this one."

Damion shot the ball again, but he missed the hoop again. He fetched the ball as it bounced into the road and threw it back to Dante, who managed to catch it with his single hand. As Damion started down the street again, he called, "Have fun on the vacation."

Dante nodded his thanks and went back to playing with the basketball.

"That's Dante," Damion explained to me once we were out of earshot. "He lost his arm years ago, when he was hit by a truck . . . His parents are never home because of their work, so he spends all his time playing basketball. It's cool that they get to spend some time together on the vacation. I'm sure he's more excited about it than he's letting on. Ray, this way." He turned right down another road. Grumbling, I rushed to get back in front of him to maintain my position. The subject of Dante was dropped; now we had to deal with the Mart.

He stopped in front of a small, square building with a blue roof and Poke Ball designs plastered all over the door and two windows. That alone made me wary of this place. There were symbols on a banner over the door that traced "MART", though I couldn't read it. The glass door was propped open to let the breeze sweep through the place on the hot, summer day. Damion went inside, and I cautiously followed.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. I wrinkled my nose as the scents of twenty different types of Poke food wormed their way up my nose. I sneezed and rubbed my nose.

There was a man at the counter that looked up upon our entrance. "Hello, Damion. What can I do for you?" Before Damion could answer, the man saw me and smiled. "Ah, you finally found one. Do I finally get to sell you supplies for a journey?"

"Yes, sir," said Damion.

The man left the counter and led Damion down one of the aisles. I looked around me. There were huge walls all about the room, covered with hundreds of objects that I'd never seen before. To distract myself from the awful smell, I began to inspect the objects.

I heard Damion and the man—Mr. Grocer was apparently his name—talking from a few aisles down about items like tents, cooking tools, Poke Balls, and food and blankets and other items that made no sense to me. Their words just confused me, so I blocked them out as I started inspecting various objects.

Most of what was on my aisle were the funny smelling food bags. Wondering if there was any way to block out the smell, I opened one of the bags and ate one of the chunky contents. It tasted like feet and I spat it back out, and put the bag back with a shudder. But that small taste had reminded me of how hungry I was. My belly rumbled.

So I opened the next bag and tested its contents. It was even nastier than the first.

It took several more bags until I found a decent one, and I began to eat it hungrily. I was halfway finished when the two humans arrived at my aisle.

"Aaahh!" Mr. Grocer cried. "What's it doing with my products?"

Damion knelt by me and gently tried to take the bag. I wouldn't let go. It was my bag.

He stopped trying to take it, and rather looked at some of the lettering on the bag. "'Special recipes will make this taste to your Pokemon like Grumpig'." He shrugged and let go of my bag, then added a few more identical ones from the shelves to the pile of stuff he was holding. "I'll take these as well as the one Ray's already eaten."

Grumbling, Mr. Grocer retreated to the counter and Damion followed. There was a mountain of stuff. I watched them while I chewed. I felt better now that my belly was full.

When they were through with the transaction, Mr. Grocer allowed Damion to take one of the shopping carts with him so he could carry all the stuff. Before we left, he reached into one of the bags and pulled out an object that he handed to me. "Try chewing on that."

It was shaped like a Poke Ball. Remembering the relief I'd had from earlier, I bit down on it as hard as I could. It wasn't as hard as a Poke Ball, but squeezable, so it didn't hurt my jaw as much. And it squeaked. I popped it out of my mouth and glared at it. Why was it squeaking? When I turned it over and still couldn't find the source, I shrugged and stuck it back in.

We passed Dante again, and he was still playing basketball. He looked up and gave a short wave as we walked by. Damion returned the wave, and we headed back to the abode.

I worked on my squeaking, chewy thing the whole way. It amused me not only because it felt good, but it drove Aldemar and Damion crazy for the rest of the night. Aldemar wanted to throttle me for it and Damion claimed to regret buying the stupid thing. Even Lord hid his head under his wing to escape the noise. They tried to take it from me a few times but I wouldn't surrender it.

I chewed on it late into the night, until Damion threatened to put me in the Poke Ball. Only then did I stop.

Stupid human.


A/N: The "RAYQUAZA DOES NOT PLAY WITH BLOCKS!" is credited to ScytheRider.