Chapter Two: Agony

WHOOSH!

I have time to think of only two words before I'm struck by Hydro Pump.

Holy shit!

Given that these could be the very last words I think before my untimely death, I'm somewhat disappointed with their quality. I'd hoped to come up with something eloquent, something witty perhaps. At the very least something sarcastic. But, alas, no.

Bloody typical.

Then, in an instant, almost too quick for the human eye to register the movement, the stream of water strikes me.

KA-BLAM!

Instantly, the pain is too much for me to bear. It feels like my chest is being crushed by a hundred-tonne tank. I can feel my ribs breaking, one by one. I gasp, splutter, wheeze, choke. Desperate to do anything that will get air into my lungs. Then, everything goes black.


Red and Blue.

Yin and yang.

Both from Pallet Town.

Although, even as young kids, we were dreamers. We both craved something bigger, something better, something different from the norm.

Both survivors of the war which ravaged Kanto.

A war in which so many others lost their lives. A war which stole Blue's parents, stole my father and- perhaps worst of all- stole our innocence.

Both lost souls, finding our meaning, our identity, our EVERYTHING, through our Pokemon.

Since we chose our very first Pokemon from the Professor, we have lived and breathed for them. We are forever and irrevocably bonded with them. And, God above, we wouldn't have it any other way.

Both tempted by the raw, awesome power of Team Rocket.

And, yet, we both stayed true to ourselves. Stayed true to our ultimate ambition. Stayed on that rockiest of paths, the road to becoming the greatest Pokemon trainer of all-time. And now we're both so bloody close.

Yet both with more regrets than we can name…

That night.

Well, what can I say about it?

Let's start with this: it never should have happened.

It was after our duel in Lavender Town. We'd fought an incredibly intense battle. I'd managed to win, but only just. Charmander had just evolved, and my fresh faced Chameleon put in a spellbinding performance to batter Blue's team into submission, virtually single-handedly.

It had been wrong. It had all been so bloody wrong.

Blue's Raticate, a Pokemon he'd nurtured since he'd caught it as a tiny Rattata on Route 1, had passed away on the SS Anne. Nobody was to blame- there had been overcrowding on the luxury liner, and Blue couldn't get off the ship to get Raticate the aid he so desperately needed. It was tragic, yes, heartbreaking even. But it was an accident. And, yet, Blue blamed himself.

He never could accept fate, never accept that some things are just out of the control of us mere humans.

He had come to bury his Raticate at the Pokémon Tower. He'd let his guard down emotionally. I had, too. Any friend would have been there for him.

Wouldn't they?

Just thinking about it sends a tingle through my body, although it's a mere fraction of the electricity that had passed between us that night.

Red and Blue.

Yin and yang.

We're trainers. We live for our Pokemon. We travel alone, we fight alone and we'll die alone. Can it get lonely sometimes? Sure. But it's the life we love, the life we lead and, ultimately, the ONLY life for us.

It never should have happened. And it never will again.

Something about this thought brings me, kicking and screaming, back to the brutal reality of excruciating pain. I'm here again, outside the gates to the Hall of Fame, on the cold, wet floor. I'm screaming, crying out with all of my heart, but only inside my head. Even in this state, I don't want to give Blue the satisfaction of screaming out loud. As I near the end though, somehow I'm able to think logically. And, as I regain my cognitive thought process, I have a revelation.

There's always a way out.

Blastoise can't have attack forever. Even a Pokemon at this incredible level cannot attack indefinitely, not without burning itself out. Eventually, Blastoise will reach a point where it has no energy left. If I can just survive for the moment, this very second, right here right now, then who knows? There may just be a chance.

There's gotta be a chance.

I lay there, clinging on to life with the very tips of my fingers.

I am pain.

I am agony.

I am hell.

God only knows for how long I lie here. It could be a second, could be hours, could be days. I have no clue. All I know is that every second feels like it's obliterating part of my soul, piece after piece. And- then- it's over. I don't feel anything anymore. My body's so numb that I don't even know whether I'm alive or not. As I make to pinch myself, to check if I'm alive, I realise I don't have to. My body is absolutely soaked to the bone.

Still breathing, then.

Pulling together every last scrap of energy I have left, and it's probably even less than one HP at this point, I stand up. Suddenly, I feel reenergised. I've been so close to the brink- indeed, at this very moment I teeter dangerously close to the edge of life and death- that a strange sense of calm overtakes me.

'BLUE!' I yell, with all my might. I don't know where he is, but I can sense him. I know he's close.

I always bloody know.

'Get your ass back over here'.


To be continued tomorrow.