The Hunter: A Stranger in Cerulean Seas


It was the hour of the lycanroc when the stranger emerged from the trees strewn across Route 9. He wore a dusty brown cloak over his impressive frame, white hair tied back in a southern Kantonian style. Occasionally peering into his antique pokétch, he walked at a brisk pace through the patches of tall grass, silent but for the occasionally deep intake of breath. His yellow eyes seemed to glow underneath the night sky. Clouds were covering the stars, which added to his sense of illusion. It wasn't long before the soft earth beneath him turned to paved roads as he reentered civilisation for the first time in weeks.

The Violet Sector of Cerulean City was a sharp contrast to its romantic capes and vibrant sunsets. One would not bat an eye to the dozens of hungry children squeezing past trucks of stale bread and rotten fruit, hoping to sneak off with a morsel. Nor would any decent woman pass by the alleyways of the Violet Sector, with its famous red lights. No, Cerulean was a carnivine flytrap for tourists across the land, eager to chew up both the unsuspecting and the ignorant. The Violet Sector was merely its deepest and darkest pit.

It was no small wonder that such a place would attract someone like Gerald. After all, rich men of respectable social standing would never dare to invite a Hunter into their own homes, so full of prying eyes and loose tongues. No, it was better for them to meet in a pleasure house, or a bar with as few witnesses as possible to their business. Such was the case with Monsieur Gabriel, whose left hand was lingering close to that of a serving girl's behind.

"You called?" Gerald asked, stepping out through the front door. At the sight of the hunter, with his long white hair and the glistening scars across his face, the girl scurried away from Gabriel and his wandering fingers.

Another girl, this one older and more fearless, walked over with two tankards of a frothy beer. Gerald thanked her as she too made her way back to her station.

"Ehem, yes. I called you. Yes, I did," Gabriel said, straightening out his jacket. He was in his fifties, as plump and fair skinned as any of the Cerulean elite. If Gerald gave any notice to the other man's declining physical state, he made no indication of it. "I have a job for you, Hunter."

"How much?"

"Now hold on, let me tell you what I know about-"

"You want me to find out what's going on in that cave north of here. If it's a rogue pokemon, you want me to kill it. If I'm missing anything, feel free to fill me in on the blanks," Gerald said.

Gabriel's face lost a few shades of colour as it drained from his face. He paused for a moment, lips flapping about in an attempt to find some response. Eventually, he just made a tight grimace and nodded in confirmation. "Yes. It's been a huge issue. Hikers have gone missing, only to show up with their limbs detached. Why, just last week a camper boy was found with his skull bashed in."

"If it's this close to the city, why hasn't the gym leader taken care of it?" Gerald asked.

"She's too young to handle this. With the pokemon she has right now, she'd be killed on the spot," Gabriel said. "Your job is to kill monsters. I'm ordering you to kill this monster, Hunter."

Gerald just smiled, his lips parting to reveal sharp teeth eerily resembling that of a wolf's. "You seem to care an awful lot about the gym leader's wellbeing, to part with good money to take care of her problems."

"That's none of your concern. Now, will you do this job?"

"Well it depends. How much are you paying?" Gerald asked.

Gabriel removed a wallet from his back pocket, a luxury purse made of an abnormally coloured ekan's skin. From within, he drew out a few bills and tossed them onto the table between them. "5,000 credits."

"I could earn that much from battling," Gerald said.

"No you couldn't. We both know that Hunters are forbidden from owning pokeballs, let alone battling. You'll take this money and then you will go north to take care of my monster," Gabriel spat. Though he attempted to put on a strong tone, his eyes betrayed the fear in the man. Fear of the Hunters and their legendary vindictiveness.

Gerald just grunted, scooping up the bills and stashing them inside of his tauros-hide jacket. "Another 5,000 once I'm done killing the thing. I'll bring you its head."

"NO! I mean, uh, that won't be necessary. I trust that the Hunters' Guild will be fair and honourable with our agreement. If you run off with my money, then I will know within a week," Gabriel said. With his end of the bargain held up for the time being, his eyes began to wander back to the serving girl from before.

"Right. Honour," Gerald smiled dryly. After finishing the last of his beer, he began to stand up. "Well if that's all…"

"Wait. The most important thing. Your name. What is it?" Gabriel asked.

"Gerald."

"Of Fuchsia, I'm assuming. Judging from your accent."

"Yes," Gerald replied. His answer was a second delayed, as though he were reciting an awkward response. Gabriel ignored this, still focusing on the lass behind the bar. He was fidgeting with his cloak, which appeared to be missing a cord to keep it in place.

"Well then, Gerald of Fuchsia. If you're getting paid 10,000 credits to do this job, then I suggest you finish it up as soon as you can. No waiting around, hoping someone else pays you as well," Gabriel guffawed, signalling for the serving girl to return with more booze.

Gerald left the establishment, his unusually sensitive nose scrunching up at the smell of old piss and hard spirits that permeated throughout. His footsteps made barely a sound against the faded cobble and the sword on his back gleamed silver in the faint moonlight of the alleyways. The red lanterns of the Violet Sector seemed to flicker as he walked past, patrons and prostitutes alike feeling a chill breeze in his passing.

"Hmm… Wind's howling."


As the Hunter with long white hair stood on the famous Nugget Bridge, he noticed the silhouette of someone tailing him out of the corner of his eye. Hand on the pommel of his blade, he relaxed as a familiar voice called out to him.

"Gerald, you inbred! Fancy running into you here," the joyful chirp of his friend, Dandruff, pierced the otherwise quiet of midnight. "How have you been?"

"I've been well, Dandruff," the Hunter chuckled. "Though I find it hard to believe that you just happened to run across me at this hour. Which fair lady's father are you escaping from?"

"You wound me, Gerald. Is it not too much to ask for delight in such coincidence? I'm ecstatic to see your ugly, mutant face after all these years. Can't I ask you to be happy to see mine?"

"Dandruff."

"Her name is Daisy. Daisy Waterflower. She's actually somewhat of a local celebrity, you know?" Dandruff admitted, sheepishly. He toyed around with his ukulele, a gift from a past adventure with the very Hunter standing next to him.

"I don't care much for celebrities. Just make sure that you keep me out of it," Gerald chided.

"Of course, Gerald! Although if worse comes to worst, I trust that you'll be ever the loyal friend…"

"If the hangman comes knocking on your door, I'll be there to lay out tea and biscuits for him to quench his thirst and hunger. Now, what are you doing out there in this ungodly hour?"

Dandruff straightened his pose, twiddling on the thin hairs that he proudly wore above his lips. His shit appeared freshly ironed but for a stain that looked to be of oran wine. "I'm here because I heard you're going after the monster in Cerulean Cave, Gerald. My songs have begun to run dry and my usual patrons have begun to tire of your past exploits. You cannot imagine my delight to hear of your newest mission!"

"I can imagine quite a lot. Some of your songs have forced me to stay away from Pewter City."

"Blah, Mt. Moon is a pain in the arse to traverse anyways. If you ask me, I'd wash my hands of their whole zubat business. What do regular people know of what it's like to wrestle a graveler? Or to tear an onix cleanly into two?"

"For that matter, what do you know about any of that?"

"Why, I was the humble bard that witnessed it all!" Dandruff gave a small curtsy towards the Hunter. An image of a flamboyant quaquaval dressed in human clothes flashed across Gerald's mind at the sight of it. He shook his head, as to dispel such foul thoughts.

"Where I'm going, it's dangerous. If you choose to follow me I cannot guarantee your safety," he cautioned.

"Between that and sending you off to fight the big bad monster of Cerulean alone? No sir, I cannot possibly allow it. Trust me, letting me join you is the lesser evil."

Gerald just shrugged, walking across the Nugget Bridge with his companion not far behind him. "When I give you an order I expect you to follow it. If I tell you to run, you run. If-"

"If you tell me to leave you behind, then don't turn back. Really, Gerald, it's not like we haven't gone through this routine over and over again," Dandruff smiled. "Relax. I am just an observer. You can't run the Great Gauntlet of Kanto without having that much sense in you."

The Great Gauntlet, of course, meaning the circuit of Nurse Joys and Officer Jennys stationed throughout the main cities of the region. Running the gauntlet was considered an impossible feat, a challenge which Dandruff had in fact started.

These two old friends continued to roast and grill each other until they'd reached the end of the bridge, where Gerald found a small rowboat left for him there as Gabriel had promised. It looked like a miserable little thing, barely seaworthy. The paint was peeling off on the sides. Faint images of what looked to be delibirds and pelippers covered the top half of the hull. To test it out, Gerald placed a single leg on top of the craft, rocking it from side to side. It stood firm, only letting in a few splashes of icy cold water. Seemingly satisfied with this, Gerald slid into the front end with the oars while Dandruff tiptoed onto the other side. With an extra person on board, they were able to work up a system for making this trip work. Gerald rowed while Dandruff rapidly bailed out the bottom.

"Well here we are, Gerald," Dandruff said, whistling at the cave entrance. "Huge fucking hole, isn't it?"

Three words were etched into the side of the opening. Beware of Monster.


It was dark inside of the cave. Against his own judgement, Dandruff was forced to try and squint his way through the inside with limited visibility.

"Light creates shadows. A Hunter must be able to see all. He must be able to see into the darkness as though it were the brightest of days in order to find his prey. If you wish to join me, then that is the cost of the journey."

"Would make for a shit song if I can't see anything," Dandruff muttered. Gerald grinned at the comment but otherwise said nothing. Jutted rocks, eroded down by both the natural flow of the water and also the work of the cave's inhabitants, made for uneven pathways for them to follow. Dandruff kept an arm's distance from his friend, holding onto his ukulele and struggling to remain silent. "Won't any wild pokemon attack us?" he asked.

Gerald shook his head. From his side pouch, he removed a bottle with an incense cap which emitted a pungent odour that made even Dandruff's eyes water. "This is called a Repel. Wild ones smell this and know to stay away from me."

Dandruff coughed. "Don't you need a really strong pokemon's scent to ward them away?"

"We do have one. Me," Gerald said.

"Very funny. You won't be laughing when a giant crobat tears away your face and wears it like a ma- MASK!" Dandruff yelped as a small greyish creature emerged from the ground before them.

It had two giant red spots on either side of it, resembling those of bloodshot human eyes. In its clutch, it held a yellowish brown mask with a depressed face etched into it. It was incredibly detailed, almost lifelike. Gerald's bestiary identified this creature as a yamask.

"It's harmless. Keep moving, Dandruff," Gerald said. His sword was already half-drawn, yet he slowly eased it back into his back scabbard. Despite the use of the Repel, Gerald couldn't help but maintain constant vigilance. Cerulean Cave was dubbed the second most dangerous area in the Indigo region, right after the treacherous Mt. Silver.

The yamask just circled the pair a few times, blinking and staring. Noticeably, its gaze lingered on Gerald's silver sword for a second longer than anything else. However, having satiated its curiosity the yamask melted back into the floor of the cave.

"That's not the creature you're looking for, huh?" Dandruff joked, albeit weakly.

"No. It needs to be strong enough to cave in a camper's skull and rip limbs clean off of grown men."

"So a graveler?"

"Could be. They're common enough in mountains. Only thing is, they'd usually be higher up or deep inside of caves. From what Gabriel told me, these attacks happened around the entrance," Gerald thought aloud. He stopped to kneel down and inspect an indentation in the rocks.

"Find something?" Dandruff asked.

"It's not just me that is scaring off these pokemon. Whatever this monster is, it's clearly marking the territory for itself," Gerald pointed at the crack in the boulders. "From the shape of the damage, we're possibly looking at a humanoid pokemon. Maybe a sawk or a machoke."

"Sawks aren't native around here though, right?"

"No. So that leaves us with a machoke. Certainly strong enough to bash in a child's skull. The hikers on the other hand…"

"I'm not following you."

"Hikers aren't just regular people who like to climb mountains. They also work as a supplementary force for when rangers comb dangerous zones. It just doesn't make sense for them to lose to a simple machoke. No, there's something more going on in this cave."

A gust of wind from deeper inside of the underground made the hairs on Gerald's arms tingle. He cursed, quickly drawing his sword and whispering some incantation. There seemed to be an immediate effect, as the skin surrounding his major arteries began to harden into granite plates.

"What did you just do? Gerald? What was that wind?"

Ignoring his friend's questioning, the Hunter rummaged through his pockets, removing several vials that were labelled with different colours. Dandruff could make out the markings of one of them to read X Attack. Knocking them back one at a time, Gerald grimaced at the flavour.

From some distance away inside of their cave, a rumbling could be heard, first by Gerald with his more sensitive ears then by the bard. Something was coming towards them, barrelling forward at an inhuman speed. Without realising what he was doing, Dandruff was slowly inching away from his friend, one step at a time.

"Gerald… Should we run? Gerald?"

The Hunter pulled out a length of extra-strength cord from his pack. It seemed to be the latest model of Escape Rope issued by the Silph Company. Unlike other models, however, it was a shorter rope with some sort of hook attached to the end. Any hopes of making a grand escape were quashed, however, when Gerald began winding it up to throw towards the oncoming threat.

"Uh, Gerald, I'm not sure if you know how escape ropes work. Usually, it's-"

Dandruff was unable to finish that thought as the unknown entity finally made its appearance. With two legs the size of small motorcycles and a torso built like a literal tank, the creature was chiselled yet bulky in ways no human was physically capable. It had four giant arms, ripped to the moon and back. On its belt, several human hands were strung together by what appeared to be a piece of cord. The machamp roared, charging towards the Hunter at a terrifying speed.

Gerald, not flinching, threw out his custom made grappling hook, sinking the sharp end to latch on a rock surface and yanking the other end out towards himself as hard as he could. The rope went from slack to fully taut in the matter of seconds, having to suddenly bear the weight of a charging machamp. Something popped in Gerald's limbs as he struggled to hold onto the pokemon.

"Gerald! Gerald!" Dandruff screamed, waving wildly at the four-armed assailant with his handkerchief. "It's the monster. It has to be!"

Upon a closer inspection, it was obvious that this wasn't your ordinary machamp. In the wild, they were able to grow around 1.7 metres tall. Some trainers bred special machops that would eventually grow to be 190 centimetres. The one in front of them was at least 2.3 metres tall, if not more so. This wasn't the only irregularity that Gerald noticed.

"Look at those scars across its torso! Those three scars right there are burn marks."

"From battling?"

"A flamethrower can't leave a burn mark that clean. This was deliberate. It was done by humans," Gerald replied with a grimace. He managed to fully remove his sword from its sheath before bracing it in front of him, all with his free hand not holding onto the rope. "Maybe a fireplace poker. Possibly a branding iron."

"Who would do that?" Dandruff shouted out. Now that the machamp was occupied with trying to maul Gerald, the bard seemed more comfortable taking a closer look at the creature. The idea of taking notes even crossed his mind for a brief moment. "Hey, isn't that the emblem of House Waterfl-"

"Don't know. I'm going to try and subdue it with an elixir," Gerald barked. "Toss me a Power Band when I tell you to. It's a red bracelet. It'll weigh down his limbs if I pin him down."

"How are you going to pin him down-" Dandruff began to ask. However, Gerald uncorked a small vial he'd held inside of his collar pocket with his sword hand. Quickly downing the contents, the Hunter started squirming in pain as smoke came out of his ears. Gerald's eyes turned into a dark red, veins bulging out unnaturally across his features.

With a mighty roar, Gerald drove his knee into the machamp's stomach. It quickly tensed its core just before the attack landed, bearing the brunt of the damage. Not quite unscathed, as a faint cracking sound was audible for the Hunter's ears.

By attacking, however, Gerald had let go of the rope and grappling hook entirely, allowing for the machamp to wiggle out of the bindings. Unable to tear the rope itself apart, the machamp instead flung it down a dark and narrow sideway tunnel.

"Gerald! Make the sign. The thing that sets them on ghost fire!"

"I can't! Some machamps are built to grow stronger under status inflictions. If I use a will-o-wisp, it might backfire horribly," Gerald responded, this time using his sword to deflect a karate chop from the four-armed brute.

"You're gonna get killed if you don't do something to restrain it. Give it the power band, now!"

Dandruff tossed out a small circular wristband that quickly latched itself onto one of the machamp's arms. However, it only seemed to sink into its grey flesh, tightening around the joint. Machamp's face twisted into a grimace, two red eyes glaring into the bard.

"Uh, Gerald? It doesn't look very restrained," Dandruff said, uncertainty creeping through from his throat.

"What colour was the band…"

"I'm not sure what-"

"What colour was the band, Dandruff?" Gerald demanded. Any hint of composure was abandoned in his inflection. Dandruff could even sense what some might consider to be panic in the Hunter's voice.

"Grey! It was grey with some coloured spots."

"That wasn't a power band. That was a choice band. Whatever move that the machamp decides to do next is going to have increased focus and energy flow towards it," Gerald said. With one swift motion, he detached the rope entirely from the strap on his arm, instead propping up his sword with both hands. "Brace yourself. This will get ugly."

They didn't have to wait for long for their answer. Machamp lunged forward, the fighting type pokemon's fists glowing with an ancient martial energy. Yet through sheer dexterity that only experience could afford, Gerald managed to push his friend out of the way before deflecting the punch towards the boulder below them.

BOOM.

Crrkrkrrkrkkk…

Where there were rocks, another tunnel had formed from the force of the machamp's attack. A dynamic punch that could be heard all throughout Mt. Moon and even in Pewter City. It was a punch of catastrophic power, tearing through solid rock as though it were silly putty. All in the exact spot where Dandruff's head had been just a few seconds before.

"Wha- what is that move?"

"It's called the dynamic punch. Horribly inaccurate so it doesn't see much use in battle. Luckily, this means that our suspicions from earlier were correct. If I had burnt it with my Hunter sign earlier, then it's possible that the entire mountain might have caved in over us."

"How the bloody hell are you planning on killing that?" Dandruff sputtered, trying not to swallow any of the dust that sprinkled down from above.

Gerald dumped out the contents of his backpack, rummaging through piles of junk. All while the machamp was huffing and puffing and trying to see whether he'd decimated the two intruders. The dust had almost completely settled by the time Gerald found what he was looking for; a pink talisman in the shape of a clefairy.

"A Pokédoll? Oh sweet lord we are fucked."

"This is a Moon Talisman. I had it blessed a few months ago in Pewter City."

"Will it teleport us out of here? Oh Gerald, I promise that I will cherish you forever if you just let me get back to my Daisy in one piece. I'll be true to her and her alone, I swear."

"Even better. Machamp!" Gerald cried out, tossing the talisman into the fighting type's face. From furious to confused in the matter of seconds, the machamp caught the clefairy doll with two hands, gingerly holding it in front. Gerald set down his sword against the rocks before taking off his gloves. Chanting under his breath, he began to draw a sign in the air.

"I thought you said you're not going to set it on fire?" Dandruff asked, teeth clattering together from pure fright. "Don't tell me you've gone all suicidal on me, you cynical old Hunter."

"No. There's no fire. Let's just pray that this hits," Gerald muttered, releasing the stored energy within his palm. A small orb of magenta light emitted from his hands and trickled lazily over to the distracted machamp. Upon impact, the orb made no other sound as it sunk into the creature's torso.

As if on cue, Machamp's eyelids began to droop from the effect of the Hunter's hypnotic attack. Swaying back and forth, its lower two arms started grasping around the boulders for something to brace its fall. Glossed over eyes searched the room until they locked with Gerald's. The man said nothing, only retrieving his blade from its position on the ground and stepping forward.

The muscular pokemon had a sad glint in its eyes as the Hunter drew near. It knew what was to come next, his fate as a rogue pokemon. Gerald, still as silent as the hangman, raised his sword above his head. "I'm sorry. Rest now."


There was no agreed upon rendezvous point. After all, Gerald was never expected to procure a trophy from the fallen monster of Cerulean Cave. Yet it was not too hard to track down the man Gabriel, whose real name was in fact, Justin Waterflower. A few questions to the right people, coupled with Dandruff's knack for opening doors, had gotten them this piece of information. The pair made their way to the gym leader's estate in the outskirts of Cerulean Cape.

With a single cleave from his sword, Gerald was able to pop off the hinges to the front entrance. The gym leader, Misty, was still hard at work in the city's gym. She would not return for several hours, according to her posted schedule. Following his nose, Gerald marched up the stairs faster than any human, crossing the hallway until he reached the master bedroom. With his Hunter ears, he was able to make out the sounds of grunting and panting from inside.

"You know you had to kill that thing. It was a rampaging monster!" Justin screamed. His right ear was wet with blood from where the Hunter had cuffed him with an open backhand.

"Do not talk to me about monsters, Gabriel. You abused that creature, drove it mad. It had every right to tear you apart, limb from limb. If I could go back in time then I would have let it have you," Gerald spoke in a strained voice, his yellow eyes narrowed and glinting madly.

"It- it was the lesser evil… All those poor, innocent people who suffered at its hands!" Gabriel flinched as Gerald raised his right hand, afraid to be hit again from the mutant's wrath. Instead, Gerald held up the belt of the machamp, still slick with the blood of its deceased owner.

"Evil is Evil. Lesser, greater, middling… Makes no difference. The degree is arbitrary. The definition's blurred. If I'm to choose between one evil and another… I'd rather not choose at all," Gerald said.


A/N: I'm probably not going to continue this story. Consider it a fun little side project.