Hello and welcome to the next chapter of A Slothful Journey…a day late :( Sorry for the wait, some technical issues on my end prevented me from from posting yesterday, but they are resolved (fingers crossed).
I continue to be surprised by the reception this story is receiving, and I honestly can't thank you all enough for giving it and me a chance. A special thank you to all those who follow and favorited, and especially those who take the time to submit a review. Each one really means a lot! Concerning reviews, I welcome any speculation, suggestions, or comments you have for me! I'd love to hear what you all think or would like to see.
Now I know that in the last chapter, there was a scene that ran darker than some might have expected. I had attempted to foreshadow this, but just so there isn't any confusion, this fic will have darker moments. Now that's not to say that from here on it'll be all fire and blood, but, in my opinion, a world populated with magical creatures is bound to have conflict, injury, and death. My hope for this fic is to make a somewhat realistic Pokémon story that follows both the amazement as well as the terror of the Pokemon world to the best of my ability.
So, without further ado, I give you Chapter Six of A Slothful Journey
Waking up in a tree hollow disoriented Malic for a few moments. It was, after all, the first night he had spent away from the orphanage. Moonlight streamed into the hollow, draping itself atop his sleeping bag like an extra blanket. Outside his makeshift camp, everything was frosted with silver, the full moon giving off just enough light to replace all but the deepest shadows. Malic wanted to pull out his sketch pad but decided against it. If he started drawing now, he would never fall back asleep.
Waking up at night was nothing new to Malic. Even before he had taken to climbing the orphanage roof and basking in starlight, he would often find himself awake for an hour or two before drifting back to sleep. While initially annoying, he had grown to appreciate the extra time to himself, a few hours of peace in the otherwise chaotic happenings of life. Malic settled back against the padded sleeping bag, shifting back comfortably.
Malic could feel a soreness across his body for the first time in a while. It was a good, if unfamiliar, feeling, one he expected he would get used to. While he expected the trials to become a trainer to be challenging, he never could have pictured how outlandish they would be. Dropping people with brand new Pokemon into a somewhat wild area and expecting them to not only survive but navigate, forage, and avoid or defeat wild Pokemon wasn't Malic's idea of an ideal test. But then again, tests, in general, weren't.
A soft snort drew his attention to Slakoth, still nestled against him. His clawed hands flexed against Malic's shirt, keeping a firm grip even while dead asleep. A soft smile crept across Malic's face. It was hard to believe it had only been a day since they had met. He just felt a connection click into place with Slakoth, a feeling he hadn't felt even with Ms. Chloe or Cherie. It wasn't like he could read Slakoth's mind or was suddenly a fantastic trainer; the Poochyena spat had told him that much. He just felt…comfortable, like Slakoth was an old friend rather than an acquaintance. Maybe it was a Pokemon thing. He had felt more at ease with the Zigzagoon and Taillow that occasionally dropped by than he had with anyone in Grovewood, outside of Ms. Chloe and the kids, of course.
Or it could have something to do with the glow he saw around Slakoth's Pokeball. Professor Birch didn't seem to notice it; if he did, he didn't mention it. Malic couldn't claim to be an expert on Pokemon or training, but that didn't seem like something common. He made a mental note to look through the trainer guide tomorrow and see if there was anything about glowing Pokeballs.
Sleep finally began its seductive song, coaxing his eyes shut with little resistance on his part. Tomorrow would be a busy day, and he needed all the sleep he could get. Then, he heard an explosion.
The explosion was abrupt, ripping through the peaceful night like a lightning strike. Malic shot up, all traces of sleep vanishing. Slakoth tumbled back onto his legs, head turned towards the hollow entrance. If the explosion was lightning, swift and startling, the roar that came after was thunder. Dark and heavy, the sound almost carried a physical weight that shook Malic down to his bones. He was petrified in place while the roar rang out, as if the slightest movement would somehow draw the Pokemon closer. Only once the roar had faded into a distant echo did he spring to his feet. Throwing on his clothes, even as he shoved his sleeping bag into his pack, Malic tried to stop the panic bubbling inside him. He had never heard a sound like that, one that carried such a suffocating presence.
Slakoth had yet to move from where Malic had dumped him. He was near the entrance of the hollow, and, much like Malic, Slakoth seemed on edge. A ridge of fur running up his back spiked up like the tuft on his head. Even though his expression remained unchanged, Slakoth's body was pulled taut, drawn like a bowstring as he scanned the distant treeline.
As much as a primal part of him wanted to bolt, to escape from whatever made that sound, Malic restrained himself. Running blindly into the night was too risky; he needed to stay calm and think things through. Taking a fortifying breath, Malic settled beside Slakoth, pulling the map out. The tree was in the Eastern forest section of the reserve, which meant they would need to travel West to get to the Lab.
Professor Birch had said that the dangerous Pokemon were restrained, but Malic had difficulty associating that roar with something that even trainers would consider harmless. In the worst-case scenario, the lab had missed a strong Pokemon, or something went wrong, and the powerful Pokemon were somehow back in the reserve. Either way, Malic was not interested in encountering the roar's source.
The safest place was the Lab, which meant that was his goal. According to the map, Malic estimated the tree to be about five miles from the Lab. That was assuming, of course, that he traveled in a straight line. The moon was still rising into the sky, meaning he was going west as long as he kept it to his back. He had a direction; now, all he needed was–
The roar ripped through the silent night once more.
Malic felt himself jolt, barely holding himself in place. His lungs were too small, his heart beating too fast, but it wasn't as intense as the first time. Still, the hollow made it hard to hear exactly where the roar was coming from. He had no choice. Despite every instinct telling him to hunker back down, Malic took a few trembling steps forward into the silvery night.
In the clearing surrounding the grand tree, Malic forced himself to listen, focus on the sound, and reluctantly confirm his morose suspicions. The roar was louder this time. It was heading closer to them, and it was coming from the same direction as the Lab. That left him with two options: Try to skirt around the Pokemon heading towards him and make it to the Lab, or go the opposite way and hopefully avoid whatever it was heading his way. Either way, they couldn't stay here.
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Arthur dove to the side, narrowly slipping past a bladed arm as it blurred through where his head had been. The Scyther hissed, the wings of the human-sized Bug-Type blurring to life as it readied another swing, only to be sent crashing into a tree by a large gray tail. His Rhydon, Gregor, strode forward with bark like two rocks smashing together. Held firmly in his hand was another Scyther weakly striking his rocky hide. Gregor snorted in amusement before his free hand sparked, and he slammed a Thunderpunch into the Scyther, sending it flying into the same tree he had tossed the other one.
"Having a little too much fun, aren't we, Gregor?" Gregor idly spiked a flying Scyther into the ground with a flick of his tail. Arthur looked at the twitching Scyther and then at Gregor and sighed. "Just keep them in one piece, alright? We're supposed to contain them, not eradicate them."
Gregor nodded and lumbered off, making the next Thunderpunch obviously slower and barely tapping the furious Scyther. The prolonged contact with the corona of electricity surrounding Gregor's fist had an effect similar to a bug zapper, and Arthur wasn't sure which method was worse. Still, Arthur couldn't complain. Brutal as it was, Gregor was efficient and quick in defeating the enraged Scyther swarm, and time was of the essence.
The explosive release of Pokemon back into the enclosure had sent the Rangers into a flurry of barked orders and swift action, putting as many boots on the ground as fast as possible. A little over forty rangers had remained at the Lab to help facilitate the testing, a number that now seemed woefully inadequate. They were further divided into duties of lab defense and enclosure scouting.
As part of the scouting team, Arthur was out in the thick of it, searching for any participants he could find. He had already rescued four, sending them back to the Lab on Gale. Unfortunately, the last one had enough red clothing to draw the attention of a particularly large Scyther swarm. At least, he hoped the clothes had already been red.
When Arthur heard Gale's familiar screech, he returned Gregor and jumped. A second later, Gale appeared underneath him and propelled them into the sky, leaving the few remaining Scyther to tend to their unconscious swarmmates.
Even on Gale, Arthur felt as though he was moving too slowly. Twenty rangers weren't enough to cover the entire enclosure. The initial teleport had been limited to a radius of eight miles centered on the Lab, but with at least a full day of travel, there was no telling how far some of the applicants might be.
Arthur was certain that he missed three more for every one he saved. The dark night and thick canopy of trees impeded even Gale's sharp eyes. Though he had long hardened his heart to the realities of a trainer's life, these kids weren't even trainers yet, and some never would be.
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Malic fought to keep his breathing steady. As much as he wanted to run, the distance between him and the Lab was too much to burn all of his energy in a mad sprint. Not to mention, trying to hastily navigate the forest in near darkness sounded like an excellent way to hurt himself and be an even bigger target. He kept his pace, carefully picking his way through shrubbery and fallen leaves with as little sound as he could manage. Atop his backpack, Slakoth was vigilant, head swiveling back and forth.
The Lab was the most logical decision and the safest place he could go. He knew its general direction, and aside from the roar, there was no reason not to try and reach it. It had been close to twenty minutes, and the roar remained silent, a welcome respite to Malic's frayed nerves, but he stayed alert. The night had twisted the previously calming forest into something out of a children's nightmare. Gnarled claws from tree branches, leering faces out of moonlight and shrubbery, Malic decided right then and there that, if he got through this, night travel would be infrequent at best on his travels.
A sudden flash of light off to his right blinded him. The ground trembled underneath his feet from another explosion, this one much closer than the last. Malic braced himself against a tree, shaking branches and leaves showering down around him. As soon as the tremor stopped, Malic took off sprinting. Any thoughts of injury or concealment were flushed from his mind; his only objective was to put as much distance between whatever caused the explosion and himself as possible.
It was as though the second explosion was the signal for the forest to come alive. All around him, Malic heard cries of Pokemon or people in some cases, but he didn't stop moving. He could feel the comforting grip of Slakoth on his back as he forced himself to keep moving, to ignore the confused and terrified cries that seemed to surround him.
As Malic slowed down slightly, he realized that they did surround him and seemed to be getting closer. A light fog started to roll in as the sound ceased abruptly, leaving Malic and Slakoth surrounding in a faintly swirling mist that thickened every second.
"Malic."
A voice weakly called out from the fog, which Malic recognized immediately. "Cherie?"
"Malic, help me!"
She immediately replied, the shake in her voice spurring him into action. "Cherie, where are you?" How had she gotten here?
"Over here, hurry!" Cherie called out from off to his left. He charged forward, heedless of the small branches and bushes that snagged at him. "Cherie, keep talking to me. Help me find you."
"I'm over here, Malic!" The voice was closer. They repeated this over and over again until Malic finally saw Cherie's blonde ringlets peeking out from behind a tree. A second later, her baby blues peeked around the trunk and widened as they caught sight of him. She burst into tears as she stumbled towards him. "Malic!"
He swept her up into a hug, shielding her from the forest with his arms as she bawled into his chest. Tension drained from his body like air from a balloon. He shushed her, gently rocking her back and forth in his arms until her sobs dwindled into hiccuped sniffles.
"What are you doing here, Cherie? How are you even here?"
She didn't answer for a moment, keeping her face buried in his shirt even when she did. "I-I hitched a ride with Mr. Cartol to Littleroot. I couldn't just let you go like that. It just isn't fair!"
"Cherie, I'm glad you care about me so much…but now we're both in trouble." This seemed to set her off into another round of crying, each sob like a nail being driven into Malic's heart. Cherie didn't cry often, which made every time she did all the more painful. With the initial shock of finding her in the forest fading, Malic realized just how much noise she was making.
"Cherie, listen to me. Right now, something is going on in this forest, something bad. I don't fully know what myself, but I do know that we need to make it to the Lab. And if we're going to make it, we need to do it quietly and quickly. Think you can do it?"
Cherie nodded, covering her mouth with her hand, silencing her crying. Malic forced what he hoped was a reassuring grin on his face and ruffled her hair. "No need to worry; I'll be with you all the way. We'll make it through just fine, one step at a time." Looking at the thickening mist around them, he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Just don't let go of my hand."
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Gale banked down to a torn-up clearing, a splintered tree half submerged into a small pond. Arthur dismounted, letting Gale rise back up above the treetops. Dense forests weren't the easiest location for a Pideot to fight in. Large gouges in the earth meant a Pokemon of significant size or strength was involved, and the still hissing purple liquid eating away at the tree trunk hinted at a Poison Type. Arthur continued to survey the area, hand resting on Gregor's Pokeball. While he was reasonably sure the Pokemon in question was no longer around, it was better to be safe than sorry.
The air suddenly smelled sweet, like a freshly cut Pecha berry. Arthur would have suspected Sweet Scent, but it wasn't an overpowering headey scent that forced the victim into a trance. He followed his nose over to the pond, where a small form lay limply in the shallow bank of the pool.
Arthur made out the battered form of a Surskit, a large gash running across its circular body. It split the yellow cap and ran diagonally down between its eyes. At first glance, it appeared dead, but the small antenna twitched, a glob of clear liquid dripping down into the water, a burst of sweetness accompanying it.
Arthur crouched down, immediately assessing the severity of the injury. His hand slid from Gregor's ball to a Ranger ball clipped behind it. The ball itself was unassuming, a matte gray, unadorned aside from the Hoenn Ranger logo embossed at the top. Despite its appearance, the Ranger ball was a marvel of modern technology. While functioning as a regular Pokeball, it also allowed the ranger to temporarily capture a Pokemon registered to another Pokeball. It was the pride and joy of Ranger R&D, a way for Rangers to easily remove criminal Pokemon from the equation as well as easily transport injured or abused Pokemon.
Of course, they would never reveal that the technology actually came from Orre, and they only condensed the technology into a Pokeball, but the realm of scientific egos was none of Arthur's business. Gently pressing the Ranger Ball against the uninjured side of Surskit, the Pokemon was absorbed into the Ranger ball, the exterior button flashing blue.
Arthur frowned. Blue meant the Pokemon inside was already registered to a Pokeball. Which meant there could be a trainer nearby. He whistled, Gale responding with her own as she landed in the small clearing. "Gale, there could be a trainer nearby, possibly injured. Search from the air; Hopps and I will take the ground search." Another chirp, and she was back in the air, slowly making ever-increasing circles. Arthur once again bypassed Gregor's Pokeball and plucked another from his belt. "Hopps, on duty!"
Hopps was his newest acquisition, having bonded with him after rescuing him from a smuggling ring a year ago. The Lokix kneeled and looked up expectantly at Arthur, his glossy black exterior softly shining in the moonlight. "Hopps, we have a potentially injured trainer somewhere around here. Gale is on aerial recon; I need you with me on foot." Hopps nodded, already scanning the area.
Between the two, it didn't take long before a muddled set of footprints could be found heading in the opposite direction of the Lab. "Of course," Arthur murmured, sharing a sigh with Hopps before following the tracks into the forest, praying the kid was still alive.
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Birch stood silently in his office, gazing through large windows that faced toward the enclosure. Even from where he was, it was easy to see the occasional flash of a move or how some trees disappeared into the forest's depths. The jovial gleam in his eyes from earlier today had disappeared, leaving a resigned weariness. A soft knock on his door announced the entrance of Miranda, her usually icy exterior softened. "Sir, are you alright?"
"I'd be lying if I said I was. This was supposed to be a challenge, yes, but not life or death. And I'm the one who put them there."
Miranda walked closer, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "Sir, you couldn't have known the containment would fail. There was no warning in the system that–"
"It doesn't matter!" The shout and subsequent retreat of Miranda's hand seemed to deflate Birch even more. "I apologize, Miranda: it seems my mood is not the best for company at the moment. But, in the end, it doesn't matter if the containment failure was my fault or not. I am the one charged with overseeing this task, with protecting these young men and women…and I have failed."
Birch pulled out a stack of pages and handed them to her with a solemnity she would expect from holding a sleeping Voltorb. She flipped through them. "These are profiles of applicants? Are these the ones who have been secured so far?"
"Those are the ones we've found either uninjured, scratched, or bruised. These are the ones who have been found but are injured enough to require a Chansey visit." He said, pulling out a stack that was half again as large as the one Miranda was holding. "This last stack," he slapped the largest pile onto his desk, bouncing a few pens. "This last stack is for all those still unaccounted for. Out of the four hundred and four applicants who made it to this test, we know where a hundred seventy-three are. That leaves two hundred thirty-one. Over half of those kids are trapped out there, and we have no way of knowing if they are even alive or not!"
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Deep in the forest, trees parted like waves before a ship, trunks shattered, or roots ripped from the ground. Footsteps shook the earth around it, each one forcing leaves from their branches and sending them cascading down. A trail of crushed trees had been left behind, a valley in the forest canopy headed straight for a large tree towering over the rest of its kind.
At the head of this newfound valley, leading its expansion, a figure nearly as tall as the trees around it. A tree crushed in its trunk, its shoulders forcing two more to the side; it looked up, the moon framed by the skyward branches, and roared…and something roared back.