Chapter 2:

A mind of blades

…

Oh, Fuck me.

Grey inched backward in caution with his neurons ringing in adrenalized alarm, and every hair on his nape going rigid. His spine shivered paradoxically in the face of the bladed, avian inferno strutting toward him with flaming, furious rancor in her fiery eyes.

"So, you're the bastard human that locked me up, eh?"

To top it off, the situation itself had insanity painted all over it. This pokémon-chicken-bird-or-whatever thing spoke to him like a normal human. He assumed from years ago, and the current trend, that pokémon understood the human language; considering the 'battling' concept and all.

But to actually 'talk' like a human? He didn't remember 'that' from the franchise, or did he just forget? Perhaps he was more behind the times than he thought?

"Oi! Are you mute or what!? I asked you a damned question!" She growled, increasing the pace of her approach as he did for his retreat.

Flushed and sweating with his breath shuddering in the face of her blazing aura, he could only act civil and try his best not to offend her.

Just treat her like a human, Grey, just treat her like...A very angry, well-armed, dangerous, and fiery human—

"N-No, I didn't, nope, not me." He barely even understood his own mumbling at the sight of her gleaming dagger-like claws.

"What? Then why the hell were 'you' holding that ball-thing!?"

"I-I wasn't holding it! It's there on the grou–"

"You think I'm a fuckin' idiot, do you!?" She was somehow even more furious than she already was. Grey kept backing away until his back hit a thick tree trunk, trapping himself between it and the aggressive pokémon.

"B-But if you weren't going to believe me, then why ask the question!?"

"Oh, a smart ass, ay!? I'll show you!" She screeched as she launched herself through the air with her claw aimed at his chest—

"Whoa shit!" he cried as he stumbled back onto the ground from the thrust which barely missed him, stabbing and burning into the tree trunk instead, leaving her stuck. She growled in an attempt to yank her arm free of the sizzling bark.

As Grey crawled backward on the ground to get away from her, still in disbelief and shock at the sight of the surreal creature, the professor called out to him—

"Grab the pokéball and try to get her back in!"

What!? Is he freakin' mental!? How the hell am I—

The roar of flames and abrupt increase in air temperature stole his attention as the pokémon had the entire tree set on fire, before tearing her arm free of its smoldering trunk.

—Ball it is!

He scrambled to his feet and dove for the pokéball, grabbing it and whirling around—

"Got the ball! Now wha—Oh Jesus fuc—"

The air whooshed from his stomach as her clawed foot sank it with a ferocious kick; it was like taking a metal bat to the gut. Struggling for breath, he stumbled back on the ground yet again as she was upon him, he dug his fingers into the grass in an attempt to crawl back, but he found himself pinned to the ground as a scolding hot claw hovered inches from his throat, singeing the surface of his skin.

"I fucking knew it." She snarled.

His breath shuddered at the knowledge of how he was about to die. Murdered in the same manner he attempted on his stepfather. No, this couldn't be it. It wasn't fair!

"It wasn't me Goddammit!" He yelled in her face in a final attempt to dissuade her. She recoiled from his abrasive denial and raised a feathered brow, in apparent surprise.

"Oh? Then tell me 'smart ass', who was it then? Hmm?" She questioned with a hint of a sadistic grin curling her lips—or beak—while she dangerously traced circles across his throat with her index claw, just short of puncturing it, while he leaned away from it as much as he could. It burnt like hell to the touch.

Grey thought furiously before answering. If he told her it was the professor, then he was as good as dead. And there was no guarantee she wouldn't kill him as well. In her eyes, it had to be one or the other. It was his life or the professors. But the answer wouldn't guarantee anything.

"I-It was some poacher guy that ran off when the professor and I tried to stop him, but he dropped his bag 'there'." He attempted a lie to buy himself some time, hoping against hope that she was all brawns and no brains.

Then she finally gazed at the professor, who was still stuck on the tree, watching with profound worry lacing his bearded face, yet in absolute fascination of the, otherwise, surreal dialogue. She observed his situation and pursuers who were now gnawing away at the tree to get it to fall. She sniffed the air a few times at the professor's direction, then at the pokéball's direction.

"That's strange, you two are the only one's here. Yet he's stuck on that tree. How did he get 'there' if the guy ran off and dropped his bag while you two supposedly pursued him 'together'? And why are poochyena chasing him up the tree? Also, I don't see any signs of a struggle on this slope to suggest he got blown away. Nor can I smell any other scent besides you two. And that ball has only 'two' distinct scents on it. That man's,"—She turned her gaze back on him with fury in her incandescent eyes—"and yours. Care to explain 'that'?"

And she was fucking smart to top it off. Great. But she made it sound as though she never even saw her kidnapper. Or so-called 'capturer', considering the pokéball. That's right...One had to throw the thing at a pokémon to catch it. Or something like that. Just how on Earth—or 'in the hell'—did the researcher catch such a beast? Did he catch her off guard?

Now he was desperate.

"W-Well obviously, the guy had gloves on and we had to check the pokéballs."

"Oh really?" She didn't seem convinced.

"You didn't see 'us' throw it at you, right? That disproves your suspicion."

She chuckled evilly. "I disagree. Your weird scent is still lingering in the air and coming straight from behind us in the woods, alone. 'You' came from the only plausible direction that this imaginary 'poacher guy' could have run off at, considering the slope and cliffside. While the professor is on 'that' tree in the 'opposite' direction. I think I've reached a verdict here…"

Oh for fuck's sake, really!?

She prodded his neck as she leaned in and furrowed her brow, "I call tauroshit."

Eh.

"Don't you mean, 'bullshit'?"

"I know what I said. Now die."

Fuck.

He braced himself as she raised her claws in the air, pointing the gleaming edges downward. So this is what Marcus must've seen. Figures. What were the chances of this thing dying of a brain aneurysm? In her fury, she may have been just as psychotic, but the chances of her living a similar life to his were close to nil.

Karma is such crap—

Her muscles twitched to stab him—

"W-What's going on here?" Asked another feminine voice, this one nervous and younger.

His would-be killer pokémon snapped her gaze away to locate the newcomer, and Grey's hand instinctively snaked into his jumper pouch, pocketing the pokéball to swap it with the only thing he could defend himself with. He just needed another second.

The professor's voice echoed, "May!? Is that you!?"

"Professor Birch?"

The distracted fowl pokémon gazed at 'May'. "Who the hell is—"

Well, Karma can go suck a dick—

Grey drew the kitchen knife and swung in an arc, slashing the creature's arm. A splash of blood mottled his clothes and her plumage as she produced an ear-splitting shriek in pain, but he silenced her as he rolled over and shoved her off before stumbling back to his feet, pointing at the fowl pokémon with the kitchen tool as he created some distance—

"Gah! Why you fucking piece of shit! You cut me!" she roared as she licked the profusely bleeding gash he left.

At this point, his nerves were lit on fire, and the fuel was the epinephrine his cardiac muscles were flooding him with—

"And 'you' were going to fucking 'stab' me, you bitch! What did you expect!?"

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

"What'd you call me!?"

Ah crap.

Fire erupted out of her maw and shot toward him, he jumped out of the way as the stream of searing flames barely singed his hair.

The flash of blades caught his eye, and hot pain clipped his left arm as she lunged at him. God, she was fast.

He swung wildly with the kitchen knife to keep the psychotic pokémon at bay, but she dodged and knocked it away, sending it flying, leaving him defenseless. He controlled his breathing, trying to calm himself.

Don't lose focus. Keep steady. She's just like a human, you can do this. Just like the old days.

She went for a stab, and he deflected her arm and socked her in the face, but their height difference made him overcommit and trip up.

Recovering from his punch faster than he could react, the pokémon whirled in the air with a graceful spin and his cheek sank from an impact. His teeth chattered and his brains wobbled as he scraped the ground and slammed against a tree.

He spat out a glob of blood as he found himself out of breath again, plastered on the tree and heaving as the crazy fire-fowl paced toward him, wiping blood from her beak and brandishing her claws. "You've got guts for a human, I'll give you that. But you're still just a piece of shit like the rest of em' for putting me in that ball and taking me away like I'm some kind of trophy. So I'll relieve you of your existence."

Grey's head spun. His vision was filled with doubles of everything, before readjusting. He tried to move, but his body hurt and he still couldn't catch his breath. His lungs burned in exhaustion. His mind spinning from the kick, he could only think of one thing to do. One last thing left.

With a shaky hand and a slow motion, he pulled out the pokéball, and the fiery pokémon froze at the sight of it, before regaining her composure. "That thing's useless if you can't target me. I'm not going back in there."

Grey couldn't understand why...But the kick he received to the head jogged his memory into one particular day of the past, on his way to a previous part-time job he had…

He was walking past the open door of a small, crusty otaku shop that sold all sorts of merchandise. Some consisted of iconic content ranging from his favorite games and shows at the time, to other things he was never or no longer into, like pokémon; which happened to be playing an episode of its anime series on a TV atop of the corner of the shop's ceiling.

He was about to leave, but something about the episode caught his attention...

It featured a purple-haired teen. He held out his pokéball, pressed a button, and with—blue?—energy flowing out of the ball, he let out his pokémon.

What happened to the usual red light he recalled? What did that mean? He hadn't seen 'that' before. Must be a new generation.

"You're out of here!" Hollered out the ever-frowning teen.

Oh. So did that mean he 'released' this creature? Is that what the 'blue' light meant?

The little chimp looking pokémon attempted to plead its case but was ignored as the boy walked away, but the famous kid with the cap and pikachu on his shoulder—of course he'd forget the human's name but not the icon of the franchise—walks over with two acquaintances, a tan young adult man wearing a vest, with a young girl wearing a white beanie.

"Paul? So that's the end of all that 'special' trainin'?" Asked the capped boy, AJ? Aron? Ash? Ketchup? No, that last one couldn't be right. The' hell was his name again?

"Yeah that's right, what's the point?" replied 'Paul', sparing them a glance.

"Huh?"

He walks away from the lot. "Obviously, I need to get a new fire-type."

"You're givin' up chimchar?"

The girl steps after Paul. "What happened to the two of you getting stronger together?"

The taller of the group then added: "All of that progress and you're throwing it away?"

But Paul walks off, shutting them all out without a care. The group gave a side glance to the saddened 'chimchar', as it walked away moping at its failure, looking like it was about to burst into tears. Not to mention it had scrapes and bruises all over it. This Paul didn't even tend to the thing at least before releasing it. Shit, talk about abuse. Obviously, the chimchar was scarred as fuck.

But the red capped kid offers the chimp pokémon a place in his group...And what happened next, was laughably predictable as the episode ended right there, with the narrator borrowing a quote from 'Alexander Graham Bell':

'When one door closes, another opens.'

...Pfft. Yeah right, Alex, your philosophy is just as cheap as the plot of this fucking episode of pokémon.

Grey stopped watching after that and continued on his way, being reminded of how ridiculous the plot of that episode was and the entire logic behind it. If anyone asked him, he'd say the little fire-chimp was better off without any of them, in freedom.

He didn't give a shit for how much of a saint the—Ash?—kid was. Would such an intelligent and emotive little creature, after just being rejected heartlessly by his original 'trainer', despite all the bloody effort it made to impress him and cater to the brat's self-indulgence, really run right into the arms of yet 'another' trainer so soon? Risking its emotional and mental health all over again? In another cage?

Stupid unrealistic plot, and an oxymoronic denigration of the franchise's own creation's intellect as an elemental being who is capable of manipulating and generating fire! For fuck's sake.

The absurdity of it astounded him. He couldn't believe he was so into the series as a child…

...The Fire-fowl bore into him with her furious eyes, as behind her, the 'May' girl, a fifteen-sixteen-year-old brunette girl, ordering a bluish little quadruped pokémon to use an attack from behind the lethal fire-type. But a burst of water from the little pokémon's mouth blasted May in the face instead. The sight was pure gold, even though the young girl tried to help him.

Actually, the entire situation was fucking stupid.

Here he was, criticizing the trainer-pokémon relationship that the franchise bastardized into personal, self-glorified cockfighting. Meanwhile, he was somehow within said franchise getting the shit kicked out of him by a 'pokémon' who was, apparently, just as misanthropic as he was. All while a teen girl was trying to rescue him by giving orders to another smaller pokémon that couldn't even figure out the obviousness of her intention. Either that or it just didn't like her enough to listen.

His shuddering breaths turned into snickering, becoming chortles and chuckles before he flat out burst into manic laughter. His cackling echoed in the forest, and all eyes were on him. It hurt to laugh and he was out of breath already, but man...That was just...

"The hell are you laughing about!?" Yelled the fire-type.

"Nothing...Just poetic justice."

"What!? You're 'so' dead."

He fiddled with the pokéball, trying to figure something out, following the—probably no longer fictional—'Paul' character's example with the device, but to no avail.

Fuck where is it? Am I supposed to do something first?

The fire-fowl was nearing him, again raising its blades.

"Quick Mudkip! Tackle the combusken!" Intervened the professor from afar, but the little blue mud-fish pokémon looked like it was going to pass out from fear, much like the girl.

So the species name of this pokémon that's been beating the living snot out of him, was 'combusken', ay? Well, that name suffix revealed he made a good guess with the farm fauna comparison he made earlier.

The combusken was upon him, with killing intent oozing out of her infernal aura.

Shit, I'm really going to die this time.

Then another memory surfaced…Much shorter, but purely ironic. It was of a red-haired woman, wearing a white uniform with a red 'R' emblazoned on her open white vest over a black under-top. Wasn't that one of the members of the running-gag trio of an antagonist organization from the series? What was it again? Roquette? Rosette? No...Rocket?

"You have to do it, go on and be with the one you love!" The colorful moth-like pokémon refused to leave. Then the woman's thigh-length boot crushed a pokéball into pieces. "There, now there's no more pokeball for you to return to! Go on, get out of here!" She cried with tears lining her face. The pokémon sadly complied and went on to fly with the rest of its numerous kin into a starry night sky...Needless to say, it was cheesy as fuck, and the woman still owned other pokémon to use for her ridiculous comedic-relief routines and scandalously plotted 'evil' schemes...

Still, the intruding memory had served him. Or was it precognition? Pure imagination? It didn't matter.

The combusken was just about to strike him, but Grey made her stop as he grabbed the pokéball in between his hands. "You're constantly on and on about this fucking ball, but did you ever think that you could just, oh I don't know, maybe do 'this'!?"

He yanked the device open with his fingertips, breaking his nails in the process, and grabbed both sides of its maw in an attempt to wrench it apart.

Shit the thing was harder than he thought. But being pummeled and trapped against a tree, he couldn't just stand to stomp on it as the vision suggested.

So he scratched and cut his already bleeding hands as he ripped the fucker apart.

The combusken just stood there gaping at him with shock in her eyes, as the light crunching of metal was the only thing keeping the silence at bay.

It turned out to be a much slower process than he thought. But the very notion of a pokéball and the prison that it represented, struck home with his intra-ego. It fueled and ignited his already wracked nerves, and sent him into a wrathful crazed frenzy, seeing red as his very sanity was fractured for what seemed like the hundredth time at all these infuriating turns of events.

C'mon, break...Break you piece of goddamned shit! Ragh! Fuck!

With a final heave and twist, he snapped the crumpled device in half and dropped it at her clawed feet—

"There! Satisfied!?" He hollered out, ignoring the shredded and bleeding skin of his hands, earned from wrecking the little contraption as he fixed it with a frustrated glare.

The combusken was speechless, and like water dousing a fire, her crimson eyes glimmered for a moment…

...What was up with this human? If he could even be called that. What was she looking at?

Before her was an adult man by human standards, who was hunched at the tree, gazing at his self-inflicted cuts that dripped globs of blood onto the grass, staining it red.

She was befuddled at how he had yelled at her in defiance of his fate and shattered her tiny prison in his wild tantrum. Why did he do that? To prove something to her? To earn her favor? Why?

He lift his gaze, and there, all her assumptions were proven wrong.

Through the mess of wavy raven locks of hair, bloodshot amber eyes glared at her with an intensity that made her ruffle her plumage. Her vision wavered as her instincts for some reason blared in alarm, but she couldn't take her eyes off his, as the wisps of shadows cast by the tree leaves danced around him.

This wasn't the weak stuttering human from earlier, or from her previous encounters with others. No. He was different all of a sudden, and he actually cut her and fought back. Though he stood no chance when it came to her fire, the way he did it was fairly technical, and quite vicious, even for a human. He even had a strange scent, like the ashes of a smoldering fire, the freshness of eucalyptus, the earthiness of his sweat, and the humid salt of an ocean, all at once; however, the latter was especially surreal as there was no seawater nearby.

She hated to admit it, but his scent was...Not unpleasant, yet compared to other humans, it was...Alien.

Not to mention she didn't expect him to understand every word she said. Pokémon could understand humans, but the reverse wasn't true, for some reason. Yet somehow 'this' guy was able to engage in full dialogue with her.

But right now, his aura screamed murderous intent, like an animal that had been imprisoned in a cage of its personal hell for years on end, bursting out all at once in violent retaliation from its repressed state, while simultaneously pleading in tearful agony for emotional relief. The sensation of his eyes on hers drove her spine to shiver as those ambers seemingly bore into the very recesses of her psyche, like the invading elongated limbs of an invisible monster, molding and twisting reality on a whim and trying to pry open her individuality, causing her mind to ache.

Their momentary eye contact was cut, with her odd headache subsiding and everything returning to normal, and the human's eyes rolling back as he fainted.

What the fuck was 'that'?

She was so distracted by the sight, that it was only now she registered the other human's presence behind her, with a mudkip in tow, but they looked like they were about to piss themselves. Not a threat.

A loud crack reverberated through the area, and the tree, where the so-called 'Professor Birch' was still hanging from, quivered and threatened to fall...This guy here wanted to help the professor but had come from the opposing direction with a strange foreign aroma. So they didn't know each other, yet despite the odd hatred he showed the capture-sphere, he still decided to help the man? It was all so confusing.

Again, she eyed the raven-haired man's bloody appendages, and the amount of blood he sacrificed to free her from the ball cage, painting the grass with it in his effort. Maybe he really wasn't the one who captured her, but the professor instead. Or perhaps there was a misunderstanding? Arceus...She had no clue, but it was possible she almost murdered the wrong person.

She was just sick of being used.

The tree cracked again and the human girl started panicking.

She made her choice.

I will have my answers.

…