Chapter One
~ The Body ~
~1~
"Hmmm..." the girl murmured, "Which should I choose? Tauros?
Miltank? Arcanine?" She sighed heavily in mock frustration.
"Decisions, decisions!"
Putting to one side the leather
jacket and tiger-print skirt she been deliberating over, she reached further
into the clothing rack and let out a squeal of excitement that made her
companion jump. "Oooo! Look!" she trilled, emerging from the forest
of clothes with a dress held triumphantly over her head, "Genuine Dodrio feathers!"
The stony expression of the boy
indicated he was not amused.
"I'm sorry," she
said, touching his arm in apology. "I know how you feel about this stuff
... but look at it! And look at this!" she cried, waving the price tag in
front of his face. "Half price!"
"Yes, it's lovely,"
the boy replied, deliberately looking at the floor as he said it.
"Oh, come on, Sen,"
the girl said. She added the Dodrio-feather dress to the pile of purchases
she'd accumulated, and sat down beside him on the chairs which the department
store had thoughtfully provided for its customers' bored husbands and
bewildered boyfriends. "What's wrong with you? You've been really
miserable all day. Normally nothing cheers you up quicker than flying into
The boy continued to look at
the floor, saying nothing. His left hand came up and flicked aside a stray
shard of dark black hair that had cut into his cream-coloured complexion. He
sighed dramatically.
Still the girl waited, sitting
companionably at his side. Eight years of friendship had taught her that,
eventually, the theatrics would subside and her friend would get to what was
actually bothering him.
At last, he did.
"I'm just fed up,
"I know, this time of year
sucks for you," she said. "But you always get over it. January's just
your bad month. Everybody has one ... and you, well, you have good reason to
feel a bit down around this time. But come February you'll be over it, just
like you always are. So how about we get a head start, and you help me pick out
a nice outfit? Hmm?" She smiled again, flashing a set of dazzling white
teeth that would have melted the heart of most men and had a distinctly
opposite affect on other parts of their anatomy.
The smile faltered when Sen
lifted his eyes to meet her own. She saw he was more upset than usual. For
whatever reason, this was going to be a particularly bad January.
"I just... I think I need
to be on my own for a little while," Sen said. "I think I'll go for a
walk."
"Oh, okay,"
They both stood up. She saw him
struggle to think of something amusing to say that would lift both of their
spirits.
Failing, he said simply,
"I'll see ya later."
"Seeya back at the
hotel,"
It was only as she was standing
in the line to pay that, after glancing at her watch, she noticed the date.
Crap, she thought. It happened today...
~2~
Sen left the clothing store and entered the main rotunda of the mall. He was
instantly swamped by noise, as the sound of a thousand different conversations
swelling towards the building's ceiling replaced the calming music that had
been piped into the store. Peregrine City's mall was only the sixth largest in
the province, but it was disarmingly easy to become lost in its labrynthine
floors of endless clothing, book and music stores, broken only occasionally by
a noisy oasis of food courts. To combat the feeling that its patrons were
entering the bowels of hell, the mall had been built with a glass exterior and
roof that allowed the sun's rays to penetrate to even the deepest floor. Sen
squinted now as the glare of the sun lanced into his eyes, which, combined with
the heat and noise of a mall full of people on a very busy shopping day,
motivated him to seek out the nearest exit and make his way towards it. Within
minutes he was out in the fresh air, the chaos of the mall behind him.
Stretched out before him was
the Mall Garden: a beautiful green lawn with a winding network of paths leading
to an impressive (if, to Sen's eye, slightly garish) marble fountain in the
middle of the park. Various people strolled along the paths, or sat on blankets
on the grass, enjoying the seasonable January warmth. As he passed a handsome
couple in their twenties preparing to lie down for a heavy duty session of
sunbathing - the girl applying sun lotion to her boyfriend's sculpted torso -
Sen offered up a silent thank you to the after affects of global warming which
made it all possible.
With the abundance of sun,
fresh air and male skin on show, Sen was starting to feel a little bit better
as he approached the marble fountain. He thought about sitting down on one of
the benches, listening to the gentle trickle of the water, and finishing that
novel he'd been trying to read for the past week.
That was when he saw them.
The fountain was mostly
deserted, except for a quartet of ridiculously attired teenagers who were
sitting by the water's edge and attempting, by their facial expressions, to
make themselves appear even more ridiculous. Beyond them, on the other side of
the fountain, the path stretched away towards the woods that surrounded the
park - a dark, rather forbidding area, full of wild Pokémon, it was especially
unattractive to most of the mall's patrons on such a beautiful day as this.
Between the other side of the
fountain and the edge of the wood, some Pokémon trainers were having practice
battles.
Sen stopped dead in his tracks,
so abruptly that an unseen couple walking behind bumped into him. He murmured an
apology, unable to stop staring at the dozen or so Pokémon trainers battling
just behind the fountain.
Sen walked towards them.
There were ten of them. All
young - fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. Undoubtedly, all first-time trainers just
setting out on their grand adventure. As usual, there were more boys than girls
- seven of the former, three of the latter. Only four trainers were actually
battling. The others had formed into a small circle, and were either watching
the battles or showing off their new starter Pokémon to the admiration of the
other trainers.
"Isn't he awesome?" a
sandy-haired boy standing in the middle of the circle of admirers said. At his
foot stood a small green lizard Pokémon, standing on its hind legs, with its
forearms folded over its chest. The Pokémon's large yellow eyes were
half-closed in a nonchalant, who-cares- what-you-think way, but even from his
current distance Sen could see its pupils eagerly flitting between the other
trainers' faces and soaking up the attention.
"Ooooh!" one of the
girls in the circle said, bending over the Pokémon, "look at him! He's so
cool! Look at how he folds his arms like that, it's so rebellious!"
"Yeah," the Treecko's
owner replied, "he's a real badass that way."
"What d'you call
him?" one of the other trainers asked.
"Treecky," the boy
replied, to murmurs of "Awesome" and "Cool name" throughout
the group.
Jesus Christ, Sen thought.
He turned his attention to one
of the battles. A blonde-haired boy of about fourteen was currently pitting his
Torchic against a red-headed kid's Mudkip.
"Torchic, use
Tackle!" the blonde kid ordered. The little orange bird lowered its head
and charged full scale at the opposing Mudkip.
"Mudkip, you use Tackle
too!" redhead responded. His Mudkip lowered its own head and charged at
the Torchic.
Sen averted his eyes as the two
Pokémon collided. When he looked back they were both lying in a heap, dazed but
fortunately unhurt, Mudkip's head-fin having absorbed most of the damage. The
two trainers congratulated their Pokémon and shook hands, pronouncing the
battle excellent as they returned the Pokémon to their Pokéballs.
The other battle was still
going on, and Sen now turned his attention to it. This time, it was two Mudkip
who faced each other. The trainers were slightly older, a boy and a girl of
about fifteen, and evidently they were more experienced in the ways of Pokémon
battling as both of their Mudkip had already mastered the Water Gun technique.
The two Pokémon were engaged in a face off, each spraying a jet of
high-pressure water from their mouthes which was aimed directly at their
opponent. The streams met in mid-air halfway between the two Pokémon, and the
situation was evidently stalemate.
"Come on, Mizu!" the
boy shouted. "Harder! You can do it! Come on, for god's sake, try
harder!"
In response, the Mudkip
standing before him squinted its beady black eyes shut and stepped forward,
forcing itself to advance on the opponent while maintaining the jet of water
coming from its mouth.
"Don't let him do
that!" the girl almost shrieked, waving her hands in frustration.
"Goru! You can do better than this! More power, NOW!"
The girl's Mudkip tried, but
failed. Its tiny legs shook, and it wobbled on its feet. The jet of water
coming from its mouth faltered and then dropped away as it collapsed onto its
side on the ground.
"Oh Jesus, Goru," the
girl cried in exasperation. Her opponent grinned, and pumped his fist in the
air as his own Mudkip looked slightly unsteady.
"Yeah, alright!" the
boy crowed. "Looks like we know who the better trainer is now!" He
walked over to the girl to continue gloating as his Mudkip, utterly exhausted,
joined the other Pokémon by collapsing into the dirt.
Some people, Sen thought, just
weren't meant to have Pokémon.
"Hey, you!" a voice
called out from behind him. Sen turned to find one of the trainers had broken
away from the others and was walking towards him. "You! You a Pokémon
trainer? Wanna battle my Treecko?" He raised his eyebrows, as if to say
Come on, I haven't got all day here.
"No," Sen said.
"I don't have any Pokémon. I'm not a trainer."
"Oh," the boy said.
Sen saw a series of emotions form in his eyes, eventually combining into a
mixture of pity, indifference and contempt. The boy made an apologetic gesture
with his hands and, wihtout another word, walked off to find somebody else to battle.
Sen had had enough. He walked
away from the young trainers without looking back, but the boy's expression
continued to play itself over and over in his mind.
~3~
He didn't remember making a conscious decision to enter the woods. He just
remembered walking. And being angry. Walking and being angry, his fists shoved
deep into the pockets of his trousers as they only ever were when something had
really made him mad. Walking, being angry, and wanting to put as much distance
between himself and those trainers as possible.
So that's what it takes to be a
Pokémon trainer these days, is it? he thought. Those are the necessary
qualities? A charming ignorance of strategy, a complete absence of empathy, a
pinch of arrogance and a real talent for devising crappy nicknames? That's
what's required, is it? Why, then those kids will go far. FAR.
A part of his mind tried to
speak up at this point by saying that he was better off out of it.
Unfortunately, this timid and altogether too reasonable part of his mind was
quickly shouted down by another part of his mind: the It's Not Fair part. The
It's Not Fair part always had its say, usually at the expense of logic and
always at the expense of reality. The It's Not Fair part was dominant in Sen's mind,
and it was in close cahoots with the part of him that wanted to Show Them All.
It's not fair, he thought. It's
just plain unjust, is what it is. It makes no sense, none whatsoever. One
little mistake ... one tiny, small, miniscule miscalculation, one unbelievably
minor error of judgement, made back when I was a much younger and entirely
different person, and they blackball me for life. No second chances. No
reprieve. No rehabilitation. No three strikes and you're out. Complete and
total banishment, for life.
While these people, these
awful, awful people, are welcomed with open arms as the future of Pokémon
training. They're given scholarships and starter Pokémon and welcomed in by
complete strangers every time they land their free-loading arses in a new town.
They're made to feel like heroes just because they turned fourteen and they
think Mudkip are cute. It's un- bloody-believable.
The It's Not Fair part of his
mind, divorced as ever from reality, here decided to conjure up an old fantasy
in which he was somehow able to travel back in time several years and make his
choices over again. To put right what had gone wrong. To give himself a
completely different future, a better one. A slight glow of happiness pervaded
Sen's body at such an idea, but he became all the more cold for the necessary
realisation that such a thing could never happen.
His choices had been made, and
they couldn't be unmade.
His life's course was set in
stone.
Jensen Delaney would never be a
Pokémon trainer.
He was so lost in his thoughts
that he didn't even notice the path he had been walking on was growing more and
more dirty, the trees were crowding closer and blocking out the light, and
low-level vegetation was encroaching ever more onto he dirt trail he was now
walking on. A wet leaf smeared dampness across his arm; he hardly felt it. A
puddle of muddy water splashed dark brown stains over his obscenely expensive
footwear; he didn't see it.
Why do you even care about this
stuff? he asked himself. What's so great about being a Pokémon trainer? Why do
you want to be one of THEM? You despise those people. You loathe them with
every fibre of your being. Why on Earth would you want to join them?
Look at your life, he thought.
It's not so bad. In fact, it's pretty damn great, compared to most people's.
You have plenty of money. You can go wherever you want, do whatever you want.
You have great friends. Okay, you have a bunch of people that you kind of like
most of the time and ONE great friend, but that's still better than most
people. Most people would give their right arm to have a friend like
The answer his mind gave never
came in words. It never formed itself into a coherent response to the charges
that his more rational self held against it. Instead, he just felt a vague but
powerful feeling, hovering somewhere above his stomach. A want. A need. He was
missing out on something, something really big. He wanted to be a Pokémon
trainer. It didn't have to be like those people in the park, or like every
other trainer he'd met. It could be different. He could be different.
Suddenly, he was stopped in his
tracks by a rustling sound in the bushes behind him. Three things drove all of
the previous thoughts from his mind.
He was alone in the middle of
the wood, separated from the trail and with no idea where he was.
It was very dark.
Something was emitting a low,
menacing growl from directly behind him.
~4~
Very
slowly, Sen turned towards the source of the growling.
The trees towered above him,
blocking out almost all of the light, so that he could only make out a vague
outline of the creature's shiny black pelt against the murkiness of the wood.
It was almost as big as Sen, but the lack of light made Sen doubt his own eyes.
It was probably larger than he could tell. The only features he could make out
clearly were two powerful white horns glowing in the darkness, shaped like
those of a ram, below which the creature's eyes glinted with blank malevolence.
Its orange muzzle was pulled back in a snarl that exposed its fangs. A drop of
saliva dripped from its mouth and shimmered as it fell to the ground where it
made an almost undetectable hissing sound.
Sen was not an expert on every
species of Pokémon - few people, even experienced trainers, knew every single
variety - but there were a few creatures that he had always remembered because
they had either captured his imagination, his heart, or his dreams. Or, in the
case of the beast standing before him, fuelled more than one nightmare.
The Houndoom continued to
growl, and placed its paw forward.
Sen's first thought was that it
must be a dream. His second thought was to marvel that such a cliched idea -
the one that always occurred to characters in books when they found themselves
in such a situation - had actually crossed his mind. His third thought was that
he had to get away, FAST.
"Hello," Sen found
himself saying in a small, scared voice. "What d'you want? Food? I don't
have any!" Maybe it thinks I'm a trainer, he thought. Maybe it wants to
battle? "I'm not a trainer, look! See? No Pokéballs!" He waved his
arms to illustrate the absence of Pokéballs at his waist, but the Houndoom
merely growled louder and stepped toward him. Sen stepped backwards.
The Houndoom growled more
fiercely, and squatted back on its haunches, preparing to leap forward.
Sen stepped backwards again.
The Houndoom flattened its
ears, opened its mouth and leapt at him. Sen saw ribbons of saliva swing from
its jaws.
He stepped backwards, and then
the world turned upside down.
He was falling, and then there
was a hard thump and he was rolling. He was getting wet and dirty, and
occasionally something sharp and heavy struck him, but he just rolled over it,
getting faster and faster. Is this that death feels like? he wondered. This is
kinda fun! Wheeee!
Then he struck something really
heavy, and the world was all pain followed by blackness.
He woke up feeling his own blood rushing over his legs.
Great, he thought, I'm dead.
But this was rather cold for
blood, wasn't it? Rather cold, and there was rather a lot of it. Who could've
believed the young boy had so much blood in him? Sen wondered.
He forced his eyes to open,
something he never would have believed could be so difficult. He blinked a few
times and the world gradually came into focus.
Not blood, he thought. Water.
I'm lying in a river.
Indeed he was. He was lying at
the bottom of a steep hill, his path down it revealled by a trail of muck and
dirt which had been raked up, most of which was now clinging to his body. From
below the waist he was lying in shallow river. Shallow, but deep enough that,
had he slipped a few more feet, he would have drowned while unconscious.
Sen tried to move, but his
lower body was completely numb with cold. His upper body unfortunately wasn't, and
a hundred different cuts, bruises and sprains made their presence known at the
slightest movement of his muscles. He spat several times, eventually coughing
up some grass and, he was alarmed to notice, a small trace of blood. Must've
bit my tongue while I fell, he thought.
Then he remembered the
Houndoom, and even the sorest part of his body didn't stop him making it to his
feet.
He staggered over towards the
river bank. One of his shoes had come off, and he noticed it lying propped against
a rock, its light cyan colours drenched a much darker navy by the water flowing
over it. There's fifty quid I'll never see again, he thought as he plucked it
from its resting place. He eventually made it to the other side, where he
collapsed on his knees, cold, exhausted and utterly bewildered.
He looked around him. The slope
he'd fallen down had been obscured trees. He'd unwittingly fallen through the
foliage and rolled down the hill as he backed away from the Houndoom. There was
a small clearing here, but the river appeared from and disappeared into thick
clumps of trees. He still had no idea where he was.
Had he really encountered a
Houndoom, though? It was beginning to seem like a far away event, something
that had happened years ago, maybe to another person, if at all. How long had
he been unconscious? He looked at his watch, but its shattered face made the
time difficult to read. He eventually made it out: it was flashing at
Then he saw the body.
Hang on, he thought, AM I dead?
But this was not his body.
Lying face down on the grass several feet away, its bright, almost platinum
blonde shoulderlength hair was markedly different to Sen's own short, jet-black
style. Was it a girl? A boy? A woman? Corpses today, Sen thought insanely - you
couldn't tell whether they were men or women!
The body was dressed in a light
blue shirt, long, baggy black trousers, with a pair of semi-expensive red
trainers on its feet. Not bad style, Sen thought - not great, but not bad. One
of its arms was lying along its side, and the other was stretched out before it
on the ground, as if whoever it was had died doing the breast stroke. There was
a moss-green backpack over its shoulders - the practical yet semi-fashionable
kind favoured by hikers and Pokémon trainers.
Whatever happened to him, Sen
thought, he didn't fall down here like I did. There's no dirt or anything on
him, he's not even wet. He just looks like he fell face-down and died. Jesus
Christ. I'm lying in the middle of the woods on the run from a Houndoom and
there's a dead body not ten feet away!
Wait a minute, he realised.
Maybe he's not dead. He doesn't look dead - I mean, there's nothing wrong with
him, apart from the fact that he's lying face down in the woods, that is. Maybe
he's just hurt. Or weird.
He should probably go and check.
Sen pushed himself to his feet,
and limped towards the body/person lying face down in the clearing. As he got
closer, his sense of fear increased. What's wrong with you? he thought. Even if
he is dead, he can't hurt you! Unless he died of some terrible disease ... but
if that's the case then you've already got it just by being here!
Gosh, Sen said to himself,
thanks for the comfort.
So, what're you waiting for?
He approached the body/person.
"Hello?" Sen said with
unusual timidity. "Are you ... are you okay?"
No response from the
body/person.
Maybe he's unconscious, Sen
thought. He could suffocate. I should probably move him onto his back.
"Hey, uh, guy," Sen
said, "or girl, I mean, I don't know, the hair's kind of misleading. I'm
just going to try to move you onto your back, so, if you're really okay don't
go all psycho on me or anything."
Getting no response, he got
down on his knees beside the body/person. He reached towards the body/person's
shoulder, hesistated, and then grabbed it, lifting him up.
It was a body, all right.
Sen leaped backwards, a scream
caught in his throat. He scooted away from the body on his back, trying to
block out the images that were forcing themselves into his mind. Trying to
forget what he'd just seen. Redness. Ragged flesh. White bits ... bone? Two
dark holes where the eyes should have been. A bloody bump where once had dwelt
a nose. And ... further down on the grass ... the shredded remains of what Sen
was fairly sure had once been this guy's internal organs. As soon as Sen
dispelled one image, another saw its opportunity and leapt with glee to the
forefront of his mind.
My gods, Sen thought. Something
... something chewed him up. Jesus Christ. Something ate this guy.
Except that it hadn't. The body
was still there. Chewed up, mutilated, dead. But not eaten. Whatever had done
this hadn't been motivated by hunger. It had simply wanted to kill.
When he had moved sufficient
distance away, Sen finally allowed himself to look at the body again. It was
again just a normal person lying face-down in the grass, the horrid truth
hidden once more.
The Houndoom, Sen thought. The
Houndoom ripped this guy up, and it's probably out there looking for me now,
wanting to do the same to me. I have to get out of here.
He got back up to his feet and
looked around. He hobbled in one direction, remembered his lost shoe, hobbled
back and put it on his foot. He stared around him wildly, expecting the
Houndoom to appear at any minute. He had to get away.
But where? He had no idea where
he was. He hadn't even known where he was before he'd fallen down the hill. As
usual, he'd been walking along, lost in his own thoughts, not paying attention
to what had been happening around him. The same kind of stuff that always got
him in trouble. The stuff that would, it seemed, get him killed.
Your cell phone! his mind
suddenly shouted. Ring for help!
Sen reached into his pocket and
closed his hand around something that felt much too jagged and pointy to be his
cell phone. He brought out the crushed piece of technology and held it up to
his face. The screen, like his watch's face, was shattered, but in the corner
of one fragment the battery bar cheerfully reminded him he had full power. The
signal bar was empty, naturally, because the aerial had broken off.
He put the phone back in his
pocket. What now? He looked around. The guy's backpack! Of course! He probably
had a phone, or something - he looked like a trainer, and no trainer went out
without a phone. Well, unless they were poor. But this guy didn't look poor.
He'd probably have a phone, and since he didn't fall, it would probably be
intact. Sen could call for help.
But he didn't want to approach
the body.
Don't be so pathetic, he
thought. I don't even have to touch him, just his backpack.
He walked towards the body,
slowly at first, then hurrying as he thought about the creature that was
searching for him. He reached for the backpack and tried to pull it off, but it
was still firmly attached around the body's arms. Not wanting to look at what
was currently being hidden by the grass, Sen unzipped the backpack and started
rooting around to see what he could find. He pulled out a half-eaten chocolate
bar and threw it aside. He found a few pairs of clothes bundled up. It looked
like this guy had just been starting out on whatever it was he'd been doing
before he'd encountered the Houndoom - he was travelling fairly light.
Underneath the clothes Sen found a book, which he pulled out and searched
under. Nothing else. No phone.
Damn, he thought. He looked
around in despair. What was he to do now?
He looked at the book. It was
rare to find actual paper books these days; most people preferred the
downloadable E-books like the one that had been stored on Sen's mobile phone
before its untimely death. It had a plain red cover, no picture. No title,
either. He opened it up, and found it was a journal. The entries were written
in tight, almost unreadable cursive, and Sen found it difficult to make out
what they said. He gave up trying - after all, it wouldn't exactly help him get
out of his current situation.
He closed the book, and that
was when something fell out. Sen looked at his feet: there, by his left shoe,
was a small card, about the size of a credit card, lying face-down on the
ground. Just by the colour of it, Sen could tell what kind of card it was. It
had been a long time, but Sen recognised that card now and always would. Its
image had been burned into his memory since the day he'd watched his own be
shredded before his eyes.
A trainer card.
Sen bent over and picked it up,
turning it over to read its front. Unlaminated, made of thin blue card, trainer
ID cards were contrived to be as low-tech as possible. The bearer's name was
written in stylish copperplate, along with a crisply typed ID number. There was
no other information - not even a photograph. Sen had to smile despite himself.
That was Pokémon League for you. All about honour, and dignity, and all of that
bollocks which basically boiled down to pretending that Pokémon training was
some kind of ancient art that had been around since the dawn of time itself.
Ridiculous. As stupid and fallible an idea as these cards themselves. They
weren't even supposed to be a form of ID - as the League so pompously said, the
only ID a trainer needs is his reputation, nothing else. In an era of computers
and constant data collection, where Big Brother and his extended family always
had their eye on you, the Pokémon League had staunchly refused to conform,
preferring instead to keep minimal records on its trainers. Part of this, Sen
knew, was a desire to maintain its image of quiet, almost anachronistic
dignity, but another part was a fear of the shrill civil liberties groups who
always rattled their sabres at the slightest sign of somebody wanting to know
anything more revealling than your middle name. The Pokémon League system was
foolish and ripe for abuse, but Sen also had to grudgingly admit that, so far,
nobody had stepped up to take advantage of it. The trainers had acted with
every bit of the respect and honour that the League expected of them, the
sanctimonious gits that they were. It annoyed him no end.
So, Sen thought, this guy was a
trainer. Then where did his Pokémon go? If he already had his ID card, he had
to have at least picked up a starter Pokémon. But the backpack had contained no
Pokéballs.
Hmm, he thought, maybe the
Houndoom got it?
He looked at the name on the
card: Richard Sooter, ID No. 387654998. Okay, Mr. Sooter, what happened to your
Pokémon?
Sen examined the area around
the body - perhaps his Pokéballs had rolled away. There was nothing in the
immediate area, but something red and a few feet away caught his eye. He walked
over, and found a single Pokéball hidden behind a clump of grass, just beyond
the dead trainer's outstretched hand. It looked like he'd been about to call on
his Pokémon before the Houndoom had laid into him.
So why hadn't the Pokémon come
out to defend its trainer?
A horrible idea struck Sen.
Perhaps, the Houndoom belonged to Sooter. Perhaps his Pokémon had turned on
him, for some bizarre reason.
No, that didn't make any sense.
How would a new trainer, just starting out, end up with a Houndoom? It was hard
to tell from what Sen glimpsed of his featureless remains, but Richard Sooter
didn't look much younger than Sen, if he was younger. He could've been a late
starter, finishing school before starting out on a career as a Pokémon trainer.
A lot of people did that nowadays, it gave them something to fall back on when
they got their asses handed to them by the first Gym Leader they faced.
So, how could a new trainer get
a Houndoom? Was it a gift? A treasured pet he'd trained for many years that had
fortuitously evolved into a stronger Pokémon as they started out on their
journey together? Many trainers were allowed to start out with non-regulation
starter Pokémon, Sen knew. But that made no sense either. If the Houndoom had
been Sooter's faithful friend for many years, why did it rip his guts out now?
Sen bent down and picked up the
Pokéball. He shook it, but of course there was no way to tell if it contained a
Pokémon ... no way other than to call on it, something he was not anxious to
do. Supposing something worse than the Houndoom emerged from it ...
Suddenly, Sen heard a snarl,
and he turned to see a dark shape racing towards him through the clearing. He
stepped backwards, and this time he tripped over Richard Sooter's body,
dropping the Pokéball to the ground. He landed on his back, rolled, and
stumbled to his feet, trying to get away from the Houndoom, looking for any
means of escape.
There were none.
Sen faced the snarling Pokémon,
the dense thicket of vegetation and trees behind him, the river to his right,
to his left more trees. There was no way out. The Houndoom advanced slowly, and
Sen could see a chilling look of almost human triumph in its furious brown
eyes. It knew it had him.
Movement to the left caught
Sen's eye. He snapped his head around to see that the Pokéball he dropped was
twitching in the grass. Once, twice, three times. Then it stopped. Suddenly, it
began to shake violently. The ball flipped open, and a burst of white light
leaped out from inside it.
I'm saved! Sen's mind cried
out.
The light landed on the grass
between Sen and the perplexed Houndoom, where it began forming into a shape. A
disappointingly small shape. As the light faded, a small orange bird
materialised between Sen and his would- be killer. The Pokémon looked around a
few times, its three large head feathers flopping around comically, and it
blinked its beady black eyes.
"Torchic!" it
announced.
I'm dead, Sen's mind moaned.
The little Pokémon was barely
as big as the Houndoom's head. The devil dog looked between Sen and the
Torchic, as if deciding which would be easier to kill first. In a period of
time that was so short Sen would have considered it insulting under other
circumstances, the Houndoom decided on Sen, and began to advance on him.
About to attempt his tried and
tested plan of backing away and hoping for the best, Sen began stepping
backwards, but the Houndoom stopped moving. Confused, Sen looked down to see
the small chick Pokémon viciously pecking the Houndoom's forepaw.
The Houndoom snarled and
snapped its head forward with lightning speed. Sen was sure he saw the Torchic
disappear inside its mouth, but it had in fact leapt to the right and landed a
particularly vicious peck on the Houndoom's other forepaw. Sen was surprised to
see the little bird's beak draw blood, and even more surprised when the
Houndoom withdrew its foot with what could only be described as a pained whine.
The Torchic ran underneath the Houndoom's belly, and began its assault on the
right back leg, until the Houndoom twisted its body around, snapping its jaws
after the little bird. But, fast as the Houndoom was, the Torchic was too
quick; as Sen watched in amazement, the bird was suddenly on the Houndoom's
back, scoring its beak along the dark pelt of its shoulderblades, blood welling
up in a thick red line. The Houndoom cried out and rolled onto its back; the
Torchic was on its belly, pecking viciously, as the Houndoom writhed and tossed
and tried to dislodge its tiny but formidable attacker.
Is it me, Sen wondered, or is
that Torchic beating up a Houndoom?
Eventually the Houndoom's
snapping jaws came too close for comfort, and the little bird leapt back. The
Houndoom was on its feet in an instant, fuelled by pain and rage - and probably
humiliation as well. After all, Sen thought, nobody likes to be embarrassed in
front of potential prey. The Houndoom chased after the spritely little bird as
it ran in dizzying circles around the clearing, drawing ever nearer to the
river.
The river! Sen thought.
Torchic, a Fire Pokémon, would be trapped between the dangers of the water and
the certain death of the Houndoom.
Hang on, Sen thought. Isn't
Houndoom a Fire type, too?
The Torchic had reached the end
of the bank, and the Houndoom was approaching it with none of the arrogance it
had reserved for Sen. It intended a quick, unsavoured kill.
Without thinking, Sen dashed
forward and raced towards the Houndoom. He threw himself at it, hitting it in
the rib cage with his shoulder. The Pokémon was almost as heavy as Sen, but he
caught it by surprise, and it toppled off the edge of the bank. There was a
terrific splash, and Sen saw the Torchic race away from the spray that was sent
up onto the bank. He heard a violent hissing sound, as well as splashing, as he
looked around to see great clouds of steam rising from the water. The Houndoom
splashed its way down the river, yelping in pain and surprise, contact with the
water doing more to damage it than all of Torchic's wounds combined. It eventually
made it to the other side of the river and clambered out. It didn't have to
shake its hide clean, as the water was already evaporating off it in waves, but
Sen was happy to notice that its arrow-shaped tail was placed firmly between
its legs. With a self-pitying, defeated whine - and not a look back - the
Houndoom trotted briskly into the woods and was gone.
His heart humming in his chest,
Sen took a few deep breaths before turning around to see if the Torchic was
okay. It was standing on the grass, looking up at him with its ridiculously
large head. He walked towards it, and it hopped back a few steps. He got down
on his knees, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm.
"Hey, I just wanted to
thank you," he said, in as pleasant and non- threatening a voice as he
could muster. "You saved my life."
The bird looked at him, and
hopped back a half-step.
Sen was puzzled. How could a
Torchic take on a Houndoom, and yet be wary of him?
He slowly extended one of his
hands towards the little Pokémon. "Hey, don't be afraid," he soothed,
"come on, you cute little fella, let me pet you."
As Sen's hand got nearer the
Torchic suddenly darted forward and pecked him, hard, on the finger. Sen
snapped his hand back and clutched it. "Jesus Christ!" he cried. He
forced himself to look at it: a round welt of blood was already welling up on
his index finger.
"God, what's wrong with
you?" he asked the Torchic. Already it had left him, and was approaching
the body of its trainer.
"Oh," Sen said,
lowering his voice. "I'm sorry ... I guess you miss your trainer. It's
awful to lose someone you care about, I know. I mean, I don't KNOW, since I've
never lost anyone I care about, but I imagine it sucks." The Torchic
didn't even turn, but continued to stare at Sooter's body. Suddenly, it darted
forward, and began pecking at the hand nearest it.
"Hey, don't do that!"
Sen cried, running forwards and picking up the Torchic. "You can't bring
him back that way! Just leave him!" The Torchic struggled in his hands,
pecking him again and again. It was like a bag of pipe-cleaners come to life,
wriggling and jabbing at him. "Ow, ow!" Sen said. He searched around
for the Pokéball, found it, and pointed it at the Pokémon. "Return!"
he said, and a beam of red light hit the Torchic and sucked it back inside its
ball.
"Jesus," Sen said,
dropping the ball and looking at his hands, now covered in bloody red dots.
"What the hell is wrong with that Pokémon?"
He looked around the clearing.
All was silent again. Just him, a dead body, a book, a trainer card, and a
Pokéball containing a seriously disturbed Torchic.
Sen didn't know what time it
was, but he was certain it was getting late. And the later it got, the worse
were his chances of getting out of the wood alive. He stood up. He picked up
the Torchic's Pokéball, the book, and the trainer card. He looked back at
Sooter's body.
"Sorry, Rich," Sen
said. "I'll send somebody back to get you. Uh ... bye."
Realising the lunacy of what
he'd just said, Sen rolled his eyes and walked out of the clearing.
In the opposite direction, of
course, from the exit of the Houndoom.
~5~
He followed the river for what seemed like an hour. Gradually the light was
fading, and he began to hear the first distant murmurs of Hoothoot coming out
for the night. Occasionally he was surprised by a rustling in the undergrowth,
and sometimes a small creature - a Rattata, a Zigzagoon or perhaps a Sentret up
particularly late - would dash between the bushes in front of him. But he saw
and heard nothing of the Houndoom. It seemed to have decided to leave him
alone, for now.
As he walked, he replayed the
events of the day in his mind.
What a day, Sen thought. Talk
about going through the wringer. First I have to watch a bunch of snot-nosed
little brats setting off on their Pokémon adventures, which just depresses the
heck out of me as it does every year because I can't join them. Hell, join
them? SHOW them. Show them how pathetic they are by doing it so much better
than they ever dreamed. I can't show them because the Pokémon League have
decided that I don't fit their "moral criteria" for what a Pokémon
trainer should be. Yeah, I failed some test which those idiots in the park
today passed. How's that for a pick-me-up.
It could be worse, he thought.
I could be lying dead in the middle of a wood, a chew-toy for a man-eating
Houndoom, like that poor guy Sooter. Jesus, that was bad. In a way, it's lucky
I came along. Out there, in the middle of the woods, his body could've gone
undiscovered for months ... years, even.
He shuddered.
And if that Houndoom had got
me, the same would be true of MY body.
As he walked, he thought about
Sooter's sad remains, alone in the darkness, unnoticed. Did he have parents?
Family? Friends who wondered where he was? Most likely he did... but he hadn't
been reported missing. Nothing had been on the news. Of course, Sooter probably
wasn't long dead ... the flies hadn't even gotten to him yet, so his parents
might not even realise he was missing.
Yuck, Sen thought, and decided
to think no more about Sooter's remains.
All in all, it's lucky I came
along, his mind continued. He looked down at the book under his arm, and the
Pokéball in his pocket. Almost all of Sooter's travelling possessions were on
his person now. Hell, if something happened to Sen and Sooter's body was
discovered by someone else, they wouldn't even be able to tell who he was. Sen
had the guy's trainer card, and since his face was mostly gone (including,
although Sen tried not to dwell on it, most of his teeth), there would be no
way to identify the body for sure. At least, not until his parents or friends
or whatever turned up.
And then an idea occurred to
Sen that simultaneously appalled and intrigued him.
Dear gods, he thought, what's
WRONG with you? How could you even entertain a possibility like that? It's
sick! Don't think about it.
But his mind wouldn't let him.
The idea had captured his imagination, and his brain wouldn't let it go. It
turned the idea over and over, examining its possibilities, extrapolating all
likely outcomes, looking for flaws and oversights.
Sen had Richard Sooter's
trainer card. The trainer card, symbolising the trust which the League placed
in all of its trainers, was the sole method of identification needed to gain
entry to Gyms, Pokémon Centres, and even the Pokémon League itself. No trainer
was to let the card out of their sight; if they did, they were to be deemed
just as much a failure as any individual who misused it.
Sen had a trainer card, and the
trainer it belonged to was lying dead in the middle of the woods. Nobody but
Sen knew he was dead, and nobody but Sen knew where the body was.
In other words, Sen thought,
who's to say that Richard Sooter isn't alive and well and walking back through
these woods towards civlisation right now?
He stopped in his tracks. Could
he really be entertaining such an idea? And could it really WORK?
It could be the answer to all
of his dreams. All Sen needed was one chance, an opportunity, to get his foot
back in the door. One small way in that he could use to show those chumps what
he could do.
He opened the book and took out
Sooter's trainer card.
Fate, it seemed, had provided
him with such a chance. The only question now was ... would he take it?
You can't, he thought. Think of
the guy's family. His parents, his friends, his brothers and sisters. They'll
worry about him. Do you really want to put them through the hell of not knowing
if he's alive or dead? Don't be a moron. It was a funny coincidence, a unique
set of events that sparked off a strange and sick idea in your head, but you're
not going to act on it. You know what you have to do. You have to go to the
nearest police station and tell them you found Sooter's body, and also tell
them there's a vicious Houndoom prowling the woods. That's all there is to it,
my friend.
Except that wasn't all there is
to it. So what if he's got family? Sen thought. He's dead. Them knowing that
now won't change anything. He'll still be dead. And a few months of not knowing
if he IS dead or not will give them a chance to get used to the possibility.
He realised he was
rationalising, but that didn't seem to stop him.
I have a chance here, a real
chance, to make something of my life. Am I going to give that up because some
run-of-the-mill Pokémon trainer happened to die, like millions of people die
every day?
Am I?
He walked on. Eventually, he came across one of the paths that led out of the
wood and back into the park. It was dark by this time, and fortunately there were
very few people to see the dishevelled, bloody, soaking-wet wreck who emerged
from the woods with an oddly thoughtful expression on his face. It was nine o'
clock by the time he made it to the subway station, and it was almost ten by
the time he got back to the Peregrine Plaza Hotel.
By the time he'd showered and
changed in his bedroom, he'd decided what he was going to do.
~6~
"I've decided to stay on here for a few days,
She stopped in the middle of
folding up a cerise jumper and looked over at him.
"What?" she asked.
Sen swallowed. This was it.
Could he be convincing? Could he lie well to his oldest friend? He looked at
the cerise jumper as she folded it and packed it into her suitcase. Well, he thought,
I managed it when she bought that monstrosity.
"Yeah, I've decided I need
a little time to myself," he said. "I don't feel like going back home
and seeing everyone yet. I thought I'd stay in Peregrine, do some shopping,
catch up on my reading, just try to relax for a while."
She was watching him carefully.
"You know I have work Monday," she said. "I have to go
back."
"Yeah. That's okay. I
mean, no offence, I'd just like to be on my own for some time."
She looked hurt.
"Hey, no!" Sen said,
coming over and hugging her. "You've been great, absolutely great, like
always, sweetie. Believe me, there's nobody apart from you that I could even
have stood to be around for the past week. But you've helped me a lot, just
like you always do."
She hugged him back. "I
just ... I don't like the thought of you being here on your own when you're
down like this,"
"I know, but I'm not
down," Sen said. He even managed a cheery smile. "I'm perky!
Look!"
She raised a sardonic eyebrow.
"Okay, so I'm not exactly
euphoric just yet, but I'm getting there. And believe me, a few days in
Peregrine by myself will do more to help me than going back and listening to
Mimsy talk about her bloody ski trip."
Sen planted a kiss on her
cheek. "I love you," he said.
~7~
All in all, it was surprisingly easy.
Fortunately, Sen had packed
very little luggage, and had managed to give a lot of it to Charlotte to take
back with her. He had just one overnight bag to take with him when, for the
first time in over five years, Jensen Delaney checked into a Pokémon Centre to
spend the night.
Or rather, Richard Sooter
checked in.
Only a few of the trainers were
still awake in the lodging area, watching an old black and white sci fi movie
and giggling. Sen joined them, but there was little conversation as everyone
was exhausted. Eventually, one by one they said goodnight and crept off to the
uncomfortable and noisily creaking cots which had been set up by the Centre
staff. Sen went last, switching off the television set before he left. He was
utterly drained. It had been a monumental day.
Had he left the TV on five
minutes longer, he would have seen something unexpected.
~8~
"It's unbelievable, isn't it?" Sylvia said to her colleague. She'd
worked for twenty years as a Pokémon Centre nurse in the metropolis that was
Peregrine, and in that time she'd seen her fair share of horrific accidents.
And, as always when new trainers started out each year, a good number of them
got hurt, sometimes even killed.
But never anything like this.
As she and two other nurses
stared at the TV mounted on the wall of the Pokémon Centre, the sombre tones of
the news reporter filled the room. Behind him, on screen, police and ambulance
men in luminous uniforms were working on something that was obscured from view.
Below the reporter, the words 'BREAKING NEWS' scrolled across the screen.
"... this grisly
discovery," the reporter intoned. "Police have no idea who the young
man is, but his body has been severely mutilated, possibly by a wild Pokémon.
Police are intrigued, however, by the disturbances around the crime scene which
appear to have taken place after the death. Spots of blood have been recovered
which, ballistics analysis indicate, did not come from the victim, and may have
come from an attacker or a third party.
"The body was discovered
by a family of campers who had been looking for a clearing in the woods in
which to set up their tents. All five members of the family are now receiving
counselling.
"Police say that the body
has no identification, but he appears to have been a trainer, despite the
absence of Pokéballs or a licence on his person. They are urging all families
with children who are starting out as Pokemon trainers to contact them
immediately ..."
Above it all, in an uncomfortable metal cot, Sen slept soundly.