Chapter 1
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The first thing he felt was the drip of water on his head. The second was a sharp pain racing throughout his left arm. He groaned as he used his good arm to push himself up and out of a puddle, starting to shiver as the cold air brushed against him.
"Where am I?" he muttered. As he went to look around, he quickly noticed how his neck was strangely stiff, unable to turn more than a slight amount. He settled for just turning his whole body.
He was in some kind of wet cave, the walls around him a rough rock, damp with moisture. Stalactites dangled from the ceiling all around the large room, periodically dripping water onto his head. While most of the cave was a dull gray, he could spot a few small black crystals occasionally poking out the stone.
Despite the lack of any light sources, he found he could still see as if it was simply dim light and not pitch black.
He felt another rush of pain from his arm and reactively reached over to grab it with his good arm. As his fingers wrapped around it, he was met with a hard surface. He glanced down, eyes widening as he viewed his arms.
Two thin and tube-like arms extended from bulbous shapes on sides of his torso. Instead of skin, he was covered in a dull brown shell that almost blended in with the rocky cave walls. His hand only had three clawed digits, including a thumb, and seemed more for tearing than any kind of proper manipulation. However, the most disturbing detail he noticed was the brownish-red material caking the tips of his claws.
"What happened to me? Where am I?" He muttered. He tried to recall anything that could work as a clue, but nothing was clear. He couldn't even remember his name.
"My name… Who am I?" He winced as his left arm flared up in pain again. "Injured. I am injured," he concluded.
The left arm was twisted at a strange angle at the base of the forearm, the shell cracked and revealing the green tissue underneath. Dried green blood coated the areas near the breakage. It constantly ached with a sharp pain that made it difficult to think.
It was definitely injured, and rather badly from the looks of it. It was dislocated and would only get worse if he left it untreated.
Luckily, he knew how to do that. He didn't know how he knew that, but that didn't really matter at the moment. He had more pressing issues than questions of why.
"Gotta deal with that, then," he sighed, "I know what to do… I think I do, anyways."
He grabbed his left forearm and breathed in.
He breathed out.
He sucked in a breath and with a wet pop, his left arm was back to the correct angle. He fell to his knees with a grunt, right in front of the puddle he originally woke up in.
"Damn," he shakily breathed out.
He tested the arm, opening and closing the hand. Still hurt, but not to the blinding degree it was before. He took a moment to get his bearings, eyes drawn to the puddle.
The puddle showed his reflection and his eyes darted across the image, taking in every detail. The entire body seemed to be covered in the same brownish shell as his arms. His torso was a tall segmented rectangular shape with two thin arms and two short and stumpy legs attached to the side. He didn't seem to have a neck, as his head seemed to make up the uppermost segment of his torso.
The two eyes in his head were completely pitch black, save for tiny pinpricks of white serving as his pupils. Underneath his eyes was a long lipless vertical mouth, countless serrated teeth lining the sides. Resting near the top of his head, two large and horn-like spiked pincers jutted upward.
"Huh," he made pincers clack twice, "I'm a Pinsir." He paused, thinking about what he just said, "...how do I know that?"
As he continued sitting in front of the reflection inspecting his appearance, he soon noticed a star-like mark on his torso below his mouth. It was a lighter shade than the rest of his shell, nearing a gray color and it looked jagged, like the remnant of some angry wound. Now that he was paying more attention, his outer shell seemed to be cover in all sorts of faint nicks and scratches, though no were as prominent as the one of his chest
"Are these scars? Is that how they look on an exoskeleton?" he muttered, "First a damaged arm, then a massive scar." He has a suspension that he, or at least the old 'he', is not a stranger to violent encounters.
Intellectually, Pinsir knew he should be terrified. He woke up in an unfamiliar environment, a dark cave no less, and was covered in injuries, both old and new. Worse yet, he couldn't seem to recall much about how he ended up in the cave. Some tidbits, like his species' name and how to treat an arm wound, seem to come to him when prompted, but actual memories were beyond him. He should be panicking. And yet, he wasn't. It was like the fear was there, but… dulled. He could tell he was afraid, but not to the degree that it was affecting his actions.
His internal musings were interrupted as a hissing, "Krokorok…" echoed through the cave.
Pinsir glanced up and began to stand, "Who's there?" The white dots of his eyes darted around. His instincts were screaming at him to watch out. He snapped his pincers, the sound echoing through the cave.
From ahead of him, two black beady eyes shined in the dark. "Krok!" The Krokorok darted forward in the blur. Shadowy energy gathered in its maw, then it bit down on Pinsir's already injured arm. A wet cracking sound rang out and fresh green blood soaked its mouth.
Pinsir's pincers instinctually bent down and dug into the Krokorok's sides, lifting it off the ground. The Krokorok released the arm from a combination of surprise and pain, and with a mighty heave, Pinsir flinged the Krokorok towards a stalagmite. The crocodilian-esque Pokemon collided with the structure, shattering it in a cloud of dust.
Pinsir watched the dust clear and saw the unconscious body of the Krokorok. He rubbed his bitten arm. The damage wasn't too bad. The dark energy didn't seem to have aided the Pokemon's teeth in penetrating his tough exoskeleton. Still hurt though.
"I suppose I do get injured often," he muttered to himself.
The cave was quiet. The only thing he could hear was the dripping of water and his own quickened breathing as the adrenaline from his encounter subsided. He looked forward to the path the Krokorok came from.
"Have to keep moving before any more show up…" he said, trying to fill the eerie silence with his voice.
Keeping an eye on the unconscious Krokorok, he turned and approached the tunnel it came from. He gave the cave room one last look over, then descended the tunnel.
The tunnel seemed to just go straight at first, but soon enough it began to twist and turn in unnatural ways the further he went down it. If there was one thing to be thankful for, it was his body's ability to see in the dark. He didn't know how he would be able to navigate if it was pitch black.
The tunnel eventually opened into a larger area. It was definitely bigger than the first room, but not by much. Just as rocky and just as wet as the last one, too. He spotted what looked to be light coming from around a stone corner and his eyes widened. He started to move towards the light, but when he went to lift his leg, it was caught on something.
Pinsir glanced down and inspected his leg. A thin pale purple line was attached to his heel. Following the line with his eyes, it trailed back and he saw what it was connected to. A red face with two purple eyes stared at Pinsir. Its mandibles were spread, and the other end of the purple string originated from between them.
It let out a faint, "Ariados," before it violently whipped its head to the side and the thread jerked. He barely had time to react as the force on his leg yanked him. The last thing he saw was the stone floor rapidly approaching his face before it smacked into him and all went dark.
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AN: I wrote this on a whim after playing some Mystery Dungeon. I don't quite know when I will continue this or if I will at all. This is my first fic and feedback is appreciated.