@Mr. Person - Thanks for the review! Yeah, I make up words sometimes...
@kcander - Well...um...plot device? ^^; Funnily enough, "That's life sucker" wasn't in the original (FFnet) release of this chapter. Instead, there was a strange joke about pages, fourth walls, and Arcanine in plotholes. It didn't make any sense when ported to Pokecommunity, since you had to know about my author-self's little muse posse to get it, so I cut and pasted some new dialogue into that section.
Notes:
-- I am aware that the battle was probably too short and simple. But since this takes place in the anime-verse and a battle is won when the opponent is knocked out, rather than when a certain amount of damage is inflicted, I can bend the rules a bit. So sue me.
/~\~/~\~/~\~/~\~/~\
Chapter 4
Facing Goliath
Once again the exhilaration of battle washed over Fuega, lending her a vigor that was comparable to that of Raikou, the Beast of Speed itself. Instincts awoke in her, distant genetic memories from when her Charizard ancestors fought monsters like the one in front of her now. Size mattered not – somehow, Fuega knew that this was a fight that spirit would decide. And by Mew, she was going to win it.
“Iron Tail!”
“Dodge!”
It was as though a pillar of light was crashing to the ground. Fuega scrambled to the side, narrowly escaping the monstrous attack – she could feel the Iron Tail strike the ground, as a wave of displaced air. It dawned upon the Charmander that this opponent could not be defeated by a few measly Embers to the head. This was truly a beast from prehistory, a creature through which the battle urge flowed naturally as blood.
“Charmander, Metal Claw!”
Fuega struck at the now open tail with hardened claws, but the attack bounced harmlessly off of the Steelix’s iron skin. She would have to strike somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t protected…
Fuega scrambled up the Steelix’s long body, clambering over long spines and craggy ridges. The snake roared and lunged at her, but ended up ramming itself in the attempt, bellowing with the indignity. It seemed like the size difference was in Fuega’s favor after all.
About midway up the creature’s length, Fuega crawled to a position that gave her a clear shot at the space between two segments – an area of flesh that was unarmored. Raising her claws again, she prepared for another Metal Claw.
Steelix thundered with fury when it realized that the pest was between its armored plates. Ignoring all instruction from its Trainer, the serpent thrashed and twisted, delving into a blind rage…
And Fuega struck.
The noise was horrific – everyone, Fuega included, clasped hands over their ears to shield out the din. Steelix’s bellow was like an explosion, filled with pain and indescribable anger. Fuega inhaled deeply, preparing for an Ember that would feel like a Fire Blast to its recipient.
Flame…
The surface to which Fuega clung rippled and pulled away from her, throwing the lizard into the air. The world spun, and there was the ground, rushing…
~-~-~-~
“Charmander…Charmander, wake up…”
Fuega’s eyes opened slowly. Well, what do you know. A Pokemon Center. Again.
“…Charmander?”
Kevin hovered above her, looking worried and jubilant at the same time.
Gritting her teeth in a weak smile, Fuega let out a raspy reply. “Ouch…”
“You’re awake!” She was suddenly scooped up into her Trainer’s arms and given a long hug. Her head throbbed painfully, permeating her entire body with dizziness.
“Charmander, that was the most incredible battle! You climbed up and attacked that Steelix between the armor plates – it was roaring like mad – and then there was this little explosion from where you were, like a miniature mushroom cloud! You used Ember, didn’t you? And then the thing just screamed, and went down! You went flying, and hit the ground hard, and brought you to the Center, and
we got the Boulder Badge!!” He held up a small tin emblem.
Fuega stared at the Badge for a long time. “Ohhh, Mew. I cannot
believe this,” she hissed. For a moment, she felt absolutely livid – but then paused and reconsidered the situation.
That piece of metal…wasn’t just a piece of metal. It was a symbol that they had triumphed, a symbol that they had won the fight. Like battle scars – those angry red lines weren’t just remnants of deep gashes, but symbols that their recipients had survived against the odds. Perhaps this badge meant the same thing.
A symbol of victory.
~-~-~-~
Mount Moon loomed on the horizon, blocking out a huge chunk of sky. Aside from the whistling of cold mountain winds and the occasional chatter of a Sandshrew or Rattata, the foothills were eerily quiet. The path had slowly become rockier, and small cliffs rose on both sides of a small groupd of travelers. Freesk fluttered through the air above Kevin, occasionally descending to cling to the boy’s head. Fuega scampered alongside her Trainer on all fours, leaping from rock to rock when the path became narrow. Her claws clacked against the stone with each jump, accompanying Kevin's steady footsteps and Freesk's soft wingbeats.
As she bounded down to her Trainer’s side from a cliff, Freesk swooped towards her. “That was a really great battle,” he squeaked as he bounced along through the air beside her. “Getting in between the Steelix’s plates like that…I could never do that. You were really brave.”
Fuega definitely didn’t feel brave when she had done it. In fact, she had been terrified. She had wanted to win, so she did what she had to. But…
Why had she wanted to win? Had it been to save her own skin, or to better her own reputation? Had it been to make Freesk’s work worth the while? Or had she done it for Kevin?
With a shake of the head, Fuega decided she didn’t want to think about that right now. It was too complex, and it didn’t really matter at this point anyway. "Thanks," she growled to Freesk. Looking up, she realized that Kevin had stopped. The reason was about five feet in front of him.
A Spearow was standing there, looking ready for a confrontation. Its wings were slightly angled, in a position that would let the bird open them in under a second if he needed to.
“Rawk,” he croaked softly.
Kevin and Fuega met each others eyes and nodded. They both knew what the other was about to do – no words were exchanged. None were needed.
Fuega walked forward and took on a battle stance. “My Trainer wishes to challenge you,” she began in the customary speech, “and I will represent him in this fight. Fellow kin, if you are respectfully defeated, then my Trainer, my human brother, will gain the right to give you instruction – if you feel he is unworthy, then you need not comply. Do you understand and accept, my kin?” The same speech she had recited for Freesk; the one Bayleef had taught her to use, as a most basic courtesy.
The Spearow chuckled softly, but not malevolently. “It’s been a while since I heard the Challenge of the Trained. Aye, I understand and accept.” He spread his wings slowly, looking a bit like a martial artist shifting into a new position.
Fuega didn’t have the patience for a refined battle. She leapt forward and struck at the bird with her claws, and ended up slashing at thin air – he had moved out of the way at the last second. Something hard and sharp struck Fuega’s back, throwing her forward. She swiveled around to see the Spearow, beak still outstretched from a Peck attack.
The two danced around each other nimbly, Fuega having learned that she couldn’t stay in one spot for very long. The Spearow was fast and agile, moving more like a graceful Pidgeot than anything else.
“So,” he croaked, having just dodged a Metal Claw, “what is your name, Charmander?”
“Fuega,” she spat, lunging again.
“Ah.” He darted to the side and responded with a Peck, which Fuega avoided. “A beautiful name, and very fitting for a creature of fire. You may call me Zan.”
“Why,” – Fuega slashed wildly – “does it
matter?!”
“Common courtesy, youngling.”
Suddenly there were a thousand Zans, and they were all coming for Fuega. Just before the Fury Attack landed, she felt a wave of drowsiness wash over her…
The last thing she saw before her senses faded away was a blurred image of Kevin, holding up a red-and-white sphere.
~-~-~-~
How on earth did I nearly lose?
“Tackle!”
I beat a Steelix
, for Mew’s sake! And this Spearow comes along and nearly whups me…
“My name’s Freesk, but I don’t think this is the time to ask…”
But the Steelix couldn’t avoid my attack, I guess. It’s all a matter of circumstance…
“Sleep Powder!”
Freesk isn’t as bad as I thought he was. He’s nice, strong, kind of childish, but doesn’t give up.
“Awk!”
I’ve been a jerk. I’ll admit it, this whole situation is kind of fun, but I’ve been making a big stink out of it…
“That was great, Butterfree!”
And Kevin, too. I’m as much of a kid as he is. I acted all snooty…but I didn’t have any right to be like that.
I owe them both an apology…
~-~-~-~
Zan gazed around the Pokemon Center curiously, eyes wide with interest. “I’ve seen this place from the outside every day for three years,” he cawed, “but this is the first time in my life I’ve been inside.”
“So how does it feel to belong to a Trainer?” Freesk chirped.
The Spearow pondered this for a moment. “Different.”
Fuega stood off to the side, tapping her claws against each other nervously. “Um,” she began, then stopped. “Freesk?”
“What is it, Fuega?”
“I…eh…” Fuega felt supremely embarrassed. “Look, I’m sorry. I was kinda nasty to you before Pewter City, and I realized that I didn’t have any right to be like that. I’m sorry.” She stared at the floor intently.
“It’s okay. You were grumpy. I understand that.” Freesk extended a small purple hand. “But we’re gonna put that behind us, right? Friends?”
Fuega looked up, beaming. “Friends.” The two shook hands, grinning all the while.
~-~-~-~
In a dark, dank house on the outskirts of Cerulean City, a man snored loudly, stretched out on a tattered couch. The building was decrepit, and the pattering of Rattata feet was evident. The man himself was no cleaner than the house.
The noise of a phone ringing jerked the man awake. His small, bloodshot eyes snapped open and he lunged for the source of the sound.
“Hello?”
“Hello, sir. How is your Pidgey? Eating well?”
A password of some kind – nobody listening in would know what it meant, but the man holding the phone was perfectly aware. His mouth stretched into a yellowed grin.
“Oh yeah, she’s eatin’ fine. Just learned Whirlwind yesterday.”
A return code – whoever was on the other end knew that they had called the right number.
“Good, good… I’m calling about a Pokemon that I’m going to drop off. It’s a Charmander. And I’ll be back to pick it up on Monday. Is that clear?”
“Yeah. Anything I should know?”
“No, just a normal Charmander.”
“Your number’s 45. That’s how I’ll know it’s you when you come to pick up your Charmander.”
“Thank you, sir. Good day.”
The man hung up, looking pleased. This catch would snag him…oh, maybe 40 dollars. Any amount was good.
He lumbered through the cluttered and filthy house, pulling open a door that led to the basement. A few cages lined the walls of the large room – some were occupied. A few thin wails rose, but a bellow from the man silenced them all.
“Geddup,” he growled at a Zangoose curled in the corner. It was just as filthy as him, its white fur oily and streaked with dirt, jutting out at odd angles around its catlike face.
“We’ve got a job, Zangoose. A man just called in. Says he wants a Charmander, any Charmander. C’mon.”
Growling under its breath, the mongoose uncurled and stretched its limbs, flexing its blade-like claws. Its ears and tail twitched briefly, and it turned to the man with strangely blank eyes.
After the two left, there were some frightened murmurs from Pokemon in the cages. A rust-brown Vulpix was softly calling out comforting words to the more distressed captives, his six tails twitching in mild worry. He looked up to the cage above him. “Song, you think this could be it?”
A small Eevee stared down at him, a rebellious gleam in her eyes. “I know this is it. This Charmander comes, and we’re getting out of here. All of us.”
In the cage next to hers, a gaunt, ivory-furred Absol nodded. “All of us.”