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In Progress Chilren Playing Pokemon (T rated)

KayKay

New member
So I've gotten into a bad habit: Crappy pokemon fanfiction writing. A guilty pleasure I must admit. I know it's kind of weird for a 22-year-old to still be writing pokemon fanfiction. I guess I just never had much success at it in my teenage years and kind of want to give it another bash. Writing was never my strong point, I was always better at drawing.

Oh well, though. Here goes a little summary for those who are just looking for a quick glance and aren't sure if they want to read all of the first chapter: This is a pokemon fanfiction where the main characters in the real world are sucked into the pokemon world. I can hear the groans already, "not another one of those". Yeah I won't say there's anything really special about mine because there's not, other than the fact the main characters enter the pokemon world in their dreams and re-awaken back in reality every day. Also, the pokemon world in their dreams is much influenced by their own perceptions but it's also reltively stable and consistent (as far as I can manage), and the laws of reality in the dream world don't change by the second like in a regular dream. The genere is kind of drama mixed with paranormal mixed with family mixed with friendship, but mostly drama. Not very action-heavy, there's a little bit of it but not heaps of it.


CPP Chapter 1



"Dililininilinilinilinini....."

"Dun dun dun dudududun! Duh-dun dun dun dudududun,... dun...."

"Din din din didididin...."

"I choose you Typhlosion!"

The little boy threw a plastic red and white ball from behind an over-sized sleeve. It landed on the grass uneventfully. The boy covered the several-sizes-too-big sleeves over his mouth and made a croaking "Typhlosion!" cry.

"That's not how typhlosion sounds!" The large boy opposite him scoffed. "Typhlosion sounds like this! Raurghrblrgh!!"

The little boy posed in his borrowed trench coat, sleeves hanging well below his wrists, and adjusted his big brother's borrowed cap on his head off to the side. "Well MY typhlosion is different! MY typlosion can speak!"

"Nu-uh you can't do that!" The large boy stomped forward towards his friend.

"Can too! Meowth speaks!"

"Yeah but that's the only one that can speak out of ALL the pokemon!" The large boy clenched his fists to his sides. "And-and-and the rules of the game is you can't have talking pokemon!" He nodded his head in agreement to his own words.

"Nu-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"I'm telling Richard you're making up the rules as you go!" The little boy turned around, almost tripping up over his borrowed trench coat.

"Then-then-then..." The larger buy's chin quivered as he struggled to find a comeback, "you're not playing pokemon with me ever again!" He nodded his head again as if confirming his own agreement with his words.

Childhood squabbles were common. They were almost always followed by periods of uninterrupted playing and fun. They never stayed angry with each other for long. Most of the time they forgot what they were fighting about, and then just unanimously made up on the spot. They were brothers after all - that's just what brothers do.

Down the line as they got older they changed. They were best friends at home but outside they became more distant. That's natural - they were becoming their own individuals. Seeking their own interests and developing them. They would stifle each other if they stayed together. But there was one thing that they always had time to do together: play pokemon.

Even into their teens.

"Dude you're never going to beat my pokemon!" The sturdier, curly-haired boy slouched on the office chair with his feet up on the desk playing an old-fashioned game boy advance. He boasted, "I'm like thirty levels ahead of you."

"We'll see..." The smaller, skinnier boy rattled away at the keyboard on his laptop while almost simultaneously pressing buttons on his game boy advance SP. "This'll be worth it."

"EV training is boring! Just level up already..."

"I am levelling..."

"You're such a geek you know that?"

"Shaddap! You're a geek!"

There was a knock at the door, and a small, timid voice almost whispered from behind, "Peter, Henry, are you two doing your homework?"

"Yeah mam...!" Henry replied in an automatic tone, shifting his eyes between his laptop and his SP. Peter snickered while thumbing away at his handheld console.

"Good boys. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Sweeet..." Peter cheered.

"Fat ass..." Henry murmured.

"You're a fat ass!"

They were not perfect boys. They got into trouble, they got into fights. They didn't always do their homework on time. They even frequently squabbled with one another. But in spite of this they were inseparable. Although they had their own lives, they both knew that their brother came first.

That night was supposed to be like any other night. They brushed their teeth. They had a shower. They said goodnight to their mother and went to their bedrooms. They got under the bed covers... (and in Peter's case, carrying a handheld console), and went to sleep (in Peter's case, after a few level-ups).

---

Henry squinted his eyes in the sunlight. What a headache. He wiped his forehead with his hand... it was wet. The stench of body odour made him nauseous, and the dryness of his mouth made swallowing impossible. Water. Water, water, water! Need water!

Automatically he shot up out of bed and clutched his aching head. "Great..." he thought. "I hope this isn't flu."

Bleary-eyed he raised his head and had a look around. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was still clutching his head when he came to realise that... this was not his bedroom. In fact, this was almost certainly not even his house. It was also the first time he had ever seen a thatched roof from the inside. A faint scent of smoke drifted in from outside. The morning sun, low on the horizon, beamed in making the interior of the hut golden.

At this point Henry laughed. "Lucid dream! Hahaha... ow!" He squeezed his hand on his aching forehead. "I'd better wake up though... I feel really sick."

At this point Henry closed his eyes and concentrated. He tried shaking his head around a little, but all it did was exasperate his headache. He opened his eyes... still here. His breathing picked up in pace. He'd had lucid dreams before. He'd always been able to wake up from them. He'd also never felt any pain in them before.

"Oh shoot this is real!" He got up and although his headache was consuming his entire skull by this point, he was more interested in finding out where he was and how he had got there.

The floor was cool on his bare feet, but the sun coming in the hole in the hut that was supposed to be a window made him uncomfortably warm. It was at this point he noticed the chirping of insects as well as birds outside. The only time he ever heard insects at home was in the summer, and they were rare. The odd lone grasshopper maybe, but not the tropical chorus he was hearing now. It wasn't even supposed to be summer time now.

He didn't care that he was dressed in nothing but his boxer shorts. It was far more important to him that he found out where he was. The wooden door to the hut was unlocked and slightly ajar. It made a faint creaking sound as he opened it, revealing to him the outside world. Tropical palms and cycads dominated the scenery. The dry earth was warmer than the stone floors and covered in dry palm leaves.

"Hello?" came a female voice from his left. He turned around trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes so that he could see clearly who was there.

Two figures stood, waiting and watching cautiously. "Where am I?" Henry grumbled.

"You're at our home." One of them replied, the female, still not daring to take an inch further.

"Well, how did I get there? What... what's going on?" Henry noticed his headache again and rubbed his eyes.

"You tell us!" A deep voice grumbled from right next to Henry, causing him to jump in fright. Before he had much of a chance to turn his head to see who it was, he had a spear held to his throat. Out of reflex he backed away, only to have his back meet the wall of the hut.

"That's sharp..." Henry's voice pitched in fright. He didn't dare move forward. Holding the spear was a large bearded, long-haired man. His clothing was unusual, like something worn by an ancient warrior, decorated with turtle and clam shells. His face was crumpled and rough and his eyes told no lies. Henry knew that this man had used this spear before and he was used to using it on people.

"Speak!" The warrior's voice boomed like that of a lion.

Henry tried to speak but his voice was frozen. All he could muster were frightened squeaks.

"Lucas I think you're being just a tad extreme..." The female spoke again, this time she sounded nearer, but Henry did not dare move his head until this "Lucas" pulled the spear away.

When Henry had the chance to look around he realised he was surrounded by three people dressed in armour and armed up to the eyeballs. While he stood there, half-naked and looking down in embarrassment, realising he had just wet himself.

"Who are you?" the woman asked. She was holding some kind of firearm but to Henry's relief it was pointed at the ground.

"I'm Henry..." he cringed at how wussy his voice sounded at this point.

"And? So? What the hell were you doing trying to steal our pokemon last night?"

"Woah, wait what?!" Henry put his hands up submissively. "Listen there's been some kind of misunderstanding..."

"Why else would you break into our compound?" The woman's accompanying male interrogated, with his hand on his sword handle. Henry wanted to do anything to make sure that sword remained sheathed.

"I don't remember anything I swear!" He begged, "Please don't hurt me I'm telling the truth!"

The girl paused a moment and scowled at Henry suspiciously. She turned to Lucas and suggested, "You think we hit him over the head just a little too hard...?"

"No." Lucas grunted and replied honestly, "I don't think we hit him hard enough."

"I'll cooperate! Anything! Just please believe me I don't know what's going on!" Henry began to panic. His voice became wobbly.

"Fine you can begin by telling us who you are and where you're from." The woman instructed demandingly.

Henry nodded in agreement. Anything that would help keep him as far away from their worst side as possible, he was willing to do it. "I'm Henry... I'm from Canada.... well... not for long, I've lived around the states too..." He tried not to give away his fear in his voice but it was futile.

"Never heard of it" The woman's tone of voice was scornful. "You're lying." Her companions readied their weapons. "Give us one good reason why we shouldn't slay you now, theif."

"I... I... I swear I'm telling the truth! Last thing I remember IwenttobedandIwasathomeandthenIwakeuphereandOH GOD DON'T KILL ME!" Henry curled up onto a pathetic sobbing heap on the ground, holding his hands over his head. "Don't kill me..."

The armoured trio looked back and forth between one another, cringing in embarrassment. "This is saaad..." The sword-carrying male commented.

"Fine get up." The woman had had enough of Henry's grovelling.

Henry continued to sob.

"I said get up!"

Henry rose to his feet, hunched over, not daring to look at anyone in the eye or let anyone see the tears on his face. It seemed impossible for him to stop sobbing.

"Come with me..." The girl commanded.

Henry trudged on behind her cautiously, wary of the others who mocked and jeered from behind.

To Henry's disappointment she was not going to help him. She was not even going to free him. She gave him a change of clothes and let him wash in the stream under her strict supervision... under the aim of a gun, no less. An attempt to drink from the stream was met by a threat on his life - as if just being naked and wet with his own urine wasn't bad enough. The fresh clothes she had given him didn't exactly smell or look fresh at all. They were stained and smelled musky. Looking at the old yellow (once white?) shirt he had been given, he noticed a couple of muddy-red stains accompanied by holes. He hoped those were just juice stains or something, but he knew he was kidding himself.

After changing in full view of this woman (which was nowhere near as cool as he had imagined it might be) he approached her cautiously. She did not lower her gun, but simply motioned for him to move in front of her. "Walk. I'll direct you."

Henry spent much of the rest of that day caged. In the sun. Oh, and he had not yet been given any water. He had never experienced such thirst in his life. His stomach ached as it shivered and shook in fear. He just lay on the palm leaves inside his bamboo cage and shivered, despite how hot it was. Looking to his side was the guard. The most sympathetic character he had met so far had threatened to kill him twice. He didn't even want to think about asking this new guard about where this place was or who these people were. What were those crates for... what were they carrying? Why was everybody armed and so damn angry?

One more thing bothered him. He could have sworn they said that they thought he was going to steal their pokemon. No, he must have misheard.. Maybe they said 'firearms' and he just heard 'pokemon' for some strange reason? Why would anyone be so serious about useless electronic data? Were they trying to mess with his mind?

The sun's heat only got stronger as it rose higher in the sky. Henry's mild discomfort was turning into real pain. His skin was turning red and his headache was getting worse. Every so often he could hear strange noises and see strange colours. The dehydration was taking its toll, he assumed. It became unbearable, the headache, the thirst and not knowing what they would do with him next, or if they were just leaving him to die in this cage. He cried out and pleaded to the guard for some water... but there was no response. He started to care less and less about the prospect of being shot as his conscious awareness dwindled away along with his hope. Many thoughts ran through his mind... where these people pirates? Was last night the last time we was ever going to see his brothers and his mother? Was his name going to be splashed on the news?

"This is the one."

Henry had almost passed out by this point when a shadow was cast over him, bringing relief from the blazing heat. The voices were but an echo in his over-heated and delirious mind.

"He doesn't look like he's from around here..." A male voice... kind of soft.

"Well he doesn't claim to be either." Her... from earlier.

"What has he told you?"

"Nothing. But he's weak. He'll talk."

"He can't have found this place by himself."

"We searched the entire circumference of the island. There were no boats, no signs of one either..."

"Then he must have arrived by air."

"You think he's a spy?"

"You didn't find any equipment on him."

"That's true."

"But we can't rule out the possibility... it's just so strange though. He was naked. Literally."

"He could have been assisted by a pokemon."

Henry's eyes opened suddenly. He was in full shade of the trees. It suddenly seemed much cooler and darker. The sky was still light, but it had a pinkish tinge from the low angle of the sun. The songs from the birds and insects had changed into a slower, more rhythmic tune. Looking around he couldn't find the two individuals that had been having a conversation about him. He must have been dreaming that last part. Surely... though he didn't feel like he had really slept.

By this point the headache had levelled out to a constant. It didn't matter if he sat up or lay down, he wasn't going to be able to rest with it. Sitting up he looked around for the guard. It seemed nobody was watching him.

"Hi."

A tiny voice made Henry jolt. He looked around but couldn't find the source.

"Hello."

It was a child's voice... but from where?

"Up here, silly."

Henry looked up to see the silhouette of a small animal standing on the bars along the top of the cage. He couldn't make out exactly what it was, but it seemed like some kind of over-sized, long-nosed, tail-less shrew. Henry figured some kind of freaky tropical island animal he'd only heard of on the news. But where was the child?

"I've been watching you."

Henry yelped and fell back away from the animal. "Did that animal just....?"

"Hey, I'm not just an animal!" The creature's nose poked through the bars.

"Oh my gad!" Henry started to flail in his cage.

"Shhh! Don't be scared. I saw."

"This is a hallucination isn't it? I'm flipping out! I've lost it haven't I?"

"No... oh so sad! They really scared you didn't they?" The little creature scampered across the bars and hopped down onto the ground next to the cage.

"I saw you appear out of thin air. How did you do that?" The child-like voice asked, though Henry refused to believe it was coming from the animal.

"I don't know... I don't know what's going on." Henry couldn't believe he was talking to what he assumed to be the result of hallucination.

"Well, I just spoke with your captor. She's my trainer!"

"Trainer?"

"Uh-huh. She takes care of me and makes me stronger. She's actually really nice when you get to know her."

Henry looked round at the animal. It was standing on its hind legs this time. "I told her about what I saw. I really don't think you meant to come here. We pokemon can sense those kinds of things. I know you're telling the truth."

"P-pokemon?!" Henry stammered, before mumbling something incoherent.

"Uh... yeah? You never seen a pokemon talk before?"

Henry's body began to tingle. He could feel himself becoming weak, unable to hold himself steadily upright. A sudden exhaustion and nausea overcame his body, and the only thing that came easy for him was to close his eyes and drift off...



---



Why he was surprised to wake up in his own bed he didn't know. Henry only knew that there was something very much not right about that dream. He felt horrendous. Slipping out of his bed he put his feet on his own bedroom carpet. His legs felt like jelly. The moment he let go of the support of his bed his legs collapsed and he fell onto his floor. His head still pounded and his throat was still dry.

After getting up he trudged through to the kitchen. He rubbed his forehead, noticing a huge lump had formed just above his hair line. He remembered how strange dreams can occur when one is dehydrated, or sick, or if they've had a concussion. He reasoned with himself that it was the most likely explanation. A bash to the head during the night, perhaps... though his bedroom walls were not really that hard and he didn't have a head-stand to accidentally bash his head on.

Instead of going for the cereal cupboard, his first stop was the medicine cupboard. He had hardly noticed his own mother and brother already in the kitchen eating.

"Henry you look like crap." Peter commented between mouthfuls of cheerios.

"Oh he's right, honey are you okay?" His mother added.

Henry could only manage a grumble before he gulped down some pills in a glass of water with a shaky hand.

"Henry how many did you take there?"

"Two..." Henry could only manage a whisper.

"Good boy. I think we need to make a doctor's appointment for you." There was a moment of silence before she continued, "Henry... have you been using a sun-bed? Do be honest dear, I will find out."

"No mam." Henry downed another glass of water and filled it up again under the faucet.

"Henry...." her voice became more scornful.

"I said no, mam." Henry's raised voice was muffled by the glass he was drinking from.

"Hahaha you look like a frickin' lobster, dude!"

Henry looked down at his hands. One of them was a bit pink, but the other was quite definitely sun-burnt. On top of that his whole body ached and stung.

"Looks like you had a worse night than I had dude." Peter stuffed his face before spurting out his next sentence (along with half-chewed soggy cheerios), "Seriously the dream I had last night was epic. I can remember every little detail!"

"Peter don't talk with your mouth full" said his mother.

"I don't think mine was a dream, dude..." Henry whispered to himself, out of earshot of his mother and brother.
 
Let's post another chapter, hm...?

....


Children Playing Pokemon Chapter 2


Peter seemed to have a certain cheer about him that day right up until he got home. Nobody could really put their finger on it. His mother joked it was maybe the cheerios. But Peter knew it was something more. He'd had an awesome night, and an awesome dream. But a boring day. School had been a little tiresome and his friends had been skipping classes, so he came home looking forward to unwinding to a game of pokemon with his little brother and maybe hang out with their older brother if he was home.

"Dude, I got my team all set up, what are yours at...?" Peter barged in carrying his backpack. He knew his brother had taken the day off so had perhaps caught up with the training.

"What are you doing?"

Peter was shocked to find Henry quietly writing into a note pad while looking to the open textbook in front of him.

"Eww..." Peter winced. "Homework? Dude. Pokemon."

"Grow up, Peter." Henry murmured, hardly taking his attention off his work.

"Dude?"

"Will you stop saying 'dude'? Listen I have to get this done before tomorrow or I'm gonna fail..."

Peter stood at Henry's bedroom door struck with horror. "Dude... seriously, no brother of mine is going to be a nerd."

"Piss off, Peter." Despite his language, Henry seemed calm in his concentration on his work, and continued to scribble away.

There was a moment of silence. Peter's face turned red with fury before he slammed the door shut and stormed down the hallway, audible for quite a distance.

The headache had subsided somewhat. That night Henry closed his eyes looking forward to a quiet night of sleep. Forget about Peter, forget about that awful dream, forget about pokemon just this once. Maybe playing too much pokemon causes these bad dreams, he reasoned.



----



Henry felt himself awaken rather unexpectedly. He hardly felt like he had slept at all. He checked the coarseness of his bed quilt. This was unusual. It was very coarse. And itchy. He could smell something... like fruit. Or plants. The air was very thick, even humid. What was that noise? Crickets. No... it couldn't be. No no no...

"No no! No!" Henry flailed, kicking the covers off himself. A wet cloth fell down from his forehead as he sat up. A thatched roof. Wooden walls.

"You're feeling better?" The child-like voice queried.

"GYAAAAAAH!" Henry yelped and jumped into the air. He staggered back into the wall and pressed his back up against it.

"This is just a dream, this is just a dream, this is just a dream..." Henry repeated to himself over and over, not daring to open his eyes.

"Mister? This is real..." The creature's voice was cut off by Henry's chanting getting louder and louder. Henry covered his ears and refused to listen or look.

"Honestly I know not many pokemon speak but it's not that big a deal." A woman's voice brought reason to the situation.

Henry stopped chanting and kept his hands clutched to his ears and his eyes shut.

"And I'm sorry that I misjudged you. I don't trust strangers but I trust my cyndaquil. I was too quick to judge." The woman tried to be apologetic in her tone.

Henry opened one eye and hissed through gritted teeth, "This... isn't... real..."

"You are a strange one aren't you?" She cocked her head and folded her arms. "Why don't you think this is real? Talk to me, we can figure something out."

Henry lowered his hands down from his ears, exasperated. He let out a heavy, defeated sigh and averted his gaze to the ground. What could be the harm in talking to a dream character? If she was even just a dream..."Pokemon... they're imaginary. They're not real."

"Oh..." The cyndaquil put her paws up to her mouth. "That hurts."

"Yeah, you better watch your mouth" the woman warned.

"Um... actually maybe he didn't mean it that way. What did you mean?" Cyndaquil asked.

"I mean that in my world..." Henry stopped himself. His world? He was starting to sound like a lunatic. "We don't actually have pokemon. I mean literally, there are no such things as pokemon where I'm from. Well at least not for real."

"Not for real?" The two girls said in unison.

"Pokemon are... fictional. Yeah, that sounds about right. Like they only exist in stories, video games, cartoons, things like that. But never in real life."

The woman scowled and glanced at her cyndaquil. "Cindy, is he telling the truth?"

"He smells sincere to me." Cindy replied, looking back at her trainer.

Henry sighed. That was just the start of it. How could he tell them that they are just a figment of his imagination? That right now he is asleep, and the moment he wakes up, he'll go on to lead his real life? And they will cease to exist? Or would they? Then he wondered, why on earth was he feeling sympathy for dream characters? Or how was his dream state passing through to reality? Sun-burns, injuries...

"Tell me... what do you have? If you don't have pokemon?"

Henry stopped to think. "Cats... dogs... you know. Animals."

The woman sighed, "Yeah! But what do you have besides that?"

Henry blinked, not sure what else to say.

"Clarissa, tell him about what we're doing here!" Cindy piped up with excitement.

"Cindy?" Clarissa frowned.

"Clarissa?" Henry interrupted.

"What?"

Henry just smiled. "Now I know your name." He wasn't sure why he smiled. He was still feeling awful.

"Oh but please trust me. I like this boy. I think he should know." Cindy begged.

Clarissa was silent for a moment. She eyed Henry up for a moment. "What's your name, boy?" Clarissa demanded.

"It's Henry."

"Oh, what an unusual name!" Cindy squeaked.

"Well... fine. Okay. But you must make an oath, Henry." Clarissa warned.

"What kind of oath?"

"You must promise that you will never EVER ally or cooperate with our enemies. And if you break that oath I will personally be the one to hunt you down and gut you alive. Do I make myself clear?"

Henry gulped. "Very, very clear." Nothing to fear, right? Just a dream... right?

"SAY IT!" She barked.

"I promise I won't cooperate or make alliances with your enemies lest you hunt me down and gut me alive." Henry rattled off, hoping he had included everything he should have in his promise.

Clarissa gave a satisfied smile.

"Oh, Clarissa, may I please tell him?" Cindy begged again.

"Knock yourself out."

"Yay!"

Henry could swear this Cindy the cyndaquil didn't just sound like a child. She was a child.

Cindy cleared her squeaky little throat before taking a deep breath. "We are the Pokemon Alliance. We are an alliance of pokemon and non-pokemon, humans and hyvans alike who fight for the same justice. Pokemon are not tools of war - we fight only by our own will. Hyvans are not the enemy, neither are the humans. We fight for the equal treatment and equal opportunities of all pokemon, humans and hyvans around the world." Cindy stopped for a moment and became squeaky, "It's just so sad that we have so many enemies."

Clarissa nodded, "Okay, good girl Cindy... (that last part was unnecessary)"

"I know it just makes me so sad." Cindy squeaked.

Henry raised his hand, "Um... I have a question."

"Yes?" Both girls asked.

"What's a hyvan?"

"You don't have hyvans either in your world?" Clarissa asked, surprised.

Henry shook his head.

"Man... they must have died out or something." Clarissa rubbed her head, seemingly sullen at the thought of a world with no hyvans. "Hyvans... they're like humans. Except they're born with types, attacks, natures and abilities. Just like pokemon."

"You mean like the X-Men?" Henry suggested.

"X-what?" The girls both asked.

"Never mind... maybe not." Henry waved the thought away.

"I'm a hyvan... on my mother's side." Clarissa clarified. "My father was a human but I never knew him."

"So... that means you're part pokemon?" Henry scratched his head.

"No, no! That's wrong! I hate when people say that!"

"Sorry, please, no offence! I didn't mean it like that..." Henry grovelled.

"We are human-like beings with abilities, types, natures and attacks! Nothing else!" Clarissa did not want to leave any room for error. "Problem with that is... although we used to live in harmony with humans hundreds of years ago, the human leaders have grown to fear us."

"You see... hundreds of years ago, humans and hyvans lived together in relative harmony. Yeah sure there has always been wars. But we did have times of peace together. Even times when hyvens and humans lived together as one single race. There was once a civilisation that consisted entirely of a race of a mixture of human and hyvan blood. But they were wiped out just over two hundred years ago."

"Now there aren't many humans on our side. Not many will fight for us. That's the problem with humans. They don't like to be unpopular. They know that if they fight for us they will be considered the enemy amongst their own kind."

"It's all because those in power here like to control. Humans are creatures of the flock, and that makes them easy to control. For the one who hungers for power the easiest slaves to control are the weaker slaves. Hyvans however are all too often too strong. Either in the mind or in the body. You know what it takes to bring down a level thirty or more hyvan? Don't even bother trying to use a handgun. It's a waste of bullets."

"They see us as a threat, and they scare their human flocks into submitting to their ideals of a hyvan-free world."

With that, Clarissa became quiet and stared at the blank wall in front of her. Henry wasn't sure what to say. He suddenly came to understand the magnitude of Clarissa's distrust for him when he first met her. He was surprised that he could sympathise with her - normally his imagination could not stretch that far.

"Hyvan... human... they're the same." Cindy broke the silence.

Clarissa smiled and responded. "That's true. Too many hyvans forget that. There's a lot of hate. We shouldn't forget that not all humans are so bad."

"Then... you're not mad at me any more?" Henry asked hopefully.

"I still don't completely trust you." Clarissa assured. "But... Cindy trusts you. That's good enough for me. That and you're such a wuss. If you had been trained to break in here, steal our pokemon or spy on us you would have undergone some kind of mental training. And you wouldn't have looked as if you'd only just got out of bed either. What's up with that? Why were you only wearing a pair of shorts?"

Henry could only shrug his shoulders. The questions bothered him as much as they bothered Clarissa, perhaps more so.

"Well..." Cindy began.

"What's up Cindy?"

"I got confused when you asked what a hyvan is. I could smell that you really didn't know. You weren't lying." Cindy was looking at Henry. "So you've really never heard of one before."

"We don't have hyvans where I'm from." Henry told Cindy again.

"But you are a hyvan."

"Cindy!" Clarissa called to her pokemon scornfully, "Are you trying to confuse him?"

"Why would I Clarissa? I'm not cruel." Cindy turned back to Henry, "I don't know how but I can't smell any human from you at all. So you can only be hyvan."

"You sure he just doesn't smell funny?" Clarissa backed away from Henry, curling her nose.

"You smelled really sick a bit earlier, so it was hard to tell. But now you smell better I can tell." Cindy continued to address to Henry.

Henry just sat silently glancing back and forth between Cindy and Clarissa. His face was blank due to how clueless he was.

"Don't worry Henry it doesn't mean anything." Cindy tried to assure to him.

"Yeah it won't make any difference. You never knew all this time so it can't be that noticeable. Just don't tell any humans you don't trust and you'll be fine." Clarissa stopped to think for a moment. "We have work to do it's about time we got moving."

"Yep. This whole island is a checkpoint where we store supplies and give them out to our allies." Cindy seemed to take great joy in keeping her new friend informed.

"Come with me, I'll take you to Neil and he will tell you what to do next." Clarissa got up off the floor and dusted herself off.

"Neil?"

"He's in charge of keeping all operations running smoothly on the island. He knows about you so don't worry too much."

"Don't worry?" Henry hadn't been worried to begin with - why was she telling him not to worry?

"He can be a little bit testing at times... but he just likes to be thorough. He might not trust you right away." Clarissa stopped a moment before leaving the hut. "Oh, and... Henry was it?"

"Yeah...?"

"I told him a little tale about how you got here. I told him we found you washed up on the beach. Everyone else understands. Neil just isn't quite as understanding. He won't accept that you just appeared out of nowhere - not even with Cindy as a witness."

"But I saw it all happen!" Cindy testified.

"I know Cindy but it just doesn't sound believable." Clarissa turned to Henry for a moment. "I can hardly believe it. But it doesn't add up that you could be anything but lost and clueless, so I give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Thanks." Henry nodded his head.

That morning the trio left the small hut and made their way down the path towards one of the larger huts. There wasn't a lot of activity. An old man swept a doorstep and cheerily greeted Clarissa and Cindy as they passed. Heavy machinery lay dormant and unmanned for now. The sun was still low on the horizon but it was already getting hot. Henry took in the atmosphere. It was almost alien to him. Everywhere he had lived or visited in his life the climate had been no warmer than temperate.

They made their way into a large clearing. It was covered in tyre tracks from fork-lifts and trucks. Their destination was a building that appeared larger and more permanent than the one Henry had been recovering in, supported by sturdy wooden beams that were probably once tree trunks. The structure reminded Henry of a medieval fort.

Clarissa entered a wooden doorway and motioned for Henry to follow. Henry felt something tugging at his (borrowed) clothes and moving its way up, before resting itself on his shoulder.

“I’ll keep you company.” Cindy spoke into his ear.

Henry began to feel nervous making his way up the wooden steps. It did help to have a pokemon on his side, but the armed guards sizing him up still set him off-edge. Henry stopped behind Clarissa as she knocked on a door. There was a voice from behind the door prompting her to open it. Inside sat a muscular, bearded man wearing a headband behind a large wooden desk. The desk was covered with paperwork. On a chair in front of the desk sat a balding clean-shaven man, cross-legged, wearing a grey suit and tie.

“Excuse me...” Clarissa nodded to the man in the suit before turning to the man behind the desk. “Sir, this is the one you wanted me to bring to you.” Clarissa moved out of the way so that Henry couldn't hide behind her.

Neil squinted his eyes and rubbed his goatee. “Skinny little runt isn’t he?”

“I hope I have not intruded upon anything...” The man in the suit said uncomfortably.

“No, you haven't. The only intruder is standing right in front of us."

Clarissa cringed. That wasn't the good start she had been hoping for.

Neil put his hands on his desk and got up off his seat. He strolled towards Henry who was visibly shaking. “Where you from, kid?”

Before Henry could speak, Clarissa butted in, “He doesn't remember.”

Henry’s eyes widened in horror. Even he thought Clarissa was being irresponsible. Looking back at Neil he awaited a response, not daring to say anything should it conflict with Clarissa’s story.

“Is that correct?” Neil crossed his arms and looked Henry up and down as if he was able to read his very thoughts at a glance. The calm, confident yet somehow threatening smile didn't help with Henry’s nerves.

“I...” Henry glanced at Clarissa who was shaking her head subtly. “I’m not sure I remember.”

“We do know though that he’s a hyvan, he’s not an enemy.” Clarissa tried to lighten the load off Henry.

“Is that so? What’s your level, type...”

“... he doesn't know.” Clarissa cut Neil off.

“You know what Clarissa, you’re starting to piss me off. Go. Get. Shoo.” Neil waved his large, muscular hand in dismissal.

Clarissa gasped before bowing her head to her superior. “Yes, sir!” She hurried out the door, followed by Cindy who squeaked worriedly. At the exit she took one last look before making her way down stairs to follow her trainer.

“You'll have to excuse us, Arnold. My apologies.” Neil turned to the man in the suit.

“No worries, Mr. Ingus. I must be on my way.” Arnold fixed his suit jacket before bowing his head respectfully to Neill. He marched out the door, closing it behind him.

Sweat gleamed on Henry’s face. It was at this point he was certain that this was no dream. Crazy stuff happened in dreams, like your pet cat turning into a pink cake or something. Scary stuff would be getting chased by a werewolf or being chased by a homicidal computer with legs. Weird stuff that just wouldn't happen in real life. No. This felt just too real. These people... there was something off about them that made them just a notch less than real. But they were still too real for his liking. This particular threat felt too real.

“I assure you Clarissa will be disciplined in due time.” Neil casually walked towards Henry with his hands clasped behind his back. “How dare she lie to me. She must think I’m a fool. But you have a chance to redeem yourself."

Henry nodded his head in agreement, though it was jerky out of fear.

“You never really washed up on the beach, did you?”

Henry shook his head in much the same manner as he had nodded before.

“There, now, some honesty. We’re getting off to a good start.”

Henry didn't feel any better.

“And... you haven’t really forgotten where you’re from, have you?”

If honesty was going to keep him on this man’s good side, Henry was going to stick to it. He shook his head again to confirm that he hadn't really forgotten.

“Where?”

“I’m from Canada...” He was about to say more before he was cut off.

“Where the hell is that?”

Henry blinked in surprise. When Clarissa had said she had never heard of it, he thought she was messing with him. “It’s in North America...?”

Neil stopped a moment to think and then nodded his head. “I've heard of it. Part of the barren world. You’re bullshitting me.”

“Barren?” Henry asked, confused. He could feel his knees becoming weak. Even the truth wasn't good enough.

Neil gave a mighty roar, "DON'T PLAY STUPID WITH ME!" As he fell silent again he approached Henry until his face was close. His eyes bulged with rage and his teeth snarled.

By this point Henry's shaking had become uncontrollable. He was so consumed with fear that he was no longer able to tell not care that his eyes were streaming with tears. He just stared at Neil frozen aside from his shaking and sniffling. Neil appeared like he had more to say, but seeing Henry's terror his anger started to simmer down and he slowly backed away from Henry again.

Neil turned around and paced slowly in his office deep in thought before stopping suddenly. He turned back around to Henry to reveal that he was grinning.

"Henry, was it..."

Henry remained pressed against the wall. It was hard to tell that he was nodding due to how badly he was shaking.

"There's one way to test your honesty. If you are really a hyvan..."

Henry didn't want to dig a deeper hole for himself, but he was also too afraid to say that he had only been told he was hyvan, and that he knew deep down that he was not. After all, there were no hyvans in his reality.

Neil grabbed a set of keys from his desk and made his way to the office door to open it. He motioned with his head for Henry to follow. Henry stopped to think for a moment before following Neil out of the door. Neil locked up and made his way downstairs to the clearing outside with Henry a few paces behind.

Outside in the dusty clearing Neil made sure that he was a considerable distance from any buildings or objects. Henry didn't expect him to stop walking and looked in confusion when he did. Henry thought perhaps Neil was going to get something like a lie detector machine.

Neil shifted his feet until he had established a broad, sturdy base. He lifted his hands an preparation for combat, one further ahead than the other.

"Fight me" Neil commanded.

Henry shook his head and backed away a few steps. He could feel his heart rate pick up. This guy could clearly rip him to pieces. He must have been at least three times Henry's weight and mostly muscle. Henry had never experienced a fight since that one time...

"No, nonono way I can't!" Henry walked backwards quickly and was about ready to flee for his life.

"If you're a true hyvan you can!"

Neil shot forward faster than Henry could notice, kicking up dust behind him. Henry could feel a surge of energy in his limbs from the sheer fright and sudden reflex response to the charging body of muscle heading towards him. Everything went blank for a moment.

As the dust cleared, Neil stood with his arm outstretched, fingertips piercing into what should have been Henry's throat. But Henry was not there. He was nowhere to be seen. Neil turned his head upwards in the direction of a pathetic whimper. Up past the top of his office, up past the roof. There, a heap clung to the top of a flag pole, crying weakly.

Looking up to see Henry struggling to cling on to the flagpole, clueless as to how he got up there, Neil couldn't contain himself. Henry could hear Neil's gruff voice break out into a long, loud, hearty laughter. From Henry's perspective, it seemed to last forever as he struggled not to fall to his death.


---


"Well, that explains everything."

The noise had picked up somewhat. Engines rumbled, drowning out the natural sounds. Neil had Clarissa, Cindy and Henry lined up in front of him. Clarissa scratched her cheek in deep thought.

"Teleport is a rare attack in hyvans." Cindy explained to Henry, who still seemed visibly shaken. "Most hyvans only have fighting-type, normal-type or ground-type attacks."

"We still don't know where you came from." Neil looked at Henry, still distrusting him. "Or why you came here. But we at least know how you came here."

"Sir..." Clarissa asked.

"I don't want to hear another word from you, Clarissa. I only brought you here to inform you that I am stripping you of your rank." Neil's voice was emotionless and straight to the point.

"Sir, I..." Clarissa stopped before she angered him further and sighed. "Yes, sir."

"And you, Cindy."

"Me?" Cindy replied wondering what she had done wrong.

"Both of you. I would not have expected this of either of you but you have both disappointed me. Your carelessness could have exposed us." Neil paused for a moment to think. "I have nothing more to say to you two. You are both excused."

Clarissa and Cindy both glanced at one another before glancing to Henry. Henry was staring at the ground. He looked pale and deep in his own thoughts. Neil stared Clarissa and Cindy down until they were pressured into leaving.

"Henry..." Neil's voice was unusually soft and calm. Henry raised his head up but couldn't maintain eye contact with Neil for more than a split second.

"Who are you?" Neil asked.

Henry didn't know what to say. Would Neil accept the truth?

"No more nonsense. Who are you? Where are you from?" Neil's voice remained calm and oddly quiet.

"I-if I told you..." Henry began before gulping, "I don't think you would believe me."

"Try me."

Henry thought hard about how he was going to word this. "This seems to be my dream world." He began before being interrupted.

"Dream world, wait, what is that supposed to mean?" Neil sounded slightly more irritated. "Just be straight forward, I don't want any cryptic nonsense."

"I really mean it... I went to sleep one night and woke up here. I went to sleep here and woke up at home. Then the same thing happened again last time I went to sleep at home. I haven't woken up yet. This... everything, you, Clarissa, everyone are part of my imagination."

Neil scratched his facial hair and bent down so that he was eye-level with Henry. "Do you really believe that?"

Henry shook his head and quietly mumbled, "I don't know."

"I don't think you do believe it."

Henry squatted down to the ground and covered his head out of frustration.

"Oh stop that now. Get up."

"I'm telling the truth." Henry mumbled.

"Just get up."

Henry rose to his feet weakly.

"Clarissa!" Neil called, knowing that she was standing a couple of feet away listening in. "Take him for a rest."

Clarissa nodded her head and waved her hand for Henry to follow her.

"You're going to need it, kid."
 
Pew pew! I fire another chapter atchoo! Pew pew!




Children Playing Pokemon Chapter 3


The kitchen was quiet that morning. Henry snuck in, once again Peter and his mother were already eating. Deep in thought, Henry almost over-spilled the milk as he was pouring it into his cereal. Henry took a glance at everyone as he sat down at the table. Peter took a spoonful of his cereal and dropped it back into the bowl, causing milk to splatter onto the table.

"Peter, eat your food properly, dear." His mother asked.

Peter began to eat quickly for a few seconds before winding down into a thought-filled halt. It was not like him to neglect his food. He caught eyes with Henry who also seemed somewhat distant. It was a while before he realised Peter was staring at him. They each exchanged glances and facial expressions as though they were exchanging thoughts. They began to realise something wasn't right about the other. What was wrong with the other... could it be the same thing?

"Henry, Peter, what's wrong with you two this morning? Are you both feeling okay? Should I make a doctor's appointment for you too, Peter?"

Peter just shook his head, staring at Henry. He subtly tilted his head to gesture to Henry that they go speak in private. Henry put his spoon in his bowl.

"I'm not hungry..." He got up and left his seat.

"Neither am I..." Peter followed.

"Wait you two aren't you going to clean up?" Their mother called. "Humph. I suppose I'll have to clean up this mess..."

They met up in Henry's bedroom and closed the door behind them. Henry leaned back against his radiator for warmth, feeling somewhat chilled from the contrast from being in a tropical climate to suddenly being in close to winter temperatures.

"Dude..." Peter spoke, not knowing what else to say.

"Indeed." Henry could only agree with Peter's lack of words.

"Are we even thinking about the same thing, dude?" Peter kicked back on Henry's bed and folded his arms underneath his head.

"I don't know." Henry replied blankly.

"Have you been dreaming weird lately?" Peter came out with it at last.

"I..." Henry hesitated, not wanting to sound crazy. "They don't feel like dreams."

"They're not, I know it! There's no way that was just a dream!" Peter raised his voice in excitement.

"What did you dream?"

Peter paused a moment and smiled a little. "You can't laugh."

Henry didn't say anything.

"It was about... pokemon" Despite asking Henry not to laugh, Peter himself started to snicker and snort.

Henry silently sat in thought.

"It felt so real though. I got given this pokemon by Professor Oak... A squirtle, can you believe that?"

"Blastoise always was your favourite." Henry pointed out, feeling there was some kind of significance in it. "The only pokemon I saw was a cyndaquil."

"And Typhlosion was your favourite." Peter had a think about it. "Wait... that must mean... we both saw our favourite pokemon! But un-evolved!"

"Well done..." Henry sarcastically congratulated Peter for pointing out the obvious.

"Did you dream about the same thing two nights in a row too?"

"Yeah and the second followed on from the first."

Peter bounced off of the bed and onto the floor. Excitedly he clutched his fist. "This is so many shades of awesome!"

Henry couldn't agree, but he didn't want to get into the details of his ordeal.

"I think it must be an alternate reality." Peter speculated.

"Let's not be so hasty."

"I'm going to sleep early tonight specially for this... I'll catch legendaries, you wait and see!"

Peter thundered out of Henry's room in excitement, completely oblivious to the fact that Henry was less than pleased.


---



"Make sure that you count every bracket, if you leave any out then the program won't compile..." The teacher rattled on to the class about the work.

Henry was behind and visibly flustered. He scratched his blond, pointy hair causing little flakes to fall onto his keyboard. He had long lost interest in the lecturing of the teacher. A long-haired brunette leaned over intrusively in front of his computer.

"It's because you haven't even declared the variables," she pointed to the screen, "You need to put them here before the statements."

Henry was about to bark about her getting in his way, but realised that his frustration was getting the better of him and allowed his classmate to help him. "So, how do I do that?"

"Here, like this..." She leaned over further and corrected the mistake. She then hit the compile button.

"Compiled successfully!" She cheered. "You had most of it right."

"Until I test it that is..." Henry moaned.

"Oh what's wrong with you today? So pessimistic. Maybe you should have stayed off 'sick'." The girl winked and nudged him with her elbow playfully.

"Sorry, Gemma... think I just need a break."

"Well....." She rolled her eyes slowly in thought, "It is the weekend."

"Yeah... I guess."

"My sister wanted to invite you to her birthday party, but you look like you need the rest."

"No!" Henry snapped.

Gemma stared in shock... along with a couple of other students in the near vicinity.

"I mean... sorry... Um. Bad dreams lately. I want to avoid resting."

"Oh, I used to get that when I was four. My mum called them night terrors...? I never wanted to go to bed." Gemma laughed half-heartedly.

"Yeah, I'll take up your sister's invitation." Henry smiled.

Gemma smiled back. "It'll be a blast! Be there after school, try not to be later than 6, that's when the cake is coming out. Mum has it all worked out! Don't expect any drinking though, mum's strict about that."

Henry just nodded. Any excuse to stay up.



---



Henry wasn't back as late as he hoped he would be. Wasn't much of a party either. Nevertheless, it was still dark in the house. He snuck past Peter's bedroom door. The rhythmic rumbling of snoring could be faintly heard. He went back to his room and opened his laptop. As well as that he took out a small packet from his pocket.

"Caffect..." He murmured. The packet made a rattling sound as he turned it to read the label. "Take no more than two within any 4 hour period..."

He opened the cap and emptied two tablets onto his desk. He grabbed a half-empty bottle of orange fizz and downed the pills with the drink.

Letting out a gasp he decided to get to work by distracting himself with his computer studies.



---



"Squirtle, use your water gun attack!"

The bouncy little blue bipedal turtle let out a powerful stream of water from its beak-like mouth. It sent the feathered opponent flying into a tree trunk. The soaked bird fluttered as it fell to the ground and struggled to get itself back onto its feet.

"Good work Squirtle, here's our chance!"

Peter reached into his pocket and brought out a shiny red and white ball. Standing behind him his shelled companion stared confidently at the flailing bird. Peter threw the ball at the bird. Upon impact it opened up with a flash and sucked the bird inside into an impossibly compressed space. The bird's shape became stretched as it spun into the swirling vortex that descended into the mouth of the contraption.

There was silence, even the wildlife stopped making any sound for a moment. The ball shook and bounced as the creature fought inside for its freedom. But it was to no avail. The bouncing slowed and eventually ceased.

"Alright! Excellent work little dude! We train this pidgey up into a pigeot and we'll have something to fly on!"

"Squirtaaal!" The squirtle cheered enthusiastically, raising its stubbly little webbed hands in victory.

Then Peter stopped and had a think. "Or..." He reached out for another pokeball while picking up his newly caught pidgey, "should we train up the spearow so it becomes a fearow? Decisions, decisions..."

Squirtle mimicked the intensity on Peter's face as they tried to decide which was better. At that moment, Squirtle's face became horror-struck. His beak quivered as he pointed at the source of his fear.

"What's wrong little dude?" Peter looked around first at Squirtle, and then and where Squirtle was pointing.

From the woods emerged a figure walking slowly forwards. Seeing someone dressed in the world of pokemon greatly confused Peter. And wielding a sword? Weren't pokemon the primary weapons in this world, he thought? Peter assumed a defensive stance, ready to send out one of his captured pokemon if need be. Surely, though, this weirdo was just dressing up for kicks. His eyes were not visible under the shadow of his long, jet black hair that draped over his face and shoulders, contrasting to the bright and sunny atmosphere.

A few feet away from Peter the man stopped walking. No part of his body moved except for his lips.

"Release the captive pokemon. Now."

Peter nervously laughed. "Hahaha... you have gotta be kidding me! Get your own!"

There was a moment where neither party moved or made a sound.

"Release them, human. This is your final warning."

Peter was no longer laughing. He gritted his teeth angrily. Who did this guy think he was? Release them 'human'? Peter mumbled under his breath, "What a frickin' weirdo..."

In a flash the sword carrier sped into a sprint before seemingly disappearing into thin air. Peter jumped and looked around frantically. There was another flash of light and out of nowhere there appeared to be several of the same man, mid-jump, all bringing down their swords upon Peter in unison. Peter closed his eyes tight instinctively and raised his arms above his head. The sound of metal slicing through hard material made Peter wince.. but he felt no pain.

He opened his eyes to see the tip of the sword facing straight at him. The man charged forward, sword held horizontally as Peter stumbled backwards until he was backed into a corner of closely packed plants. The metal blade gleamed in the sun breaking through the trees, revealing streaks of red along its length. Peter's eyes bulged at the sight. His sweat dripped from his chin onto the tip of the sword due to his nervous shaking.

"Release them."

There was no argument. Peter dove into his pockets, taking out ball after ball and letting them roll onto the ground As they did so they popped open, releasing fluttering and scurrying forms that made a break for their freedom without daring to look back.

As the last one made it a safe distance away, the sward was withdrawn from Peter's face and carefully placed back into its sheath, but the wielder didn't dare take his hand off it. He walked backwards, keeping his facing towards Peter until he was a safe distance. He then turned around and looked at the ground. When Peter looked to see what it was, he realised the worst.

"Foolish creature..." The man scorned, "you defend this filthy human but not your own brethren."

Peter made a hasty dash for his fallen pokemon. By this point the man was calmly on his way, walking into the woods. Peter knelt down to Squirtle's side. Squirtle lay on his back unable to move. His breathing sounded like the sound of a deflating tyre. Blood oozed out of the clean slice in his front shell, pooling on the dirt to either side of the tiny turtle. The shell part was almost cut into two.

"Squirtle!" Peter cried out agonizingly. "N... noooo!" Peter's voice gurned with horror. "What.. what do I..." Peter flailed in panic, looking around, trying not to hyperventilate. He burped, trying not to vomit. It didn't help that he had an excessive fear of blood.

Peter slipped his hands under the back of the shell and carefully cradled his last pokemon. The squirtle squeaked and made painful croaking sounds due to being picked up, but Peter had to ignore them. For his pokemon's sake he had to get back to the pokemon centre...



---


Breakfast that morning started out even quieter than the last one.

Henry shovelled cereal into his mouth lazily. Dark rings encircled his half-open eyes, self-deprived of any sleep. He chewed as if on autopilot. He also seemed entirely oblivious to his brother and his mother. Peter's leg shook furiously under the table. Worried eyes stared at the cereal, but didn't seem to even acknowledge that they were there. His eyes were wide and filled with fear.

"Okay, I want to know exactly WHAT is going in?!" Their mother yelled angrily. Peter snapped to attention, but his expression didn't change. Henry slowly turned his head, chewing like a cow with cud in its mouth and milk dribbling down his chin.

"What is WRONG with you two lately?! What... what's this, Henry?" She began to scream, pointing to his eyes. "And what's wrong with you, Peter, you look like you already know you're in trouble! Come on! SPILL IT!!"

There was no response from either of the boys.

"Oh... no..." She put her hand up to her face and shook her head... "I know what's going on, you've been taking drugs haven't you...HOW COULD YOU PETER!? You're supposed to be the responsible one... NOT getting your little brother involved in drugs!"

"Mam chill out..." Henry tried to diffuse her anger.

"Don't you give me any of your drug-slang-talk" she began to fumble with her words in her hysterics. "I'll find it. I'll find exactly what you've been doing..." with that she stormed through to one of the bedrooms to start searching for evidence.

Henry could no longer finish his breakfast. He threw the spoon into the bowl, splashing milk over the table. "Did you have another one last night?" He asked Peter.

Peter bit his fingernails as he nodded. "It was horrible, Henry... my Squirtle... Squirtle... he almost killed my Squirtle..." Peter pulled on his own curls.

Never before had Peter allowed himself to appear so distressed in front of Henry. If he didn't know his brother any better, Henry might think Peter was about to burst into tears any moment. Henry got up out of his seat. "These nightmares have GOT to stop!" Henry stormed through to go try to reason with his mother.

Peter was left alone in the kitchen, unable to tear away from the thoughts of his Squirtle.

Their mother seemed to spend much of the day searching for some kind of evidence. All the while they were commanded not to leave the house for any reason. Although Peter was eighteen he was not quite as rebellious (nor as sharp-witted) as many of the boys that he was usually influenced by, and was reluctant to leave even though he protested being locked in. It was Henry who eventually convinced his mother that there were no drugs involved. However, he would need to explain what had been bothering them, and that could scare her just as much. Not that she would believe him, but that she would fear for their sanity.

Henry's phone jangled as he was about to try to explain things to his mother. He picked up his phone and glanced at his mother, knowing he would need her permission. She rubbed her tensed eyebrows and nodded. Henry pressed the call button, killing the jangle.

"Hello...?" He asked, not recognising the number.

"Hi, Henry..." The voice was female.

"... Who is this?"

"It's Gemma..."

"Oh, hi, Gemma. How's it going?" Henry tried to sound cheerful, but he could only manage mildly depressed. It didn't even occur to him that he didn't remember ever giving her his number.

There was a moment of silence before Gemma replied, "Can we meet up?"

"Gemma, I'd like to, but just now..." Henry tried to consider that whatever Gemma was calling for, she sounded upset. "... what's it about?"

"You're going to find it silly..."



There was nowhere warm enough outdoors for them to meet. Gemma suggested that they simply meet in the stairway to his apartment. Henry was surprised that she would come all this way for a chat in the stair. When she arrived, she invited her in.

"Thanks for letting me come in..." Gemma removed her coat. Her eyes looked red and puffy.

"I'm surprised you wanted to come all the way over here..." Henry took her coat and hung it up in the cupboard.

"I'm surprised too." Gemma laughed a little.

They sat in Henry's bedroom for a while with his mother present. She seemed coldly suspicious at first, but then announced that her show was on and she wanted to watch it, leaving the room shortly afterwards.

"Don't mind my mam, she doesn't mean it." Henry apologised.

"Doesn't mean what?" Gema asked sincerely.

Henry realised that Gemma had not picked up on his mother's passive aggression and decided to not say anything further about it. "Nothing, it's okay."

Gemma smiled and looked at the floor. "I know this is going to sound stupid but... it's about yesterday. In class."

Henry looked downwards and put his hand on his face. "Listen I'm sorry... I didn't mean to sound rude."

"Oh, no, no. You weren't rude. It's just, remember we were talking about night terrors?" Gemma was still staring at the floor.

Henry didn't really know what a night terror was but he nodded his head unwilling to discuss the topic of the dreams he had been having.

"Well... I don't know if it's because we talked about it but I ended up having one last night."

Suddenly Henry looked up in genuine concern, and suddenly he was interested to know exactly what a night terror was. He envisioned a particularly terrifying nightmare, but he knew that he could be wrong in his assumption. Not something he'd wish on anyone in any case. "What happened?" He asked.

Gemma tilted her head to the side. "Well... This is strange because I don't normally remember my night terrors. But I remember this one." She giggled, "Now I know just why they're called night terrors."

Henry looked confused. So if she doesn't remember her night terrors, they can't be nightmares...?

"It felt so real. In it I was a bird. Everything felt so exact. It was just... too real."

Henry's heart leapt at the similarity with his own situation.

"I remember like... grooming, is that what they do? Birds? They groom? It was like instinct. I didn't think why, I just did it. I remember the feathers sliding through my beak."

Henry smirked. "It sounds a bit weird but not too scary if you ask me."

"That wasn't the part that scared me." Gemma's expression was more serious all of a sudden. "I was in this forest and I was pecking at seeds on the ground. Anyway, I was hit hard with something. I can't say if it was water or something else. But I remember feeling like I had been punched in the face. I got pushed really fast into something. The pain went all the way up and down my back. Even my stomach hurt. And I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was suffocating."

"Is it even possible to feel pain in dreams? I'm not sure I've even ever felt that kind of pain while awake. Then suddenly the whole world around me started to swirl and look all messed up. I had a feeling like I was being dragged down and that I was getting heavier and heavier. I started to feel like I was being crushed and like things were squeezing and strangling me."

"After that, everything appeared normal again. I was back in the forest. I flew as fast as my wings could take me. I've never felt so scared." Gemma looked tense on the seat.

Henry's expression went from one of interest to one of concern. He leant forward and asked Gemma, "Do you remember anything else?"

"Yeah!" Gemma screwed up her face, making a confused smile. "Your brother was in it for some strange reason. He was just watching. It was so creepy." Gemma leaned forward and rubbed her back. "There's a ghost in my room or something I just know it."

Henry tried to hide how absurd he thought that was - after all, anyone would find his situation just as crazy.

"See..." Gemma stretched her back a little, "I woke up with bruises. Really big ones. I haven't told mum yet because I don't know how she'd react!" Her lip quivered a little like she was about to cry.

The blood suddenly drained from Henry's face. He recalled that he had woken up with a lump on his head and a sunburn from his dreams. "You said... Peter was there?"

Gemma seemed surprised and a little offended that that was Henry's main concern. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything."

"I don't know about that, Gemma." Henry excused himself for a moment and went to fetch Peter.

When he came back he had Peter behind him. Peter was looking at the ground in deep thought, still unable to overcome the shock of the attack on him and his pokemon. When he saw Gemma he just greeted with a nod, but didn't speak.

"Peter." Henry tried to get his attention, but Peter merely grunted in response. "What happened?"

When Peter looked up his eyes looked wetter than usual. He then slowly glanced back at Gemma as if he was surprised to see her there. "He nearly killed him." was all he could say, over and over again.

"Peter did you see Gemma anywhere in your dream?"

Peter didn't seem like he was very aware of his surroundings, and just shook his head gently as he sat down on the floor and went into a state of deep thought.

Gemma was beginning to catch on to what Henry was asking. She added in, "What about a bird?"

Peter rose his head again and seemed a bit more alert all of a sudden. "I caught birds. Then he made me let them all go. I don't understand. Why?" Peter frowned as he tried to figure it out in his mind. "I had just caught a new bird. I was going to train it."

"You seemed happy..." Gemma commented with a distinctive tone of sadness in her voice.

Peter's eyes widened. "Yeah, I was. How'd you know that?"

Gemma was silent for a moment, before carefully (and painfully) getting herself out of her seat. "I have to go."

"We're just getting somewhere with this." Henry got up and put his hand on her shoulder, only to have it violently shrugged off.

"Freaks. Stay away from me. Both of you." Gemma's voice wobbled. Henry heard her mumble something about witchcraft and a priest.

"This hasn't exactly been fun for us either!" Henry followed, but he was met with no response. Gemma grabbed her coat and left without even closing the door behind her, leaving Henry to watch her march down the stairway.
 
Ch 3


The kitchen was quiet that morning. Henry snuck in, once again Peter and his mother were already eating. Deep in thought, Henry almost over-spilled the milk as he was pouring it into his cereal. Henry took a glance at everyone as he sat down at the table. Peter took a spoonful of his cereal and dropped it back into the bowl, causing milk to splatter onto the table.

"Peter, eat your food properly, dear." His mother asked.

Peter began to eat quickly for a few seconds before winding down into a thought-filled halt. It was not like him to neglect his food. He caught eyes with Henry who also seemed somewhat distant. It was a while before he realised Peter was staring at him. They each exchanged glances and facial expressions as though they were exchanging thoughts. They began to realise something wasn't right about the other. What was wrong with the other... could it be the same thing?

"Henry, Peter, what's wrong with you two this morning? Are you both feeling okay? Should I make a doctor's appointment for you too, Peter?"

Peter just shook his head, staring at Henry. He subtly tilted his head to gesture to Henry that they go speak in private. Henry put his spoon in his bowl.

"I'm not hungry..." He got up and left his seat.

"Neither am I..." Peter followed.

"Wait you two aren't you going to clean up?" Their mother called. "Humph. I suppose I'll have to clean up this mess..."

They met up in Henry's bedroom and closed the door behind them. Henry leaned back against his radiator for warmth, feeling somewhat chilled from the contrast from being in a tropical climate to suddenly being in close to winter temperatures.

"Dude..." Peter spoke, not knowing what else to say.

"Indeed." Henry could only agree with Peter's lack of words.

"Are we even thinking about the same thing, dude?" Peter kicked back on Henry's bed and folded his arms underneath his head.

"I don't know." Henry replied blankly.

"Have you been dreaming weird lately?" Peter came out with it at last.

"I..." Henry hesitated, not wanting to sound crazy. "They don't feel like dreams."

"They're not, I know it! There's no way that was just a dream!" Peter raised his voice in excitement.

"What did you dream?"

Peter paused a moment and smiled a little. "You can't laugh."

Henry didn't say anything.

"It was about... pokemon" Despite asking Henry not to laugh, Peter himself started to snicker and snort.

Henry silently sat in thought.

"It felt so real though. I got given this pokemon by Professor Oak... A squirtle, can you believe that?"

"Blastoise always was your favourite." Henry pointed out, feeling there was some kind of significance in it. "The only pokemon I saw was a cyndaquil."

"And Typhlosion was your favourite." Peter had a think about it. "Wait... that must mean... we both saw our favourite pokemon! But un-evolved!"

"Well done..." Henry sarcastically congratulated Peter for pointing out the obvious.

"Did you dream about the same thing two nights in a row too?"

"Yeah and the second followed on from the first."

Peter bounced off of the bed and onto the floor. Excitedly he clutched his fist. "This is so many shades of awesome!"

Henry couldn't agree, but he didn't want to get into the details of his ordeal.

"I think it must be an alternate reality." Peter speculated.

"Let's not be so hasty."

"I'm going to sleep early tonight specially for this... I'll catch legendaries, you wait and see!"

Peter thundered out of Henry's room in excitement, completely oblivious to the fact that Henry was less than pleased.


---



"Make sure that you count every bracket, if you leave any out then the program won't compile..." The teacher rattled on to the class about the work.

Henry was behind and visibly flustered. He scratched his blond, pointy hair causing little flakes to fall onto his keyboard. He had long lost interest in the lecturing of the teacher. A long-haired brunette leaned over intrusively in front of his computer.

"It's because you haven't even declared the variables," she pointed to the screen, "You need to put them here before the statements."

Henry was about to bark about her getting in his way, but realised that his frustration was getting the better of him and allowed his classmate to help him. "So, how do I do that?"

"Here, like this..." She leaned over further and corrected the mistake. She then hit the compile button.

"Compiled successfully!" She cheered. "You had most of it right."

"Until I test it that is..." Henry moaned.

"Oh what's wrong with you today? So pessimistic. Maybe you should have stayed off 'sick'." The girl winked and nudged him with her elbow playfully.

"Sorry, Gemma... think I just need a break."

"Well....." She rolled her eyes slowly in thought, "It is the weekend."

"Yeah... I guess."

"My sister wanted to invite you to her birthday party, but you look like you need the rest."

"No!" Henry snapped.

Gemma stared in shock... along with a couple of other students in the near vicinity.

"I mean... sorry... Um. Bad dreams lately. I want to avoid resting."

"Oh, I used to get that when I was four. My mum called them night terrors...? I never wanted to go to bed." Gemma laughed half-heartedly.

"Yeah, I'll take up your sister's invitation." Henry smiled.

Gemma smiled back. "It'll be a blast! Be there after school, try not to be later than 6, that's when the cake is coming out. Mum has it all worked out! Don't expect any drinking though, mum's strict about that."

Henry just nodded. Any excuse to stay up.



---



Henry wasn't back as late as he hoped he would be. Wasn't much of a party either. Nevertheless, it was still dark in the house. He snuck past Peter's bedroom door. The rhythmic rumbling of snoring could be faintly heard. He went back to his room and opened his laptop. As well as that he took out a small packet from his pocket.

"Caffect..." He murmured. The packet made a rattling sound as he turned it to read the label. "Take no more than two within any 4 hour period..."

He opened the cap and emptied two tablets onto his desk. He grabbed a half-empty bottle of orange fizz and downed the pills with the drink.

Letting out a gasp he decided to get to work by distracting himself with his computer studies.



---



"Squirtle, use your water gun attack!"

The bouncy little blue bipedal turtle let out a powerful stream of water from its beak-like mouth. It sent the feathered opponent flying into a tree trunk. The soaked bird fluttered as it fell to the ground and struggled to get itself back onto its feet.

"Good work Squirtle, here's our chance!"

Peter reached into his pocket and brought out a shiny red and white ball. Standing behind him his shelled companion stared confidently at the flailing bird. Peter threw the ball at the bird. Upon impact it opened up with a flash and sucked the bird inside into an impossibly compressed space. The bird's shape became stretched as it spun into the swirling vortex that descended into the mouth of the contraption.

There was silence, even the wildlife stopped making any sound for a moment. The ball shook and bounced as the creature fought inside for its freedom. But it was to no avail. The bouncing slowed and eventually ceased.

"Alright! Excellent work little dude! We train this pidgey up into a pigeot and we'll have something to fly on!"

"Squirtaaal!" The squirtle cheered enthusiastically, raising its stubbly little webbed hands in victory.

Then Peter stopped and had a think. "Or..." He reached out for another pokeball while picking up his newly caught pidgey, "should we train up the spearow so it becomes a fearow? Decisions, decisions..."

Squirtle mimicked the intensity on Peter's face as they tried to decide which was better. At that moment, Squirtle's face became horror-struck. His beak quivered as he pointed at the source of his fear.

"What's wrong little dude?" Peter looked around first at Squirtle, and then and where Squirtle was pointing.

From the woods emerged a figure walking slowly forwards. Seeing someone dressed in the world of pokemon greatly confused Peter. And wielding a sword? Weren't pokemon the primary weapons in this world, he thought? Peter assumed a defensive stance, ready to send out one of his captured pokemon if need be. Surely, though, this weirdo was just dressing up for kicks. His eyes were not visible under the shadow of his long, jet black hair that draped over his face and shoulders, contrasting to the bright and sunny atmosphere.

A few feet away from Peter the man stopped walking. No part of his body moved except for his lips.

"Release the captive pokemon. Now."

Peter nervously laughed. "Hahaha... you have gotta be kidding me! Get your own!"

There was a moment where neither party moved or made a sound.

"Release them, human. This is your final warning."

Peter was no longer laughing. He gritted his teeth angrily. Who did this guy think he was? Release them 'human'? Peter mumbled under his breath, "What a frickin' weirdo..."

In a flash the sword carrier sped into a sprint before seemingly disappearing into thin air. Peter jumped and looked around frantically. There was another flash of light and out of nowhere there appeared to be several of the same man, mid-jump, all bringing down their swords upon Peter in unison. Peter closed his eyes tight instinctively and raised his arms above his head. The sound of metal slicing through hard material made Peter wince.. but he felt no pain.

He opened his eyes to see the tip of the sword facing straight at him. The man charged forward, sword held horizontally as Peter stumbled backwards until he was backed into a corner of closely packed plants. The metal blade gleamed in the sun breaking through the trees, revealing streaks of red along its length. Peter's eyes bulged at the sight. His sweat dripped from his chin onto the tip of the sword due to his nervous shaking.

"Release them."

There was no argument. Peter dove into his pockets, taking out ball after ball and letting them roll onto the ground As they did so they popped open, releasing fluttering and scurrying forms that made a break for their freedom without daring to look back.

As the last one made it a safe distance away, the sward was withdrawn from Peter's face and carefully placed back into its sheath, but the wielder didn't dare take his hand off it. He walked backwards, keeping his facing towards Peter until he was a safe distance. He then turned around and looked at the ground. When Peter looked to see what it was, he realised the worst.

"Foolish creature..." The man scorned, "you defend this filthy human but not your own brethren."

Peter made a hasty dash for his fallen pokemon. By this point the man was calmly on his way, walking into the woods. Peter knelt down to Squirtle's side. Squirtle lay on his back unable to move. His breathing sounded like the sound of a deflating tyre. Blood oozed out of the clean slice in his front shell, pooling on the dirt to either side of the tiny turtle. The shell part was almost cut into two.

"Squirtle!" Peter cried out agonizingly. "N... noooo!" Peter's voice gurned with horror. "What.. what do I..." Peter flailed in panic, looking around, trying not to hyperventilate. He burped, trying not to vomit. It didn't help that he had an excessive fear of blood.

Peter slipped his hands under the back of the shell and carefully cradled his last pokemon. The squirtle squeaked and made painful croaking sounds due to being picked up, but Peter had to ignore them. For his pokemon's sake he had to get back to the pokemon centre...



---


Breakfast that morning started out even quieter than the last one.

Henry shovelled cereal into his mouth lazily. Dark rings encircled his half-open eyes, self-deprived of any sleep. He chewed as if on autopilot. He also seemed entirely oblivious to his brother and his mother. Peter's leg shook furiously under the table. Worried eyes stared at the cereal, but didn't seem to even acknowledge that they were there. His eyes were wide and filled with fear.

"Okay, I want to know exactly WHAT is going in?!" Their mother yelled angrily. Peter snapped to attention, but his expression didn't change. Henry slowly turned his head, chewing like a cow with cud in its mouth and milk dribbling down his chin.

"What is WRONG with you two lately?! What... what's this, Henry?" She began to scream, pointing to his eyes. "And what's wrong with you, Peter, you look like you already know you're in trouble! Come on! SPILL IT!!"

There was no response from either of the boys.

"Oh... no..." She put her hand up to her face and shook her head... "I know what's going on, you've been taking drugs haven't you...HOW COULD YOU PETER!? You're supposed to be the responsible one... NOT getting your little brother involved in drugs!"

"Mam chill out..." Henry tried to diffuse her anger.

"Don't you give me any of your drug-slang-talk" she began to fumble with her words in her hysterics. "I'll find it. I'll find exactly what you've been doing..." with that she stormed through to one of the bedrooms to start searching for evidence.

Henry could no longer finish his breakfast. He threw the spoon into the bowl, splashing milk over the table. "Did you have another one last night?" He asked Peter.

Peter bit his fingernails as he nodded. "It was horrible, Henry... my Squirtle... Squirtle... he almost killed my Squirtle..." Peter pulled on his own curls.

Never before had Peter allowed himself to appear so distressed in front of Henry. If he didn't know his brother any better, Henry might think Peter was about to burst into tears any moment. Henry got up out of his seat. "These nightmares have GOT to stop!" Henry stormed through to go try to reason with his mother.

Peter was left alone in the kitchen, unable to tear away from the thoughts of his Squirtle.

Their mother seemed to spend much of the day searching for some kind of evidence. All the while they were commanded not to leave the house for any reason. Although Peter was eighteen he was not quite as rebellious (nor as sharp-witted) as many of the boys that he was usually influenced by, and was reluctant to leave even though he protested being locked in. It was Henry who eventually convinced his mother that there were no drugs involved. However, he would need to explain what had been bothering them, and that could scare her just as much. Not that she would believe him, but that she would fear for their sanity.

Henry's phone jangled as he was about to try to explain things to his mother. He picked up his phone and glanced at his mother, knowing he would need her permission. She rubbed her tensed eyebrows and nodded. Henry pressed the call button, killing the jangle.

"Hello...?" He asked, not recognising the number.

"Hi, Henry..." The voice was female.

"... Who is this?"

"It's Gemma..."

"Oh, hi, Gemma. How's it going?" Henry tried to sound cheerful, but he could only manage mildly depressed. It didn't even occur to him that he didn't remember ever giving her his number.

There was a moment of silence before Gemma replied, "Can we meet up?"

"Gemma, I'd like to, but just now..." Henry tried to consider that whatever Gemma was calling for, she sounded upset. "... what's it about?"

"You're going to find it silly..."



There was nowhere warm enough outdoors for them to meet. Gemma suggested that they simply meet in the stairway to his apartment. Henry was surprised that she would come all this way for a chat in the stair. When she arrived, she invited her in.

"Thanks for letting me come in..." Gemma removed her coat. Her eyes looked red and puffy.

"I'm surprised you wanted to come all the way over here..." Henry took her coat and hung it up in the cupboard.

"I'm surprised too." Gemma laughed a little.

They sat in Henry's bedroom for a while with his mother present. She seemed coldly suspicious at first, but then announced that her show was on and she wanted to watch it, leaving the room shortly afterwards.

"Don't mind my mam, she doesn't mean it." Henry apologised.

"Doesn't mean what?" Gema asked sincerely.

Henry realised that Gemma had not picked up on his mother's passive aggression and decided to not say anything further about it. "Nothing, it's okay."

Gemma smiled and looked at the floor. "I know this is going to sound stupid but... it's about yesterday. In class."

Henry looked downwards and put his hand on his face. "Listen I'm sorry... I didn't mean to sound rude."

"Oh, no, no. You weren't rude. It's just, remember we were talking about night terrors?" Gemma was still staring at the floor.

Henry didn't really know what a night terror was but he nodded his head unwilling to discuss the topic of the dreams he had been having.

"Well... I don't know if it's because we talked about it but I ended up having one last night."

Suddenly Henry looked up in genuine concern, and suddenly he was interested to know exactly what a night terror was. He envisioned a particularly terrifying nightmare, but he knew that he could be wrong in his assumption. Not something he'd wish on anyone in any case. "What happened?" He asked.

Gemma tilted her head to the side. "Well... This is strange because I don't normally remember my night terrors. But I remember this one." She giggled, "Now I know just why they're called night terrors."

Henry looked confused. So if she doesn't remember her night terrors, they can't be nightmares...?

"It felt so real. In it I was a bird. Everything felt so exact. It was just... too real."

Henry's heart leapt at the similarity with his own situation.

"I remember like... grooming, is that what they do? Birds? They groom? It was like instinct. I didn't think why, I just did it. I remember the feathers sliding through my beak."

Henry smirked. "It sounds a bit weird but not too scary if you ask me."

"That wasn't the part that scared me." Gemma's expression was more serious all of a sudden. "I was in this forest and I was pecking at seeds on the ground. Anyway, I was hit hard with something. I can't say if it was water or something else. But I remember feeling like I had been punched in the face. I got pushed really fast into something. The pain went all the way up and down my back. Even my stomach hurt. And I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was suffocating."

"Is it even possible to feel pain in dreams? I'm not sure I've even ever felt that kind of pain while awake. Then suddenly the whole world around me started to swirl and look all messed up. I had a feeling like I was being dragged down and that I was getting heavier and heavier. I started to feel like I was being crushed and like things were squeezing and strangling me."

"After that, everything appeared normal again. I was back in the forest. I flew as fast as my wings could take me. I've never felt so scared." Gemma looked tense on the seat.

Henry's expression went from one of interest to one of concern. He leant forward and asked Gemma, "Do you remember anything else?"

"Yeah!" Gemma screwed up her face, making a confused smile. "Your brother was in it for some strange reason. He was just watching. It was so creepy." Gemma leaned forward and rubbed her back. "There's a ghost in my room or something I just know it."

Henry tried to hide how absurd he thought that was - after all, anyone would find his situation just as crazy.

"See..." Gemma stretched her back a little, "I woke up with bruises. Really big ones. I haven't told mum yet because I don't know how she'd react!" Her lip quivered a little like she was about to cry.

The blood suddenly drained from Henry's face. He recalled that he had woken up with a lump on his head and a sunburn from his dreams. "You said... Peter was there?"

Gemma seemed surprised and a little offended that that was Henry's main concern. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything."

"I don't know about that, Gemma." Henry excused himself for a moment and went to fetch Peter.

When he came back he had Peter behind him. Peter was looking at the ground in deep thought, still unable to overcome the shock of the attack on him and his pokemon. When he saw Gemma he just greeted with a nod, but didn't speak.

"Peter." Henry tried to get his attention, but Peter merely grunted in response. "What happened?"

When Peter looked up his eyes looked wetter than usual. He then slowly glanced back at Gemma as if he was surprised to see her there. "He nearly killed him." was all he could say, over and over again.

"Peter did you see Gemma anywhere in your dream?"

Peter didn't seem like he was very aware of his surroundings, and just shook his head gently as he sat down on the floor and went into a state of deep thought.

Gemma was beginning to catch on to what Henry was asking. She added in, "What about a bird?"

Peter rose his head again and seemed a bit more alert all of a sudden. "I caught birds. Then he made me let them all go. I don't understand. Why?" Peter frowned as he tried to figure it out in his mind. "I had just caught a new bird. I was going to train it."

"You seemed happy..." Gemma commented with a distinctive tone of sadness in her voice.

Peter's eyes widened. "Yeah, I was. How'd you know that?"

Gemma was silent for a moment, before carefully (and painfully) getting herself out of her seat. "I have to go."

"We're just getting somewhere with this." Henry got up and put his hand on her shoulder, only to have it violently shrugged off.

"Freaks. Stay away from me. Both of you." Gemma's voice wobbled. Henry heard her mumble something about witchcraft and a priest.

"This hasn't exactly been fun for us either!" Henry followed, but he was met with no response. Gemma grabbed her coat and left without even closing the door behind her, leaving Henry to watch her march down the stairway.
 
Ch 4



Henry typed away on his laptop, rubbing his eyes every so often. His typing was intense and rapid. This wasn't just mere homework. He scrolled around with his USB mouse before commencing further rattling of the keyboard. On the screen were many tabs concerning paranormal activities and dreams - but none of them even touched upon the phenomenon he, his brother and his classmate were experiencing.

It was dark outside. The rain battered against the window, creating a continuous white noise. The light from his desk lamp was just bright enough to illuminate the little corner of his room that he was working in. From time to time Henry would stop to rub his eyes and just think. Heavy eyelids began to sink, as would his head. When he caught on that he was falling asleep he reached his shaky hand for his caffeine tablets. He didn't like caffeine, it made him feel nauseous, but it also kept him awake. He grabbed the packet and realised there was no sound from it. It was empty.

"Did I take that much?"

He crossed his arms on the desk and lay his head down in defeat. He knew he would have to sleep eventually. His whole body jerked as he was about to fall off his seat from falling asleep at his desk. It was time, he concluded, to try to get some rest.


---



Henry had only laid down on his bed for a brief few seconds when suddenly he didn't feel like he was in his own bedroom any more. He didn't even feel like he had fallen asleep. The air seemed to change suddenly. His body and mind felt rejuvenated. His eyes sprung open with alertness. He was back in Clarissa's hut again just where he had taken a rest last time. The same, sun-drenched atmosphere that he had experienced before. The same constant hum of wildlife.

There was nobody around. Henry made his way out of the door onto the same dusty path he had been down twice before. How long had passed in this world, he wondered. It looked to be mid-day, but was this a whole day and a bit later? Had the lack of sleep in the real world affected his length of sleep in this world?

"Hey, you!" A voice shouted from behind. Henry turned around to see someone standing at the door he had just exited. He was a modestly dressed man - a white cotton shirt, a pair of loose black trousers. Definitely not armour like most of the others. His hair was like black stubble on his head. However, his face (despite being neatly shaven with only traces of hair on his upper lip and chin) looked wild. His eyebrows forked at the sides like the tips of a noctowl's 'ears'. His dark, round eyes were like those of a lion. His intense stare made it seem as though he could snarl and bite at any moment. His very essence made Henry feel weak and inferior. Much like the effect the leader, Neil, had earlier.

Henry pointed at himself as if to ask, "Me?"

"Yeah, you!" the man tilted his head back in a gesture for Henry to come forward.

Henry reluctantly approached, dreading that he was in for some kind of punishment. After all, Neil hadn't said whether or not he believed Henry's story.

"I have been assigned by my father to train you. You might know him as Neil. Are you ready?"

Henry frowned, not knowing what this training would involve, and not sure if he should be grateful or if he should be fearful. In any case he knew that he had no say in the matter - especially if this guy was anything like his dad. He looked up and nodded his head reluctantly.

"You will address me as Jove. You will be assigned with me for the next three months. For that time you will do what I say, when I say it, without complaints. Disobedience will be met with strict discipline." Jove declared the conditions as if he had declared them many times before.

Henry didn't want to mess around with this guy. He nodded his head obediently.

"Come with me."



---



Peter couldn't quite remember how he got to use one of the pokemon centre's many beds, but he didn't much care either. Forgetting about his things (and his shoes) he leapt up and ran down the stairs, almost slipping on the tiles, towards the pokemon centre front desk. There three police officers stood speaking with the nurse.

"My Squirtle!?" Peter yelled louder than necessary.

The nurse gave Peter a sympathetic glance and smiled. "He's stable." She began and dropped her smile, "But we can't say for certain yet if he will make a full recovery."

Peter screwed up his face. "That's impossible!" His lip started shaking, "He's a pokemon, he can recover...?"

"His shell continually grows, Peter." The nurse began to explain slowly and gently to him. "Even if we can bind it, we will need to keep readjusting the braces as he grows. The best thing for now is to let him rest. If the damage isn't too severe, his shell might bind back together by itself."

"You don't know...?"

The nurse looked down at her feet, feeling responsibility for the situation, "Pokemon are mysterious creatures. They're not as predictable as humans or animals."

"We will need to ask you a few questions about the incident." One of the female officers butted in.

"Sure..." Peter agreed and slowly sat down at one of the tables available for trainer use. "I just wanna see that guy..." Peter stopped himself for a moment from revealing the violent feelings he had for the attacker in front of the police. "...behind bars."

"We will do our best." Another female - an investigator - sat down to join them.

"But we need to know exactly what he looked like and how he attacked your pokemon. Can you describe him...?"

Peter went into detail about the odd manner of the man's dress. He could only describe him as disguised loosely as a samurai, with the sword to match. But this was still inaccurate. There was something very strange about his facial features. The man's features were pointy and devilishly wicked. His movements were silent, flawless and completely balanced, not to mention lightning fast. Peter didn't want to sound so crazy as to say he was beyond human though.

"And he wanted you to release all of your pokemon?" The investigator asked.

"That's right."

"Do you know why he attacked your pokemon?"

Pether stopped to think. He didn't really know. "He came to attack me. Somehow Squirtle got in the way." Peter shrugged his shoulders. "So I wasn't hit."

"The nurse said that you had described seeing more than one of him at once. What did you mean by that?"

Peter shook his head. "I think... I think my mind was just playing tricks."

"But you did see more than one of him?"

Peter nodded. "I guess... for a second."

"Hyvan?" The officer suggested.

"Hyvan." The investigator confirmed. "It all fits."

"High van?" Peter asked in puzzlement. He pictured a double-decker van in his mind and wondered what that had to do with anything.

"I didn't think they were still found in Kanto. We had better alert the station." The officer hurriedly reached for her talk phone.

"Never mind alerting just the station. Alert the whole region." The investigator advised. "Peter, it's vital that everything you are saying is completely accurate."

"I cross my heart." Peter promised. "That's just how it all happened. But what's a high van?"

"Your parents never told you?" She rolled her eyes in disappointment. "I guess they've been gone for so long people are starting to forget. But everyone needs to know. There might be more of them. They're a vicious human-shape species of pokemon that have the ability to disguise themselves amongst us. They're not like other pokemon, beware of that. They have a disposition for violence and anarchy and are nothing but a menace towards humans and pokemon alike. They can be exposed by their types and abilities. The majority do not like birds, as they are fighting type pokemon. You'll notice a lot of homes nowadays keep birds. It's really just a tradition now, we thought they were extinct in Kanto, but it would seem they have returned."

Peter looked to the pidgeotto preening itself on a perch near the pokecentre entrance.

"I had just caught a bird pokemon when he attacked." Peter explained. "A pidgey."

"That's significant." She added, taking a note of the new information. "He probably didn't want you to train it, for fear that you might make it strong enough to defeat him or his kind."

"Yeah." Peter began to think hard. Clogs in his mind began to turn on one by one.



----



This was no ordinary dream.

Soaring through the air exhilarated her every time, enough to forget about her troubles for just a brief moment. To see the ground beneath her zooming by, the tiny trees, cars, houses and people so far down as they went about their business. Other birds joined her, ones that she could automatically recognise as her own kind, though she didn't understand how she knew. But she didn't think too much about it either.

One of the tiny people below caught her eye. It was him again. She still ached, but not as badly. Still, an instinct grew over her, banishing her rational thought. She withdrew her wings slightly so that she made a gentle descent. She tilted her tail so that she encircled him from above.

Peter sat on the gravel car park outside the pokemon centre feeling helpless for his fallen pokemon. Just then something fell in front of him and made a splat on the ground. Bird poo - uncomfortably near. He looked up to see a bird fluttering and flapping around far above his head.

"Missed." He said.

The bird screeched angrily and made a sudden dive. Peter didn't realise at first, but when he did he ducked the best he could. The pidgey shredded the air as it went past, narrowly missing Peter's scalp. Peter scrambled to his feet.

"Hey, what's the big idea?!" He shouted angrily at the bird as it turned to strike again.

Peter readied himself, arms out at his sides. The pidgey flapped her beige little wings as fast as she could, so angrily that feathers fell away behind her. Peter didn't take his eyes off her as she accelerated in her approach. Her clawed feet reached forward ready to slash as she made her close fly-by.

Peter's podgy hands lunged at the bird and grabbed her, tightening their grip around her legs and lower body. Her wings fluttered and slapped against Peter's wrists in vain, whirring and whistling due to the sound of the air rushing through her feathers. She began to angrily nip and peck at Peter's hands and fingers to try to loosen their grip on her. Peter winced in pain, but it wasn't too much for him to bear. He patiently waited for the pidgey's flapping and biting to stop.

She began to come back to her senses. The rush of energy that caused her to attack was draining away. Her raised cream and red crest of feathers flattened down against her head. She couldn't quite remember in her pidgey form exactly why she was so angry with this human. All she could remember was that he had been there during the recent attack on her and that made her furious.

But now he had her in his grasp. That moment of anger cost her.

"Hahaha..." Peter chuckled. "Gotcha."

She turned her beak downwards and sunk her beak into his skin.

"Hey I'm not goanna hurt'cha." Peter tried to remain calm as her biting became close to unbearable.

She stopped struggling for a moment and felt Peter's tight grasp loosening somewhat. It seemed the only way to prevent herself from coming to any harm was to remain still.

"I'm going to let you go again" Peter began, "but I want to ask you something. If you understand me."

The pidgey remained still as if she had stopped specially to listen, her trailing feathers wobbling slightly at the slight bird-like ticks and turns of her head.

"There's something bad happening in Kanto. Really bad. My Squirtle's in there." He nodded to the pokemon centre. "He almost died. It's that bad. I need bird pokemon to help me defeat this enemy. You could help me, couldn't you?" Peter pleaded jokingly.

After that he let go of his grip on the pidgey. She didn't hesitate to make a swift escape, flailing about at first until she had attained a natural rhythm to her flapping, took off into the air and, eventually, into the distant trees.

"Didn't think so." Peter shook his head and smirked.


---
Henry expected to be taken to some kind of gym or training facility, but it ended up being that we was taken to a small clearing in the jungle. When they stopped walking he looked around expectantly for some kind of indication that this was a training ground.

"Is this going to hurt?" Henry asked.

Jove didn't respond at first. He just bent down into the shrubbery and pulled out a long wooden pole and stood back up holding it vertically. "Depends" was all he had to say.

Henry was afraid to ask any more, but to his relief Jove began to explain. "If avoidance is all you're capable of for now, that's what we'll work on." Jove smirked mockingly, shaking his head. "Maybe, just maybe you'll learn some offensive attacks."

Henry was reminded of how he had scoffed at pokemon like abra and magikarp that couldn't stand on their own in battle due to their inability to actually deal any damage. But those were just computer games. They never felt any shame because they were not real. Henry, on the other hand was a sad living example and opposite him stood a man that could probably rip his head off in two seconds flat.

Henry suddenly felt very small.

"We don't leave this clearing until you level up. You level up by avoiding my attacks."

Henry was surprised that they took levelling up literally here. In the gaming world levels are just an abstraction so that the player can gauge how strong their characters are and how well they are progressing in the game. His thought was interrupted by a whack to the side of his head, causing him to stumble off to his side. His right ear made a ringing sound from the assault. He put his hand up to his cheek. It stung, but he was not injured.

Jove stood with the pole outstretched. "But if you don't avoid my attacks you won't level up. And you'll have wasted my time. Trust me you don't want to be the one responsible for wasting my time."

"How do you know I've levelled?" Henry asked as he rubbed his red cheek. He felt the question was important enough to ask.

"You'll notice" was Jove's only response. He suddenly crouched and swung the pole with more vigorous force this time under Henry's feet. Henry's legs were swept out of the way causing him to crash onto the dry earth onto his side. The wind was forced out of him from the fall, causing him to curl up and gasp.

"We'll keep trying this until you learn to teleport out of the way."

Henry clambered to his feet clutching his side and coughing. "But... I don't know how."

"Then learn fast. Remember what you did last time." Jove lunged forward and swung again.



----




Getting out of bed that morning, Henry felt like a crippled old man. He limped through the hallway, clutching his back. The kitchen wasn't his first destination this morning. Looking into the bathroom mirror he pressed his fingertip on the light bruise on his cheek. Then on the swollen, blue egg on his left eyebrow (that had clearly been bleeding, evidenced by the wide, cleaned-up scab beneath it). He winced at the pain that even a slight brush of his fingertip caused. He felt sick. Not so much at the pain, but at how he was going to explain this. He looked like he had been in a fight. The blue in the iris on his left eye was stained read due to concussion. This was pretty serious.

"I need to piss." A muffled voice could be heard outside the door.

Henry opened the bathroom door a crack and whispered for Peter to come inside.

"Dude... why?" Peter curled his nose.

"I'm in deep shit..." Henry whispered again.

"How deep?"

"Just come in for a second."

Peter crept into the bathroom leaving the door open behind him. His eyes widened with surprise when he took a look at Henry's bruised face. Henry just nodded his head and sighed before repeating, "As I said. These dreams have got to stop."

"That came from your dream?!" Peter tried to suppress his voice, keeping at a whispering level.

"Be careful what you do in your dreams..." Henry warned. "If this can happen" he pointed at himself "then I hate to think what else can happen."

Peter thought back to the time he had come literally inches away from being slashed to pieces. Sure the experience itself was terrifying, but knowing it was a dream he didn't imagine that the threat was actually real. He gulped at the thought of having come so close to never waking up. Of his mother perhaps finding him in severed pieces under his duvet.

"So... what caused that?" Peter asked. "Are you in some kind of danger?"

"Nah... combat training, believe it or not. I'll be fine."

"Phew!" Peter sighed in relief. "I should warn you about something going on in the pokemon world right now. Something the Kanto police informed me of."

Henry stood silently, ready to listen.

"Have you come across this term yet - hyvans?"

Henry wasn't sure where this was going, but if Peter was warning him about the hyvans, he certainly didn't want to tell him that in the dream world he actually is one. "Go on." Henry dodged the question.

"They're a totally new kind of pokemon. They look just like humans but they're really, really dangerous and they hate humans. They'll kill you. According to the police they almost got wiped out but they're making a comeback now. Be on your guard at all times. Do you have your own pokemon?"

Henry just shook his head.

"Get some. Get flying types and psychic types. The hyvans are weak to them. Train your pokemon up because even then the hyvans are still really strong." Peter stopped to think for a moment. "Where about are you, are you anywhere near Kanto?"

Henry shook his head again. "I'm not sure to be honest. Wherever I am it's really hot."

"Hm..." Henry rubbed his thumb on his chin. "I was going to say we could meet up and I'd help you catch some. I plan to train birds and psychics mostly, aside from my squirtle. I'll rid Kanto of hyvans."

Henry's mouth was going dry. Should he tell him that not all hyvans are dangerous? Or would it be futile?

"Are you sure that isn't a bit... I dunno. Extreme?" Henry suggested.

"It's either us or them." Peter announced with zeal. "We let them take over and we're done for. I was almost killed by one of them!"

"Almost?"

"I think he let me live as a warning. You know, let everyone know they're back. Spread the fear. But it's backfired on him. I'm going to be prepared next time!"

"So this is what's been going on..." A familiar voice spoke behind Peter.

"Oh! H-h-hey mam." Peter greeted nervously.

"Henry! Dear..." She rushed to inspect Henry's face, taking her glasses out of her house coat pocket and putting them on. "What happened to you...?"

"Mam... there's something we have to tell you." Henry began.

"I heard you two speaking, but... You can't honestly believe this came from a dream!" Her tone of voice sounded more scornful, as though she felt that he was lying. "Peter, why would you encourage this?"

Peter stood in silence glancing at them both back and forth. One, his brother, eyes pleading for support. The other, his mother, begging him to be the responsible adult.

"Peter... you didn't do this did you?" Tears welled up in his mother's eyes as she pointed at Henry's face.

"No! No way!" Peter began to panic. "I swear!"

"Then how did this happen?" Her voice became louder and shakier.

There was silence from the brothers. Both looked to the floor, both wishing that they could escape the situation any way possible. This was truly beyond either of their capability to solve. She wasn't going to be convinced. If she really had heard everything, and she didn't believe it, what more could they say?

Suddenly their mother stormed through to the lounge and picked up the phone. Peter sped after her and grabbed her arm.

"Get off of me!" She screamed and began to kick her own son in the shins, which was ineffective with only slippers on. "HELP!" She cried out as if she were being attacked by a complete stranger.

"Listen to us, mam, we're telling the truth!" Peter tried her best to calm her down by restraining her, but it only made her more violent. The phone receiver lay on the sofa, a faint voice could be heard. She took the opportunity to scream for the police before Peter let go of her in order to hang up the phone.

She ran into the kitchen and grabbed a large chopping knife and backed herself under the table. Peter with his social incompetence, rather than giving her space, instead encroached on her in order to try to explain things to her - only provoking threats from her and questions regarding his sanity.

Peter stormed back through seeking support from his brother. Henry was not in the bathroom. The front door was still locked. Peter stormed through to his bedroom, then to his brother's bedroom, and checked all of the cupboards. He looked behind the shower curtain, outside the windows, growing more and more desperate. Their mother had never acted like this before and despite Peter being the older of the two, he really needed his younger brother's support.

It was as though Henry had just vanished.
 
Hmm. I like.

And the story's quality is quite good. I have, thus far, found nothing to nitpic.

But. One question, that isn't all that clear to me. When Hunter is in the dream, is he a human or a pokémon? Also, that Ratatta talked in chapter one. Wouldn't the Pidgey/Gemma have been able to talk also?
 
Sorry... Hunter? Rattata?

I think you may be replying to the wrong fic, lol! Mine doesn't have either of those characters.

Oh wait you mentioned pidgey/Gemma... she does talk in later chapters. I figured there would be a kind of transition period where she would still be getting used to being in a new body, and may not be able to exert full control over herself at first, but she does start to speak (I've written up to chapter 7 so far, she starts talking I think in chapter 5). But the only pokemon in chapter 1 was a cyndaquil as mentioned in chapter 2, and I still don't know who Hunter is. Maybe you mean Henry? He's human... or more accurately "hyvan" but they're basically humans with pokemon attacks and abilities (as Clarissa stated in chapter 2).
 
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Ch 5

Darkness had fallen on the streets of Vancouver. The street lamps provided the only illumination. The silhouettes of bare deciduous trees forked and jagged into the dark blue, near-black sky. The windows of homes began to light up one by one. A lonely figure stood at an apartment window, staring out into the night. Her mascara had since ran and needed to be washed off, but traces remained around her darkened puffy eyes. Her usually neat curls had become a tangled mess, somehow, without her knowing. But she didn't care. She just wanted her boys to come home.

There was a brief flash from the inside of a room a couple of windows along. Within that split second it had become completely dark again before a light was switched on. Henry stood by his bedroom light switch, thinking about what he should do next, unsure of whether or not to approach his mother straight away. What had been said between her and Peter while he was gone? What he had heard had terrified him to the point that he finally learned how to use that teleport move of his. Dreams creeping into reality... indeed.

A creaky floor board gave him away as he tried to move quietly into the lounge area.

"Who's there?" his mother yelped.

"It's just me..."

"Henry?"

She rushed through to meet him at the lounge doorway, but not with the enthusiasm that she felt deep down inside. "Where have you been, Henry?" she asked calmly.

Henry replied truthfully, "I've been out for a walk." He had. For nearly eight hours straight. His body shivered and his ears were bright pink from the cold. He had only enough time to throw on a sweater and a pair of joggers, along with a pair of shoes, when his instinct to teleport out of the house kicked in.

His mother looked at the floor before turning around to let him get past. Henry made his way to the sofa and flopped himself down before opening his mouth.

"Mam, I..."

"Henry, I..."

The two said in unison. They both stopped to let the other speak. Naturally, Henry's mother had right of way.

"Henry... Do you really believe those bruises came from your dreams?"

Henry was reminded of the time that Neil had asked him if he honestly believed the dream world wasn't real. Of course part of him wanted to say yes, it's not real, it's all just a dream. But he couldn't bring himself to. His inner nature to dislike lies prevented him from speaking of what he didn't know. Just like then, now once again he didn't know how to answer his mother until he had given the question some thought. This time he felt he knew the opposite.

"All of the evidence points to it" he started, "but I don't know for sure."

"What evidence, Henry?" His mother had not taken a seat yet.

Henry took more time to think again before formulating a reply. "I need a video camera... that can record several hours of footage."

"No, Henry, that's not what I'm asking. What evidence do you already have?"

"Just these bruises. And what I remember. Doesn't prove anything to you but it's proof for me."

Henry's mother eyed him up and down suspiciously for a moment before taking her seat on the sofa next to him.

"How long have they been going on?" she asked.

"About four nights now." Henry replied, afterwards counting with the fingers on his hands to double check. He had to consider that night he remained awake and didn't dream.

"You said... comabt training?" She found it hard to imagine her skinny little baby-faced son partaking in any acts of violence. The only fight she remembered being called into the school for was the one where Henry had refused to fight back until the very last moment. "So have you learned anything? Can you show me?"

"Yeah. I learned how to get beat up. Not sure how to show you." Although there was a hint of humour in his voice, Henry stared blankly at the patterns on the carpet with a straight face. Henry knew there was something he could show her, but the resulting freak out it could cause didn't seem worth proving his story. "Mam?" he asked.

"Mm-hm?"

"Where's Peter?"

There was no response.

"Mam?" Henry asked again, not sure if she had heard the first time.

"I don't know. He stormed out. He hasn't come back yet."

Peter never did come back that night. Although they didn't talk much, Henry stayed up with his mother until late that night to wait for him. He did take the time to try to assure to her that Peter was not guilty of anything like she had feared earlier, but he wasn't sure if his efforts were taken on board.

03:30 in the morning. The boys' mother rose out of bed and put on her thick house coat and slippers. She switched on her own bedside lamp but left off the hallway light as she made her way through to Henry's bedroom. It was hard to see, but there was just enough illumination to make out the lump under the bedcovers. Peeling the covers back slightly revealed Henry sleeping on his left side. He was tranquil as he slept - not a snore.

His mother raised her hand and placed it on his cheek. As her eyes adjusted to the dark the light reflecting through from her bedroom provided ample illumination to see his features clearly. His long eyelashes flickered as she touched his soft cheek, but for the most pert Henry didn't stir.

A sudden jolt of Henry's body made his mother gasp and stand back... but all Henry did was let out a deep sigh and continue to sleep soundly. She reached out and shook his shoulder. "Henry" she whispered. He began to frown and breathe more erratically, but he didn't wake up. Her motherly instincts kicked in, if there was something wrong she needed to know. She shook his shoulder harder.


---



"I didn't hit you that hard, stop exaggerating."

Henry gasped and spluttered, clutching his stomach. He leaned back against a tree in order to hold his balance. It felt as though his diaphragm was permanently pushed inwards and was unable to take a breath. Every time he tried to breathe the pain was unbearable. His face was going red and his eyes started to water.

"Why didn't you dodge? You saw it coming!" Jove lectured, standing his training weapon vertically at his side. He didn't much care that his shouting was making Henry's pain worse.

"I got..." Henry's stomach clenched causing him to heave slightly. "...distracted."

"Then that's something we need to work on, isn't it? You need to remain focused." Jove tried to hide his concern. While he had an image to maintain in front of his students, he also knew when he had gone too far with them. This was one of those occasions where he really wondered if he had hit them just that bit too hard.

Although Henry was able to take a proper breath by this time, pain still showed on his face with tension in each breath. His legs gave way causing his rear to thud against the ground. He was still clutching his stomach when he curled himself up into a heaving, twitching ball. His skin had gone a chalky white.

Jove stood over him inspecting him carefully, looking for any signs of the extent of Henry's injury. He gave Herny a gentle prod in the side with his pole to see if he was faking. When there was no response from Henry he knelt down next to him. Just as he did Henry's body very suddenly stopped seizing and relaxed. Jove pulled up one of Henry's closed eyelids. Only a faint sliver of blue could be seen near the top eyelid, and his eye and eyelid didn't make its natural reflex twitches. He was out. And he wasn't faking.


---



"Mam...?" Henry groaned weakly, finding himself in his own bedroom. His breaths were short and sharp. "You woke me up..."

"Were you having another one of your bad dreams?" His mother put her hand on his forehead. It felt hot and sticky.

"You distracted me, mam" Henry said with a shaky voice.

"Distracted you from what, dear? You look absolutely terrible."

"I think I'm gunna puke..." Henry tried to swallow down his saliva fast to suppress any desire to vomit, but his mouth was so dry it felt as though there was nothing to swallow. Every clench of his stomach was like many knives being driven into his torso and mid-section.

"Oh no, hold it 'till I get a bucket..."

"False alarm." He joked, trying to ignore the pain.

Henry's mother rubbed his forehead again. "There's definitely something strange going on, isn't there?"

"Yeah. But... don't wake me if I'm asleep."

"Why not, weren't you scared?"

"Yeah..." Henry's eyelids started to become heavy as he felt the desire to sleep again overcome him, "But it was a bad time to wake me. I got distracted."

"From what, what are you talking about, honey?"

"From training. So I got hit in the stomach and now it really hurts."

"Henry..." his mother said as though he was talking nonsense, "I'm sure it's because you haven't eaten all day. That's why your stomach hurts." She kissed him on the forehead and walked over to his bedroom door.

"Mam. I'm not a little kid any more."

His mother chuckled a little before suddenly turning serious. "If that stomach ache gets any worse, come and wake me up, okay?"


As Henry closed his eyes in this world, it was as if they were opening in the dream world. His vision was blurry at first. The first thing he noticed was a silhouette standing above him against the backdrop of the blue sky. The tapping of a foot on the ground next to his head gave an indication of impatience.


---


Henry had spent most of the rest of that day under Clarissa's care, and he had not been able to drift back off to sleep. He lay on her bed with the covers off and his eyes closed, but his mind racing with thoughts. The sun had long since set over the horizon but Henry's skin was still gleaming with sweat.

"Clarissa..."

Clarissa turned around slowly, her eyelids drooping with boredom. "What is it, Henry?"

Henry shifted a little in the bed and let out a deep, frustrated breath. "Don't they have pain killers here... or, like, sleeping pills or something? It's too hot to sleep."

"It's because you have a fever and the medic told me that you didn't need pain killers. Just try to sleep, okay?"

Henry angrily grumbled under his breath, "The medic can go stuff..."

There was a knock at the door, before the knocker rudely barged in without awaiting a response.

"Jove..." Clarissa curled up her nose. "Go cause trouble elsewhere I can't be bothered with you right now."

"Whoa, the bitch can talk." Jove jested.

Clarissa gave a loud 'tut' and huffed. She got up out her seat and made her way out the door. "You can baby-sit then I'm outta here."

"No way, Clarissa this is your job!" Jove roared loudly, startling Henry info full alertness. Henry could hear Clarissa shouting profanities as she got further away.

Jove knew that he couldn't allow himself to be held responsible for leaving Henry by himself on the slight off-chance that his condition could worsen. Ha! The way of weaklings, he thought. Although Henry had gone into shock for a few minutes earlier that day, Jove was convinced that it was purely psychological. A result of having no experience and being emotionally weak. He laughed at the idea that Henry had perhaps never felt anything more painful in his life than a mere pulled tooth or a broken toe.

"Up!" He ordered.

"Wha...?" Henry looked over in disbelief.

"I said: Up!"

Henry looked at Jove for a moment as though he was completely insane. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, slowly and carefully, screwing up his face at every jolt of pain. After some struggling, finally he was seated upright.

"You slept?" Jove asked.

"No... I can't sleep" Henry whinged pathetically.

"Heh!" Jove grunted. "Then you may as well come with me."

"You're gonna kill me!" Henry whinged again, this time with a hint of panic in his voice.

"Bah! I'm not interested in training you any more tonight." Jove chuckled as he walked out of the door. He stopped for a moment before turning back around again to see Henry still sitting there. "Come on then!"

Henry jumped with fright at Jove's order and scrambled to his feet surprisingly quickly for someone who was in a lot of pain.


---



Henry's slow limping was barely tolerable to Jove. As they reached their destination, Henry noticed candle-lit lanterns and people sitting together at tables. It was fairly quiet, with a small bar serving what smelled like food. It overlooked the moonlit sea, which sloshed and hissed in the distance providing a gentle, relaxing ambience.

Jove motioned for Henry to sit next to him at the bar. Henry struggled to clamber up onto the stool - a job that would have been easy for him normally, but in this instance presented him with a lot of pain. Of course, Jove just stat and watched rather than helping him.

A deep, soft voice spoke from behind the counter, "So what'll it be tonight, Jove?"

Henry wasn't sure if he was hallucinating at first, but the sight of the creature behind the counter made him gasp and nearly fall backwards on his stool. Its big, round eyes were larger than those of any human and covering them slightly was a round, red head piece with what looked like dropping ears at either side. Beneath its large head was an incredibly lean, thin body, the rest of which could not be seen beneath the counter. As it stared deeply into Henry's scared eyes, its red lips moved and out came words in clear, fluent English.

"Yes, Henry, many pokemon speak here. It helps foster better relations between pokemon and the humans and hyvans."

Henry's jaw dropped as he glanced at Jove, and back at the creature he recognised to be a medicham.

"That's right" it responded to the seemingly inaudible question that Henry had asked in his mind. There was a short silence before the medicham spoke again, "Well, some of us do, but it's not always necessary."

Jove was completely oblivious to the questions Henry was asking, but shook it off, knowing Mandi's habit of reading thoughts before awaiting the spoken question. "Henry, are you hungry?"

It was a few seconds before Henry snapped out of his stupor, only to turn around and comment on how the medicham knew his name.

"Are. You. Hungry?!" Jove asked impatiently.

"No..."

"Mandi..." Jove began, pausing for a moment to think before continuing, "get the boy a bowl of fried rice with chicken. Keep the skin. I want, uh... just bring me the same. Aaand... bring a couple of beers to."

Oh swell, Henry thought. Henry buried his head in his arms. What was he going to do now? Force him to eat? Jove's attention was diverted from Henry as he began to catch up with someone sitting further down. The Mandi the medicham placed the bowl in front of Henry and looked at him sympathetically. "It won't be wasted if you don't eat it" he assured. Henry fiddled with the chopsticks for a while before asking if Mandi had a fork. Mandi shook his head and continued to serve other customers.

"Here. Drink up. It'll help ya' sleep." Jove spared Henry some of his attention just long enough to hand him one of the bottles of beer he had asked for.

Henry's oldest brother Richard had, from time to time, let him drink some milder beers, never more than the content of a small tumbler. Still he was hardly legal to drink at only sixteen. He sipped sparingly on the fizzy, strangely savoury-tasting liquid. It was about all he could stomach - the food only made him feel nauseous. As the night progressed Henry's pain began to subside and rather than being overcome with pain and exhaustion, he was just plain bored. Of course it was obvious to him that Jove really couldn't be bothered watching him and had just dragged him out in order to be able to amuse himself at the same time. Occasionally he would turn around to Henry to hand him a fresh beer, but they were just going to waste.

A thundering roar caused Henry to jolt up from his sleepy boredom and look around frantically. To his left Jove had one of his so-called friends by the scruff of the collar and had dragged him away from the bar. The boy was clearly younger and smaller than Jove. A lot less muscle and a bit more hair.

"I dare ya'..." Jove swayed slightly. "I darye ya' ta say that again!"

The boy being held by Jove daringly spat in his face and laughed.

Jove thrust both of his arms forward into the boy's face with astounding force, causing him to fly backwards. He looked as though he was going to tumble painfully onto his back, but the boy surprisingly succeeded in keeping himself on his feet, planting them onto the grass and skidding to a halt, leaving skid marks and torn up turf on the grass in his wake. He made sure that he was still steady before laughing and pointing at Jove as though it was all a big joke. Jove wiped the spit from his face with his palm and prepared for battle, taking a stance.

By this point Henry was looking on with great interest, drinking up and scooping food with his hand, having abandoned the chopsticks. Just then from the corner of Henry's eye leapt Mandi straight between the two combatants. His thick, rounded hind legs gave him plenty of spring and suspension, making it look as though he was landing from flight rather than from a jump.

"Not here!" Mandi warned.

"Out of my way, Mandi!" Jove hollered. "This isn't your fight!"

"But this is my business and I won't see you scare away my customers."

"Tch!" Jove pointed behind Mandi. "Look he's getting away!"

"Good."

Jove stormed past Mandi, only to have Mandi step in front of him. On impulse Jove took a swing for Mandi's face. Mandi gracefully and effortlessly steered out of the way, moving his body through the air as if he was suspended in water, round until he was almost behind Jove - all in a mere split second -before delivering a precise and powerful elbow to the middle of Jove's back. Even from where Henry was sitting the pop and crack could be heard from the impact. Henry continued to shovel rice into his mouth as though it were popcorn.

When it seemed Jove had received a lethal blow by human standards he disappeared into thin air. Mandi looked around as fast as he could trying to locate Jove. Jove reappeared... and reappeared again, and again, until there were four, flickering Joves surrounding Mandi.

"Double team won't help you..." Mandi warned calmly before leaping back, flipping in the air, and bringing his foot down upon one of the clones - only to have it wisp away like smoke.

The real Jove sprung forward hastily, swinging his fists at Mandi, one after the other. With each swing Mandi leisurely shifted his position out of the way, or let the punches roll off his body as though they were nothing but gentle strokes. When Mandi decided he had had enough of Jove wasting of his energy, he used his springing legs to kick him in the face. Blood and saliva sprayed into the air as Jove's head was thrown back and his punches ceased. He staggered backwards clutching his mouth and nose.

Henry had gotten off his seat to get a better view of the fight that had progressed away from the eating area. Despite Mandi's efforts to keep Jove's distance from his business, only Jove's rowdy pals remained, cheering him on. Everyone else had slunk out of the way to safety.

Jove shook his head a little, spraying a bit of blood to either side of him, before resuming his focus. The blood streamed down from his nose into and past his mouth, causing him to need to spit.

"I suggest you stop now" Mandy said, not really holding out much hope that Jove was open to reason. His intimidate ability was having no effect on Mandi who kept calm and cool.

Jove dived forward again. He seemed to split into two or three clones erratically as he did so in an attempt to confuse Mandi, before coming at him from both sides to kick him in a pincer attack. Jove's clones swung their foot out towards Mandi, but only ended up kicking each other as Mandi leapt out of the way faster than the eye could follow. The real Jove struck through his clone making it disappear. He made a quick 180 degree turn, anticipating Mandi's attack from behind, but being met with no such attack. He was only given a split second to realise that Mandi had him sussed out. In that split second Mandi managed to strike the very base of Joves neck with his fist, sending him flying forward onto his face on the grass.

Henry was shaking with anticipation, knowing just how strong Jove was and seeing him being thrashed so easily. To the corner of his eye he could see three figures coming over the grassy mound. The buy barely older than Henry who had provoked Jove kept turning round and pointing at him as he approached with his older friend and someone else. As they neared Henry realised that someone else was Jove's father, Neil.

Henry looked down at the empty bottle in his hand and back up at Neil, panicking suddenly at how he might respond to Henry even being in the presence of drinking and fighting activities. At that moment he dropped the bottle and scurried behind the bar, before poking his head out to see what was going to happen.

Neil strolled up to his son who lay motionless on the grass. Words were exchanged between Mandi and Neil who nodded with an understanding expression on his face. He picked up the lifeless Jove by the arm, trying to bring him round, before giving up and dropping him back onto the grass, giving him a soft kick to convey his displeasure of his son's activities.

Henry scurried off on all fours until he was well out of the light and in the shadows, making his way down the dark path. Unlike the streets of his home there was no lighting. Henry couldn't see his hands in front of him it was so dark. His fingers tingled and sometimes, when he thought he was walking straight, he was actually swerving off to the side - into an invisible thorny bush or a tree.

Cradled by the buttress roots of a large tree, Henry felt too comfortable and tired to get up. Closing his eyes he was left with the sensation of floating and spinning and amusing tales to tell Clarissa the next time he should enter the dream world.


---



Being a "pidgey" was exciting!

Aside from the odd mishap from time to time, Gemma felt she could easily get used to this type of dream. Sure, she did have to engage in typical birdie business. Foraging for food wasn't too difficult. Most of her food was relatively still. She lived on berries, often clambering to the edges of branches and carefully balancing to reach the sweet ripe and attractively coloured fruits. She would sometimes watch the other pidgey feed on small and large bugs, but even in her pidgey form she found this idea repulsive. Her feathered ruffled at the very thought.

Other times she would have to attend to her grooming. Although the desire to tidy herself up came naturally, the actions themselves were not easy to master. Turned out that seemingly mindless action that she had watched the city pigeons engage in was actually more of a skilled art. When her feathers became tattered and split her favourite activity - flying - became much more difficult. Steering became more unpredictable, for example. As a result she would need to fix them.

At first the grooming seemed ineffective. But over time, with persistence and patience, she learned that it took a special technique. In order to mend the split feathers she had to pass them through her beak at a particular angle. Any feathers that couldn't be mended in this way or that were loose and limp needed to be plucked out and discarded. There were different types of feathers, each one requiring their own particular method of treatment.

Finally when she was done, she would feel lighter and more streamlined in the air and often looped and dived for the sheer fun of it all. Already she had visited a large expanse of beautiful warm deciduous forest, passing further North into cooler mixed coniferous and deciduous forest on higher ground. Here the ground was less flat and there were more rivers and valleys resulting in breathtaking green tree-covered hills from the air.

The most common pokemon encounter she had were other pidgeys, but spearow would also accompany the pidgeys when hunting for bugs to eat. Gemma always preferred to steer well clear of the spearows, feeling no need to compete with them for bug prey and preferring the protein found in seeds. The huge hooked beaks of the spearows seemed disproportionately massive in comparison to their scruffy brown heads and tiny black and pink bodies - and in comparison to the bodies of her fellow pidgey. It didn't seem worthwhile to get in their way.

The thing Gemma really loved about these dreams - there weren't any scary monsters, no big birds of prey to pick on her, no wolves or foxes to sneak up on her as she foraged on the ground, at least, from what she had seen so far. What had happened upon her initial arrival she didn't know and as she became more conscious of herself, the more she wanted to shove it to the back of her mind. That threat - whatever it was - was now over and she thought it would be best not to get too stressed over it.

But she couldn't stop thinking about Peter. What did he want? What was he asking for? What was this threat he was talking about? The thought burdened her enough that she found her migration path matching that of Peter's travels. Just watching from afar every so often, seeing what he was up to. He had already captured a small and unfortunate purple four-legged creature with large ears and horns in a small ball-shaped device. Although small and stumpy, the lagomorph-like creature was spiny and muscular, a formidable danger. However, Peter hadn’t even needed to approach it to be able to capture it. All he had to do was throw a ball at it and let the contraption do the rest of the work of compressing the creature to a fraction of its original size.

Gemma wondered if that’s what had happened to her those couple of nights ago. The desire to approach Peter and just ask was conflicting with her desire for freedom, and any attempt to speak came out as mere garbled pigeon coos. There would be no harm, she thought, in biding her time to see how things unravelled.
 
Ch 6

Everyone dies. The end.















Kidding.


Ch 6

Henry woke up to the world spinning. He should have predicted this. All effects from the dream world passed through to the real world. It was getting to the stage where the dream world seemed far more real than the real world. Reality was starting to feel empty and dreamy like a characateur of its former self. Or maybe it was last night’s alcohol talking.

Peter, meanwhile, was not as naive about the pokemon world as he once was. No longer did he convey his excitement like a small child on a sugar high. His behaviour had become far more reserved. Now he was quieter. He listened more. He thought more before he spoke. Even in front of his mother he always wore a constant look on his face like he was scheming. His eyes would dart around in front of his face reading the invisible strategies he was setting out before himself. Then, when things seemed a bit too quiet, he would deliberately give a little indication that he was still himself. The odd guffaw at something funny on the television, or another one of his crude jokes.

As the many days passed, Henry and Peter became more distant at home. Henry had asked how Peter’s pokemon training was going at one point and Peter had responded only with dissatisfaction at having captured the wrong types. Of curse Peter would be just as curious to know what Henry was doing and why. With each prying question Henry’s answers became more and more vague and more and more on the verge of lies.

“Who’s training you? Why?” Peter seemed to use these exact words quite a lot.

“Um... we don’t train pokemon where I ended up. We just fight ourselves.” Henry's response was often accompanied with an avoidant expression as his eyes darted around looking for a distraction.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah but I asked you who was training you.”

“Just some locals that felt sorry for me.”

Eventually Peter would grow bored and irritated and give up asking. It all seemed too strange and silly to him. If humans are so much weaker than pokemon (and they were, from his own experience training mere low-level pokemon) why would they even bother trying to train themselves? Why not just carry a gun? Or why not just train prokemon to protect themselves, and from what danger? While the thought of Henry even trying to fight was mildly amusing, it was more unbelievable. When the questions about hyvans came along, Henry was even more avoidant, claiming he had heard of no such thing in the part of the pokemon world he found himself in. Possible, Peter thought, as Kanto seemed to have been rid of them for a long time. But it still didn’t completely add up.

Henry knew he was in the more awkward situation of the two of them. He couldn’t tell his brother anything. On top of that his harsh treatment by his trainer and his anxieties were making him weak of spirit, causing him to fall into temptations. Also, he shared a class with the only other person he knew of who was having these experiences besides his brother, and she had been very strange towards him lately. Always glancing at him almost sympathetically, but never speaking to him.

Over time, Gemma started coming round to the apartment. Not to see Henry, though. Peter seemed to be her new best buddy. But as the weeks progressed, she was more comfortable talking to Henry again. One evening she and Peter knocked on Henry’s door as he tried to focus on his homework. Gone were the times when he’d rather play pokemon than do his homework. In fact he had thrown out his game cartages just not long after the incidences started to occur.

“Yeah...?” Henry asked, still writing.

Gemma peeked her head through the door, stray hairs from her ponytail draping over her face, and her large brown eyes glinting with anticipation at revealing the news she had. Henry had not even looked up to see who was there.

From Gamma's perspective it was starting to become very obvious that Henry was frequenting a warm climate. His hair had gone from being a strawberry blond to being lighter than his skin, which had turned a darker golden tan compared with the pasty pink it once was. More noticeably, his shape had changed. No longer could anyone make fun of him for being too skinny. Not only had he developed a layer of thicker fat beneath his skin, but he had also become more toned in muscle. Gemma knew he was being talked about in school because of this, but she refrained from mentioning it to Henry to spare his feelings.

“Come in...” Henry still didn’t look up.

As Gemma and Peter both entered Henry’s room, Gemma spoke up before even sitting down.

“I think your brother’s a bit worried about you.” Gemma mentioned, trying to break the ice.

“I’m fine.” Henry looked up for a moment before resuming his work.

“Yeah, right. Dude, you never talk to anyone any more!” Peter piped up, making himself at home and reclining on Henry’s bed.

“Okay.” Henry dropped his pen on his desk and swivelled around in his chair. “Let’s talk.”

“See, Peter? He’s okay.” Gemma assured. “I think you’ve just been busy, right? All that homework, it‘s such a drag.”

“Right.” Henry folded his arms defensively. Peter did the same, rolling his eyes as he did so.

“Peter and I have decided...” Gemma began, looking round to Peter to make sure it would be okay to mention. “... that we’re going to team up.”

“Cool...” While the sentiment was there, the enthusiasm was not. Henry didn’t exactly have to be told what this could lead to.

“Peter says that if he trains me in the dream world, I’ll be able to grow big enough to carry him on my back. That sounds really weird, and a lot of hard work, but it means I’ll be able to help him come and find you.”

“You do know the dangers, right?” Henry asked, tension showing in his face.

“Oh, yeah, he told me about how tough the training can be. But it sounds to me like a good cause. We did lots of reading and research in the dream world.”

Peter studied the expression on Henry’s face. He could see Henry’s face turning paler. Even if he managed to suppress the fear in his eyes, he couldn’t hide it entirely.

“Have you seen the news lately? In Kanto, hyvans are spreading. There’s been more attacks, particularly at the gyms” Gemma said with concern, “It’s getting dangerous now.”

At that moment Henry knew he couldn’t risk confiding in Gemma about his situation. He gulped in an attempt to wet his dry throat.

“What’s the matter, Henry?” Peter leaned forward, sitting himself upright. “I thought you didn’t have to worry about hyvans.” Peter’s eyes stared deep into Henry’s as though he were trying to see into his soul.

Henry chose to remain silent.

“It’s funny...” Peter began, glancing at Gemma, “... how one of us turned out to be a pokemon. Isn’t that strange?”

Gemma glanced back and giggled, but seeing the seriousness in Peter’s expression her smile dissolved from her face.

“Heck, we were lucky. We could have appeared as a fish, or an ant, or even a dirty hyvan...”

Gemma glanced back and forth between the brothers, unsure whether Peter was being serious or just having one of his weird moments.

"You know, I was thinking lately... after Gemma told me about how she had always dreamed of flying." Peter got up off the bed and started pacing casually.

Gemma frowned slightly, not sure whether to be annoyed by being talked about in her presence in the third person narrative. Meanwhile Henry gripped the arm rests of his desk chair in order to channel and quell his anxious shaking.

"... And get this I always wanted to be a pokemon trainer. No matter how stupid and babyish the idea was and how much I told myself it wouldn't happen, it was still my dream." Peter stopped pacing and looked at Henry. "So what was your dream, huh? To keep secrets from us? To be away from us? Or did you just want to be unique and 'special'?"

Henry didn't respond. He just stared as though he knew what was coming and he couldn't stop it.

"You know, Gemma, you were half-right that time you called us freaks. I even wonder if hyvans came entirely from your mind, Henry." For a brief moment Peter's tone switched to joking as he said, "Hey, maybe you even are one!"

"Now, wait a minute Peter!" Gemma shouted in shock, "what's gotten into you? Why are you being so scary?"

"Sorry, Gemma" Peter began, "but I think it needs to be said. They didn't come from my mind and I'm sure they didn't come from yours either."

"You're being hysterical" Henry said, sitting motionless in his chair, his shoulders tense with apprehension. "They didn't come from me."

"Please, you two. Peter, didn't you stop to think that maybe NONE of this is coming from any of us?" Gemma stepped in in Henry's defence. "For all we know this could be some kind of weird secret government experiment."

Peter's words had been like stabbing knives to Henry, prodding at his mind. While at first he confidently denied that the hyvans had originated from his own imagination, his thughts began to wander on to reasons why the hyvans could have been his own doing. After all, it was his role in the dream world out of the three dreamers. The pokemon, the trainer and the hyvan. The dreamer of flying turned into a flying pokemon. The dreamer of being a pokemon trainer became exactly that. Henry hadn't ever thought about his own worldly hopes and desires. He didn't really have any. Sloughing through life was all Henry really had to look forward to and he was quite happy with that... wasn't he? No real ambitions - not even fantasy ones, just the typical, get good grades, get a job. The pokemon games were merely a time-killer as he got older, and he didn't really miss them either. So what did the hyvans have to do with this? A hybrid of fantasy and reality, perhaps? The more he thought about it, the more angry he felt, unwilling to admit that he was the cause of the hyvans.

Most importantly, what Peter said had stuck with him enough to delay his sleep that night. No longer did Henry feel safe around his older brother.


---


"I absolutely cannot allow you to pass, I'm sorry!"

The officer was adamant. Peter had to sigh in defeat. Gemma sat on his shoulder with a similar, defeated look on her feathered face.

"There is an alternative route, if you need..." the officer began, but she was just waved off by Peter who began to trudge back down the rocky path. As a trainer he wanted to explore all habitats. To miss Mt.Moon's caverns was to miss a whole chunk of his journey, or so he thought. And this was all apparently because of those hyvans hiding out in the mountains.

"Maybe..." Gemma gargled, not quite fully in control of her new vocal chords, "... better to go the other way."

"I have a better idea."

Peter walked further down the path until he was well out of sight. The path was lined with steep, rocky walls. It was so steep and so rocky that only the hardiest vegetation draped over the ledges and cracks. It did, however look dry and possible to climb with some effort, but the vertical face loomed so far forward that it looked impossible to climb back down from the top. It was a one-way route.

"Gemma..." Peter turned his head slightly to the side, still keeping his eyes on the cliff.

Gemma chirped in response.

"Could you fly up there and see what's over the top?"

"You're not thinking about..." Gemma trailed off into silence, her beak ajar at the sight of how high the cliff was. Okay, it was only thirty-or-so feet high, but without a harness or any safety equipment, even Gemma's feathers ruffled at the thought if trying to scale it.

"Please?" Peter whined with a grin breaking through.

"I guess there's no harm in just having a peek." Gemma jumped off Peter's shoulder and took off, flapping her wings vigorously and fanning her tail to gain height quickly. Peter watched as she disappeared over the top of the cliff. He didn't wait long - quicker than he expected Gemma fluttered back over the cliff edge and back down towards Peter, before resting herself on his shoulder and folding her wings back.

"So...?" Peter asked, "What did you see?"

"Well, there was a lot of plants... lots of rocks... hm, and that mountain too."

"You could see the mountain?"

"Yeah."

It made sense, of course. The only reason why they couldn't see Mt. Moon just now was because they were so close to the cliff.

"What about a way in?

"No, not really. Lots of pot-holes but..."

Before Gemma could finish her sentence Peter made a dash for the cliff wall, finding a handle and footing amongst the cracks and narrow ledges before beginning to scale the cliff. Gemma hopped off his shoulder and hovered around his head frantically.

"Oh god let's just go the other way!" She gave a bird-like screech.

"C'mon, Gemma, it'll be an adventure!" Peter chuckled.

"You'll slip and fall and DIE!" Gemma squawked.

"Hahaha!" Peter laughed as though Gemma was joking.

Gemma fluttered around Peter anxiously for a while before she realised that he was doing quite well at keeping a secure footing and grip on the rocks. Actually, Peter made it look easy to climb, systematically placing one hand and one foot in front of the other, legs and arms splayed, making him look like a spinarak adhering to a wall. When he reached the top he effortlessly heaved himself over the edge and onto the flat surface above before looking back to admire his effort.

"Heh. Always wanted to do that." He wiped his hands against each other until the crumbs of rock were dusted off.

"You took lessons?" Gemma asked curiously, perched on the cliff edge and looking down at the rocky path below.

"Nah, wish I had..." Peter trailed off as he looked around the landscape before them. Right enough, the bulk of the mountainside was fully visible, with the peak once again just hidden over the nearest craggy mound. Most of the plants were hardy, short-lived and low-lying scrub plants - small shrubs and yellow grasses - as well as a carpet of scree, jagged stones and pebbles of varying sizes. As Peter took a few first steps the ground crunched beneath his shoes.

Against the mound Peter appeared from the air as a mere dot. Gemma fluttered about in the cold wind, trying to find a way they could both get inside the mountain. She gave a cry as she descended upon a hole in the ground where the scree was falling in, with Peter following. Fortunately it was large enough for Peter to clamber his way in, using his climbing skills once again to make sure he didn't fall down the pitch black hole but descended carefully and safely. His nerves were making him slightly shaky as he grasped the sharp, jutting rocks, but of course he didn't want to admit to this.

At the bottom of the hole Peter's eyes began to adjust to the lack of light. He could see ahead of himself chambers lit to varying degrees from beams of sunlight shining from holes from above, with stalactites and stalagmites pointing from the ceiling and the floor, giving the cavern the impression of having sharp jagged teeth. The damp, musky and slightly mouldy-smelling air made Gemma fluff up her feathers in discomfort. A squeak echoed off the walls, followed by the flutter of wings.

"That's what I'm looking for!" Peter whispered to Gemma, sitting on his shoulder. "You think that's zubat?"

"I don't know, I never played much pokemon as a kid."

"It's probably zubat" Peter confirmed to himself. "You ready for battle, Gems?"

"You want me to flush one out for you?" Gemma stretched her wings in preparation for a chase.

"You know that's not a bad idea." Peter pointed in the direction he had heard the zubat. "Go for it!"

Gemma leapt off Peter's shoulder and flew with vigour down the mouth of the cavern and disappeared around the corner. It was difficult to stay airborne without any perch or immediate target - the seemingly random columns and spears of rock coming out at her from the darkness as she approached them made manoeuvring difficult and dangerous. With no more signs of a zubat, Gemma was forced to land on a relatively level patch of ground for a rest. Her decorative breast mane puffed in and out with her breathing and her tiny heart pumped like a drum due to having nearly knocked herself out on one of the columns.

She cocked her head and then turned in quick snapping motions, causing her head crest to bobble. She could hear something but it was hard to determine the source of the sound. Looking behind she saw Peter peeking round the corner, giving her a shrug gesture.

"Wait here" Gemma whispered, before waddling over in the direction of the sound. What she was hearing was only an echo of an echo, so it was too distorted to tell what it was. She took off into the air again, her wings making their characteristic whizzing noise, and disappeared into the darkness.

Peter tried to follow her but found himself unable to get past the barrier of stalagmites carpeting the floor like death spikes from some Indiana Jones movie. With every attempt to step around them he found himself in a very delicate position, unable to proceed without spiking himself. Taking a pokeball out of his pocket and dropping it on the floor, Peter watched as a glowing smoke swirled out of it and collected into a shining form. The form dulled, making itself solid and fleshy. If it were bright enough to see, the creature’s front shell would have born an indented streak diagonally across its shield area, a remnant from a battle over a month ago. The little turtle pokemon immediately looked up at his trainer and raised its tiny hands, overjoyed at the thought of becoming useful again.

“How’s it going little buddy?” Peter asked affectionately, kneeling down to check Squirtle was okay.

The turtle pokemon quietly nodded, eyes wandering over the strange rock features in the cave.

“I can’t get in here, can you go and protect your team mate?” Peter pointed into the darkness. “She disappeared in there. Call her back if you can, I didn’t tell her to go in there. She's a pidgey, by the way.”

Squirtle raised an eye before looking at the ground and shaking his head. He suspected during all that time he was out of action that Peter had probably trained a different pokemon to too high a level - and now he had a pokemon that wouldn‘t obey him. Despite being a very low level himself, Squirtle did know how the pokemon league badges worked.

Being entirely hand-reared by humans, Squirtle knew his place, irrelevant of how many badges his trainer had. He obediently nodded his head to confirm he was going to do as he was asked and squeezed past the stalagmites. He stopped a moment to listen for a distant echo, before continuing into the darkness.

The stalagmites thinned and Squirtle found himself wandering up a narrow tunnel. It was cold. Squirtle didn't like the cold. Although it was mild by human terms, for a cold-blooded reptile it was enough to considerably slow him down. His movements became more exaggerated and sluggish before he reached the end of the tunnel and was met with a warm gust of air and the flicker of fire light illuminating the room ahead.

There she was - the pidgey he was looking for sitting on a ledge, overlooking a large cavern and listening quietly to the voices. She didn't acknowledge Squirtle's presence until he wandered up close. Rather than tell her to return to Peter, Squirtle joined her in listening to the children's voices below.

Squirtle turned to the pidgey who he had only met once before. Gemma turned to Squirtle as though she knew he was there. Her beady avian eyes failed to express her innermost feelings, and she wasn't sure if she would be able to communicate with another pokemon. At least amongst her flocks of fellow pidgeys she had gained a subtle hint of the meanings of their coos, but only on a very crude and basic level.

"Squirt..." Squirtle whispered, trying to prevent his voice from echoing audibly.

Gemma wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to say, but she could tell he was a bit anxious to return back.

"We can't just leave them... they're hostages."

Squirtle's jaw dropped. Gemma assumed that it was because she was speaking the same way that humans do, but Squrtle seemed more interested in the children below. The boy and girl were geared up in similar red and white pokemon league jackets, bearing the pokeball emblem and their faces hidden beneath baseball-style caps. The girl shivered in a thin skirt, trying to warm her bare legs near the fire. The boy sat further from the flames, rolling a pebble between his fingers. The sat in the only sun beam breaking through from the tiny hole in the ceiling, the only escape for the smoke and the only access to the outside world.

Gemma took flight and darted through the narrow tunnel, leaving Squirtle fumbling behind her in the dark. By time Squirtle had caught up Gemma had already finished explaining the situation to Peter. Hostages? What hostages? Why hostages? Before Squirtle could gather his thoughts together, Peter called him to follow, making his way down an alternative tunnel and hoping it would lead them to somewhere useful.

Unable to see in the dark, Squirtle bumped into the back of Peter's leg, unaware he had stopped walking. Was this the end of the tunnel, he thought?

"They talked about a ransom..." Gemma whispered, "those poor kids are so scared."

"It must be why the cops blocked the caves off" Peter whispered back, taking a few creeping steps further forward in order to better view the sliver of light up ahead.

"We should tell the police where they are. We shouldn't be here!" Gemma almost shouted, her raised whisper was heard bouncing off the tunnel walls.

Peter gave a warning hush and continued to set out the plans, ignoring Gemma's warning. "They can't be very tough if they're kidnapping little kids. Hey, you've got a flying move now, Gems."

"Why does that not make me feel any better?"

"Aww... come on Gems put two and two together! Hyvans hiding out in the caves, kids imprisoned, talking about a ransom... If we're to be a hyvan-slaying team, we need to get our hands dirty!"

"Like that time against Brock's Geodude? Mud slap doesn't affect birds... my ASS it doesn't!"

"Okay things maybe aren't as clear cut as they are in the games but I need to know you're going to be on our side when we need you. You can't back out when we're in a pinch." Peter didn't realise that he wasn't heeding his own warning on loudness.

Gemma made a cooing sigh and whispered quietly, "You know I wouldn't do that."

"Well this is one of those times. We're a team or we aren't, no in-between. You down?"

Gemma knew there was no arguing with Peter, but the fear shook her to her very core. She had battled and trained for the past month or so, but they were very organised battles, set up in such a way as to minimise injury to both combatants and make the battle as fair as possible. She remembered being declared as 'fainted' against Brock's Geodude long before she was even close to actually fainting, only because league battles didn't go that far. That's how gentle these battles were. But this was something different entirely. This was meddling in the affairs of dangerous criminals. Criminals that might have guns, or might harm the hostages should they dare try to step in. Gemma couldn't bear living the rest of her life with that on her conscience. If she got out alive at all.

"I can easily go fly out and alert the police, I remember exactly where we are, we don't need to go in there-"

"Gemma..." Peter growled through clenched teeth, before realising he was being a bit too harsh. "Think of it as part of your training. You should get used to this."

Peter interrupted himself when he stopped to listen for any noise before sneaking towards the light ahead. His heart leapt when he noticed a shadow cross it, causing him to freeze on the spot. There was someone there, taunting him to dare approach closer. He could see the glint of an eye - could they see him hidden in the shadows?

A deafening bark caused Peter, Gemma and Squirtle all three to jump on the spot. The explosion of snarling and snapping travelled through the tunnels like a shock wave, reverberating back and forth between walls. With each bark the gleam of sharp, white, saliva-drenched teeth sent chilling messages to the trio - stay back, or else.

"I think we'd better go" Peter stated with a wobble in his voice as he staggered back. Before he had a chance to turn around and flee, the scamper of clawed feet on hard floor was already approaching. In a mere second Peter heard a brief snarl and then the whizzing flurry of feathered wings next to his head - then the sound of his own chilling scream as pain shot up his entire left arm, as though his very nerves were attacking him. Without time for composure, he was helpless to regain his arm from the toothed, vice-like clamp that dragged him to the ground like a rag doll.

Meanwhile Gemma fluttered around in panic as a disorganized ball of feathers, flying head first into a wall and falling into a flapping heap in a corner. The only release for Peter from the dog's blood-soaked jaws was a powerful, almost skin-shredding jet of water, sending the dog garbling backwards in the face of the jet. Steam billowed from its body as it tried to bite and snap at the force of the water, before retreating back into the tunnel whining with the wisps of steam dissipating behind its stump of a tail.

Peter curled onto his side, shakily whimpering (or was he laughing? Squirtle couldn't tell), trying to cradle his mauled arm, but finding himself unable to dare to touch it. The mangled mess of ripped and torn flesh gushed with the warm, sticky life fluid that Peter needed to stay alive. Although unharmed, Peter's upper arm and elbow burned with overwhelming agony. His lower arm, however, was already going numb. Squirtle approached with his mouth ajar, before bending down and reaching out.

"Don't touch it!" Peter cried, before trying to shift somewhat to see if he could get up. About all that he could manage was a slight twitch before setting himself off crying.

Squirtle turned his head to see two silhouettes with their arms folded standing before the light from the tunnel ahead. One had long, red hair, the colour coming through from the light from the tunnel behind. It was made invisible once again by the glare of a flashlight beam illuminating the scene. In the spotlight the real extent of the damage left Peter in a state of silent shock, staring pale-faced at the oozing wounds. His chin doubled as he backed his head away from the wound, unable to comfortably look at it but at the same time frozen in a petrified stare. As far as the wrist it had chopped and shredded by knife-sharp teeth, deep incisions had cut as far as the bone. It overflowed with dark-red, glistening blood that pooled on the ground by Sqirtle's feet.

"How'd he get in?" The woman's voice was breathy, as though she had sighed the words.

"You go back, I'll deal with it." The male was a mere shadow behind the glare of the flashlight, and he didn't relent in shining it straight at Peter and his Squirtle's eyes. "Who sent you? The police?"

The stranger's words washed over Peter unnoticed. He tried to turn away from everything that was going on, but he couldn't escape the pain. Even Squirtle's warnings to the stranger were becoming a distant echo as Peter became increasingly unable to fight off the feeling that he was falling very fast. As subconscious panic set in he began to whimper. His thoughts raced with thoughts of regret and self-inflicted attacks on his stupidity, but from the outside he was sluggishly and quietly fading out. He closed his eyes and began to wish, wish and wish with all his heart that he would wake up at home, safe and free of the searing hot pain... but the reality was unforgiving.

The stranger lifted the rim of his fedora hat and shone a beam of light, moving it around the different shadowed areas, before shining it back down at Peter and reaching his right hand into his waste-coat. Squirtle looked on with wide, glazed eyes, moving in front of Peter to keep himself somewhat in the stranger's way.

A sudden gust of wind blew the stranger's hat down the tunnel, along with grains of rock and sand tinkling against the walls. The wind didn't relent, continuing to rip and tear with immense force, causing the man to stumble over and grab hold of a rock. His dark hair and waist-coat whipped in the wind, and the flying gravel and dust grains forced him to shield his eyes. Then it stopped. Dead.

His previously neatly combed back hair now hung over as a tattered mess in front of his eyes, but he looked straight through them for the source of the wind. Snapping his head in all directions he pulled out a small hand gun and held it out at arm's length. Another explosive gust of wind from behind set off an involuntary fire, followed by the man tumbling around helplessly as though he weighted no more than a piece of paper. The bullet couldn't be heard bouncing off the walls for the deafening roaring and whistling of the wind forcing its way past and through the tunnels and columns of rock. The wind ceased at almost the exact moment the man's head cracked audibly against the wall. He flopped lifelessly onto the ground onto his back with a small dribble of blood seeping from the gash and newly forming bruise on his eyebrow.

Breaking the silence was the brief whizzing of feathered wings as the tiny Gemma made a landing in the middle of the floor. She waddled straight towards Peter, who was shakily shielding his eyes with his healthy arm.

"Use a potion!" Gemma cried out.

"Squirtle squirtaal...?" Squirtle cocked his head, eyes squinting in confusion.

"It's worth a try, you never know! If it works on pokemon it might work on people too...? Hurry!"

Squirtle began to fumble in Peter's pockets, before bringing out a very small, purple spray bottle. Even though he was having his pockets rummaged, Peter only kept his head shielded and his eyes closed as he rested, unable (and unwilling) to keep himself fully conscious at the sight of so much of his own blood. His mouth quivered each time he felt he was going to vomit, which was every few seconds or so.

"Squirt..." Squirtle panicked, needlessly fumbling with the spray potion in his stubby little fingers before aiming it at the wound the best he could in the absence of any flashlight. It was nearly impossible to see what was happening to the wound as the spray was being applied. Squirtle shook the container after it gave its last few spluttered squirts. Empty. Just at that moment Peter's fingers began to twitch.

"Huh... I can feel my hand again" Peter grumbled before trying to force himself upright in a sitting position. He kept his arm elevated and immobile as he did so, still wincing at the slightest movement or brush up against his clothing. For a moment Peter's eyes remained averted, but it wasn't long before the temptation to look got the better of him.

"Hey..." Peter exclaimed, "It's working!" Peter flexed his fingers. The torn tissue on his arm was pinching together and the blood was hardening and darkening, forming a protective layer over the healing bite wounds.

"Try another one!" Gemma flapped in excitement.

"Don't have any more..." Peter swayed, feeling a little faint and nauseous. "The hyvans, we need to defeat them!" Peter used his good arm to heave himself up onto his feet, only to find himself stumbling over from the resulting rush of the remaining blood away from his head.

"One down, one more to go!" Gemma began to flutter towards the tunnel ahead before Peter could say anything in response. Squirtle followed her, stopping for a moment to give Peter his thumbs up before toddling as fast as he could into battle.

"Wait for me!" Peter cried weakly, staggering to follow them.

----


"That's it!" Red glossy lips spoke calmly into the receiver. "You asked for it."

Holding a phone in one hand, the red-haired woman scornfully glared with her sharp blue eyes as she stood at the entrance to the cavern. The two hostages sat huddled together, the boy embracing the girl protectively, daring the woman to shoot them both.

"Stand apart!" The woman growled, waving her gun with a shaky hand.

The duo stayed together with the boy staring adamantly at the shaking weapon.

The woman thought for a moment before speaking into the receiver again, "If you don't agree to release Han immediately, both of these children will die together right here and now! I want to hear from my counterpart that Han has made it safely over the Kanto border!" The woman stopped a moment to listen. "Fifteen minutes." There was another silence. "If you can't do it in half an hour then..." She stopped to let the person on the other end speak. "That's good. Not a minute later, got that? Or else... Oh, and one more thing. The agent you sent - dead, along with his pokemon. Don't try things with us, we're prepared!" Although her voice was strong, there was a hint of fluctuation in her tone. She wasn't used to acting like this.

The sound of barking in the tunnel set the woman on the alert. "Houndour!" she exclaimed and lunged into the tunnel, shimmying to the side so that she had an eye on both directions.

Before Houndour stood Sqirtle and Gemma, hesitating slightly at the intimidating roaring and barking that was loud enough to cause dust and rocks to tumble from the ceiling. Houndour lowered his skull-shaped head plate as if to frown and pinned back his pointed black ears, preparing to attack.

"Bite that Squirtle before it gets a chance to attack!"

Houndour leapt forward as commanded, mouth prying open revealing large, muscular jaws lined with razor sharp teeth - only to be filled with an intense, cold spray of water. The blinding jet also tore at the dog's eyes causing it to abandon its assault and shake its head about madly, flinging saliva and water all around itself. Steam rose from around its face and jaws as its upper lip twitched, revealing sharp fangs underneath.

The woman raised her weapon towards the bird pokemon fluttering into her face, but her reflexes had failed her as a sudden gust of wind pulsated in shock waves from Gemma's wings. The woman's hair flew around her face as she tried to find something to hold on to. Her gun was ripped out of her hand from the force of the wind, tapping and tinkering away further up the tunnel and landing not far from the feet of the hostage children.

Squirtle took a deep breath to prepare for another water gun attack, only to have it squeezed out of him like a squeezy bath toy by the force of Houndour's sudden bite. The black, bone-armoured dog shook its head from side to side with Squirtle clamped between its jaws, before releasing him skidding and spinning across the tunnel floor. All that could be seen at rest was a shell - completely absent of a head, tail or limbs.

As Peter caught up he caught a glimpse of his Sqirtle's shell and the approaching Houndour. Thinking it would be a good idea to distract the Houndour from his Squirtle's moment of vulnerability, Peter threw a rock behind Houndour. Although the rock knocked off the wall behind the Houndour, the pup was a lot sharper that Peter expected it to be, staring directly at him, and not at where the rock had landed.

Gemma was too distracted to help, sweeping by the distressed and helpless woman with gust after gust, keeping the woman at bay and unable to attack, blinded by her own hair and the rain of swirling dust and feathers.

Almost simultaneously the tunnel was brightly illuminated, causing Peter and the two children to shield their eyes instinctively, while still trying to see what was happening. Houndour barked and snarled at one of the light sources - Squirtle's glowing shell. The shell began to swell in size, at least doubling in mass, before the room dimmed again.

The tunnel appeared darker than before, but soon the tiny lantern in the corner could be seen again amongst the colourful blotches burned into everyone's retina from the recent glowing light - but the flame had barely survived Gemma's gusts and gave off a weak, blue glow. The tunnel had fallen silent all of a sudden, save for the murmurs of the children further back near the cavern. As the flame from the lantern grew back in strength the room regained its orange illumination. Before Peter stood a new pokemon, just like his teal-blue Squirtle but a much darker blue, closer to indigo. It had fluffy, pointed ears and a long, thick, plush tail. On the front of its now larger body was the same fused cut that it had sustained in its previous form, stretching from shoulder to above the thigh. It looked around at Peter grinning from its fanged beak.

Ahead the woman lay on her front, her hair all over her face. On top of her was a rather fat looking bird sitting with its feathers puffed up fiercely. Its hooked beak looked as though it could rip chunks out of human flesh, but all it did was laugh in a parrot-like tone.

---


Peter sat smugly smirking on the bench, folding his arms as though to pretend that his right arm wasn’t encased in plaster. The clopping of footsteps approached from down the corridor until they reached Peter’s cell. The rattle of keys caught his attention.

The guard was accompanied by the female officer he had met weeks ago in Pewter city’s pokemon centre. Her glare could melt steel. As the cell door squeaked open she just stood there, glaring, before casually making her way inside.

“If it were up to me, we’d have you locked up for a long time” she began, “but it’s not up to me.”

“Yeah, that’s cops for ya. Always grateful.” Peter stood up as though to leave, but was stopped when the woman stood in his way and stared deeply into his eyes. Her own wide teal green eyes made Peter feel a little edgy.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’ve got my eye on you” she quietly warned, “and I don’t want to see any more of your supposed heroics when there are lives at stake.”

Peter barely looked at her as he left the cell, not wanting to let her rain on his parade any longer. It was sunset. It was time to settle down after a long day. After picking up his belongings he made his way towards the nearest Cerulean pokemon centre, before releasing his pokemon from their pokeballs outside the building. The parking lot looked over the sea and distant mountains, where the sun was making its descent and casting a dim orange light on the darkening landscape.

From them emerged the Wartortle, Squirtle in his newest form. He looked around for a moment, unsure of here he was, before grinning with his usual enthusiasm. Gemma on the other hand went straight to inspecting her new body, stretching out her longer more elegant wings and preening her new feathers.

“Not so much drab any more!” She exclaimed in a deeper, more grainy voice. “I like the pink and yellow tail! It’s cute!”

Peter refrained from joking that her black eye markings made her look like a bandit.

“You’re a Pigeotto now” Peter explained, unsure if Gemma knew or not.

“Is that what you call it. Pidgey, then Pidgeotto. But I’m still too small to carry you.” She cocked her head, her longer red head crest falling to the side as she did.

“You need to become a Pigeot for that. Still some way to go first.” Peter crossed his arms. “But you’re looking pretty good, Gems! That Houndour pissed itself about three times in a row when it saw you!” Peter laughed, earning a confused glare from his feathered companion.

“Wartort. Torttort, tortle.” Wartortle reached his arms up into the air.

“And you Squirt... I mean Wartortle.”

“Actually, he says he’s hungry.” Gemma informed.

“Oh! Heheheh!” Peter scratched his chin. “’Kay. We eat.”

“Listen...“ Gemma hopped closer. “What happened while we were detained? I don’t remember, I was in a pokeball the whole time...”

“Ah, it’s no big deal. Slap on the wrist, then sent us on our way.” Peter was already heading towards the pokemon centre with Wortortle in tow.

“You sure? They seemed pretty mad when they arrested you.”

Gemma’s statement went ignored as they entered the pokemon centre via the automatic sliding doors. Inside the centre was bustling with trainers and nurses alike, some resting, some at the front desk. There were a couple of trainers playing card games at one of the tables, and a perch with a pidgeotto standing guard. It eyed Peter up suspiciously, puffing up its feathers, before becoming distracted by Gemma and relaxing.

Peter went up to the desk to speak to the nurse assistant, leaving Wartortle and Gemma under the watchful eye of his fellow pokemon trainers.

“Y-you, I remember you!” A girl approached Gemma. “You’re the pidgeotto that can talk!”

“Yeah, I saw you two evolve! I’ve never seen a pokemon evolve before!” A boy joined in.

“You both saved our lives” the girl added.

Gemma chuckled with embarrassment. “Nah... it was all a fluke, really!” She turned her head modestly to hide her smile, not remembering that a bird can’t really smile visibly.

“Warrrrr-tortle!” Wartortle put his hands on his sides and beamed with pride, heightening his gaze up towards the ceiling.

The two children were dressed in matching clothing. They both had the same red and white pokemon league baseball caps, the same red and white pokemon league jackets, and the same pokemon league backpacks. About all that wasn’t the same was the bottom half of their dressings, with the young girl clearly favouring the feminine dress which contrasted drastically with her more masculine upper garment. Even her hairstyle, a messy cut brown mop, didn’t quite seem to match. Her companion seemed much more plain, and very typical of the dark-haired, dark-eyed male seen most commonly on the back cover of the early pokemon games outside the dream world.

“You... together?” Gemma asked, unsure of whether or not they were siblings or a couple.

“Yep. I’m Judy and this is my brother Lyle.” Judy turned round to Lyle, who gave a cheesy grin, bearing his teeth.

“Don’t you travel with your trainer?” Judy asked.

“He’s over there...” Gemma nodded in the direction of the reception.

“So is he really a hyvan slayer?” Lyle butted in.

“Who told you that?!” Gemma asked somewhat startled.

“He did... before the cop guy took him away.” Lyle pointed towards Peter. “I wanna be a hyvan-slayer too! I hate them! They’re so mean!”

“That’s... really dangerous though.” Gemma’s feathers became pointy at the idea of what could have happened in the caves. “That’s what the police are for. I told Peter that we shouldn‘t...”

“But the police didn’t save us, YOU did!” Judy exclaimed, drawing stares from some of the surrounding trainers. “If it weren’t for you, that hyvan lady was gonna kill us!” Judy’s excitement was getting the better of her as her eyes became watery.

Gemma couldn’t say anything. She was kind of right but at the same time, so, so wrong. Wartortle was lapping up the attention, getting chin scratches and praise from the two children. Gemma, however, needed air. She left the building on her own to sit quietly on the rooftop by herself, catching the last rays of sunshine from the horizon. The sea sparkled a fiery orange, reflecting the rich colour of the sky. It didn’t seem long before Lyle scampered outside, shouting Gemma’s name.

Gemma peered over the edge of the rooftop.

“Your trainer said we can go with you! We can fight against the hyvans together! My pokemon, you, Wartortle, Judy’s pokemon, all of us!”

Gemma’s heart sank. But what could she do?
 
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