GingerDixie
Hopes and Dreams
Hello there, Ginger here! Gonna go ahead and put this here as a reminder to keep my resolutions this year. And by resolutions, I mean actually writing stuff instead of sitting on it forever. Yeah. Totally not looking at those two chapter fics rotting in the back of my Drive, no sirree.
Anyway. Here's one of the short stories I wrote for Yuletide 2015! I will also be posting my pinch hit, so if you're into shipping fics, keep your eyes peeled in the Shippers section! I'm just not going to post that one right away because...haha, it's not really done. At least, not like I'd like it to be. (Sorry again, had a time flub!)
So, without further ado...here is The Sacrifice!
Rogan will never forget the first night he had encountered one of… them.
Honestly, he didn’t know what else to call it. Certainly it wasn’t a normal Pokemon. Normal Pokemon were tame, obedient, friendly...even if they were wild, they didn’t usually attack unprovoked; even if provoked, they were quite reluctant to hurt humans and usually just scared them away. And he should know, too. He was one of the few residents of Pyrite who actually owned a Pokemon (legally, at least), and his beloved Dart would have never acted the way this one did. Hell, it was Dart who ended up saving his life in the end of it…
It had been night time, and the bike courier was out on his evening rounds, his Linoone keeping pace with him as he delivered packages around the better parts of the city. While he knew in this particular area he was less likely to get jumped (which was a real danger here and was one of the main reasons he had paid most of his savings to have a Pokemon from Hoenn bred and sent to him to raise), he still allowed Dart out of his Pokeball to run beside him and stretch his legs while he completed delivieries. He had always seen Pokeballs as a necessity to rein in a rowdy Pokemon and not something to keep them inside of all the time, so it was only fair that if he got to be out and about, Dart would would get that opportunity. In hindsight, he now realized how complacent the two of them had gotten in their nightly routine...how everything had happened so quickly, the only way this even could have been prevented was if only the two of them had been more alert and aware.
Rogan had just dropped off his last letter for the evening when he had heard something scuffling around in a nearby alleyway, causing both Trainer and Pokemon to stop immediately in their tracks. Here in Pyrite Town, where the police were inefficient and many had to pay for an escort if they were too poor for a Pokemon, Rogan had every right to be assuming the worst as he got off his bike and walked with his Linoone towards the source of the sound, already scanning the area for escape routes when things went south. “Tread quietly,” was the only word he whispered to his Pokemon as the shadows of the buildings closed in around them, obscuring moonlight and making it quite difficult to see much of what was going on in the shadows. Holding his hand out, he gently eased closer to the noise of rustling cloth and papers, about ready to apprehend what seemed to be the dark figure of a mugger…
Only then, it turned around, and Rogan could clearly see that it was not a mugger, but a Pokemon. A seemingly ownerless one, at that.
The Sandslash stood there, its dark hide barely recognizable even during a starry night like this one. Its brown eyes reflected the silver of the moon, showcasing their size and the desert Pokemon’s status as nocturnal and a burrower...though the only burrowing that this one seemed to be doing was through the trash bags that had been haphazardly torn open and strewn about the dirty alleyway. It tugged at Rogan’s heartstrings a bit, seeing this creature here that was obviously lost and hungry, and being the altruistic person that he was, immediately relaxed his stance a bit and knelt down to the Pokemon’s level.
“Hey there, little buddy...whatcha doing digging through people’s trash?” Rogan asked, his voice soft and warm as he tried to coax the Sandslash forward. While he had noticed at first that Dart hadn’t seemed to relax, Rogan had simply assumed that it was because the raccoon was simply being protective, as he had been trained to do ever since he had had him. He didn’t worry too much about it. After all, even wild Pokemon weren’t always hostile. “You know...I got some Pokeblocks in the basket of my bike if you want them. You hungry, little guy?”
The Sandslash simply stared at Rogan in the unwavering silence that followed: unmoving, unresponsive, and eerily silent, even at the mention of food when it had seemed to be hungrily digging through the trash just moments before. He had thought it strange, but not unusual...perhaps he had scared the poor thing and didn’t realize it. After a few moments of no reply, Rogan figured that maybe he would get a better response if he just got up and showed the Sandslash he was honest. Getting back to his feet, the courier turned on his heel to head back to his bike...and at that precise moment, he heard only a couple clicks of claws on cement before he was knocked flat to the ground by the very Pokemon he had just offered food to.
Immediately, Rogan switched to panic mode. Even as the armored desert shrew tore at him with seething bloodlust he had never before seen in such creatures, he fought back with all his might in some effort to pry off the Pokemon on top of him. Remembering the basics he had learned when he had first received Dart, he put his hands up in defense and called the wild Pokemon’s name, hoping that it registered and the creature stopped fighting long enough to realize what was happening to him. Surely it had to realize that he wasn’t an enemy? That he wasn’t in its territory? Why on earth was it hurting him so? All he did was ask if it was hungry! “HEY!” He cried out, feeling the Sandslash’s claws slash open his shirt and a burning lance of pain shoot across his chest. “Sandslash! SANDSLASH! Stop it! I’m not hurting you! STOP HURTING ME!”
It was of no avail. Even as hard as he fought, the creature tore at him for what seemed to be ages, fighting this one-sided fight against a human that could not possibly hurt them on their own. It was so totally against what he had learned Pokemon did that, for a brief moment, Rogan had wondered if this was simply just an elaborate nightmare, and he would wake up screaming from it at any instant.
And what was worse...the courier could have swore, at some points during the battle, as he screamed for help and Dash tried frantically to knock off his Trainer’s assailant with powered charges into its spiny back...the soft light of the moon revealed a smile on the Sandslash’s face. It was as if it was fully enjoying the pain it was inflicting...as if it would be rewarded. Or, perhaps, it simply found the experience itself rewarding. Even now, Rogan didn’t know.
What he did know, however, was that horrible beatdown had dragged on until somehow, by some miracle, his Pokemon had finally grabbed a hold of the wild one and wrestled it away, leaving him groaning and panting heavily as Dart fought against the creature with the very valor and strength that Rogan had always loved him for. Even with his vision wavering through his pained tears and his fatigue, even with his hearing fading until it was more akin to him stuffing his head full of cotton, the young man couldn’t help but be proud of his Pokemon...which, in some roundabout way, made him proud that he hadn’t been awake when the wild Sandslash dealt the final blow to his partner and best friend.
The rest of the time was a blur to him, as Rogan doesn’t remember much after he had passed out. He does know that eventually, someone did find him, called the police and the paramedics, and he was saved thanks to the quick response and the thousands of stitches he had received to hold him together from the brutal mauling he had taken as a result of that fateful meeting. He had had concussions, lacerations, punctures and haematomas galore...but all of those wounds eventually healed, and he eventually got over them. Now, the only physical remnants of his encounter with the being he now knew as a Shadow Pokemon were a few long, pink scars on his chest that were easily hidden by the tee shirts that were a common staple of his daily wardrobe, and a slight limp to one of his knees thanks to the force with which he had been tackled to the ground. But, the mental and emotional scars would never fade...at least not as quickly as the physical ones did. Rogan only had to walk out to his bike and unconsciously reach for the now-empty notch in his belt to know the ultimate sacrifice his Pokemon had made for him...a true hero, all the way to the very end.
It was an emotionally overwhelming feeling, that much was true. Due to that fateful and unfortunate encounter, Rogan had lost more than just a Pokemon. Dart had been his friend, his companion, and his protector. It was because of this that, even when given the option by his most recent employer to have a new Pokemon shipped in for him free of charge to replace the hole made by Dart’s sacrifice, Rogan had refused. In his mind, after putting so much time and effort into training your own companion like that, it didn’t make sense for him to just turn around and replace them once they were gone. Unlike the people who had made that Sandslash that way, Rogan understood that, Pokemon weren’t tools to be used and tossed aside when their use was no longer needed.
And that was something he kept and mind, even now, as he clutched his canvas bag and turned down the road toward the headquarters of ONBS, taking a deep breath as he readied himself for a new day dedicated to fighting off the people who had killed his best friend…
Anyway. Here's one of the short stories I wrote for Yuletide 2015! I will also be posting my pinch hit, so if you're into shipping fics, keep your eyes peeled in the Shippers section! I'm just not going to post that one right away because...haha, it's not really done. At least, not like I'd like it to be. (Sorry again, had a time flub!)
So, without further ado...here is The Sacrifice!
Rogan will never forget the first night he had encountered one of… them.
Honestly, he didn’t know what else to call it. Certainly it wasn’t a normal Pokemon. Normal Pokemon were tame, obedient, friendly...even if they were wild, they didn’t usually attack unprovoked; even if provoked, they were quite reluctant to hurt humans and usually just scared them away. And he should know, too. He was one of the few residents of Pyrite who actually owned a Pokemon (legally, at least), and his beloved Dart would have never acted the way this one did. Hell, it was Dart who ended up saving his life in the end of it…
It had been night time, and the bike courier was out on his evening rounds, his Linoone keeping pace with him as he delivered packages around the better parts of the city. While he knew in this particular area he was less likely to get jumped (which was a real danger here and was one of the main reasons he had paid most of his savings to have a Pokemon from Hoenn bred and sent to him to raise), he still allowed Dart out of his Pokeball to run beside him and stretch his legs while he completed delivieries. He had always seen Pokeballs as a necessity to rein in a rowdy Pokemon and not something to keep them inside of all the time, so it was only fair that if he got to be out and about, Dart would would get that opportunity. In hindsight, he now realized how complacent the two of them had gotten in their nightly routine...how everything had happened so quickly, the only way this even could have been prevented was if only the two of them had been more alert and aware.
Rogan had just dropped off his last letter for the evening when he had heard something scuffling around in a nearby alleyway, causing both Trainer and Pokemon to stop immediately in their tracks. Here in Pyrite Town, where the police were inefficient and many had to pay for an escort if they were too poor for a Pokemon, Rogan had every right to be assuming the worst as he got off his bike and walked with his Linoone towards the source of the sound, already scanning the area for escape routes when things went south. “Tread quietly,” was the only word he whispered to his Pokemon as the shadows of the buildings closed in around them, obscuring moonlight and making it quite difficult to see much of what was going on in the shadows. Holding his hand out, he gently eased closer to the noise of rustling cloth and papers, about ready to apprehend what seemed to be the dark figure of a mugger…
Only then, it turned around, and Rogan could clearly see that it was not a mugger, but a Pokemon. A seemingly ownerless one, at that.
The Sandslash stood there, its dark hide barely recognizable even during a starry night like this one. Its brown eyes reflected the silver of the moon, showcasing their size and the desert Pokemon’s status as nocturnal and a burrower...though the only burrowing that this one seemed to be doing was through the trash bags that had been haphazardly torn open and strewn about the dirty alleyway. It tugged at Rogan’s heartstrings a bit, seeing this creature here that was obviously lost and hungry, and being the altruistic person that he was, immediately relaxed his stance a bit and knelt down to the Pokemon’s level.
“Hey there, little buddy...whatcha doing digging through people’s trash?” Rogan asked, his voice soft and warm as he tried to coax the Sandslash forward. While he had noticed at first that Dart hadn’t seemed to relax, Rogan had simply assumed that it was because the raccoon was simply being protective, as he had been trained to do ever since he had had him. He didn’t worry too much about it. After all, even wild Pokemon weren’t always hostile. “You know...I got some Pokeblocks in the basket of my bike if you want them. You hungry, little guy?”
The Sandslash simply stared at Rogan in the unwavering silence that followed: unmoving, unresponsive, and eerily silent, even at the mention of food when it had seemed to be hungrily digging through the trash just moments before. He had thought it strange, but not unusual...perhaps he had scared the poor thing and didn’t realize it. After a few moments of no reply, Rogan figured that maybe he would get a better response if he just got up and showed the Sandslash he was honest. Getting back to his feet, the courier turned on his heel to head back to his bike...and at that precise moment, he heard only a couple clicks of claws on cement before he was knocked flat to the ground by the very Pokemon he had just offered food to.
Immediately, Rogan switched to panic mode. Even as the armored desert shrew tore at him with seething bloodlust he had never before seen in such creatures, he fought back with all his might in some effort to pry off the Pokemon on top of him. Remembering the basics he had learned when he had first received Dart, he put his hands up in defense and called the wild Pokemon’s name, hoping that it registered and the creature stopped fighting long enough to realize what was happening to him. Surely it had to realize that he wasn’t an enemy? That he wasn’t in its territory? Why on earth was it hurting him so? All he did was ask if it was hungry! “HEY!” He cried out, feeling the Sandslash’s claws slash open his shirt and a burning lance of pain shoot across his chest. “Sandslash! SANDSLASH! Stop it! I’m not hurting you! STOP HURTING ME!”
It was of no avail. Even as hard as he fought, the creature tore at him for what seemed to be ages, fighting this one-sided fight against a human that could not possibly hurt them on their own. It was so totally against what he had learned Pokemon did that, for a brief moment, Rogan had wondered if this was simply just an elaborate nightmare, and he would wake up screaming from it at any instant.
And what was worse...the courier could have swore, at some points during the battle, as he screamed for help and Dash tried frantically to knock off his Trainer’s assailant with powered charges into its spiny back...the soft light of the moon revealed a smile on the Sandslash’s face. It was as if it was fully enjoying the pain it was inflicting...as if it would be rewarded. Or, perhaps, it simply found the experience itself rewarding. Even now, Rogan didn’t know.
What he did know, however, was that horrible beatdown had dragged on until somehow, by some miracle, his Pokemon had finally grabbed a hold of the wild one and wrestled it away, leaving him groaning and panting heavily as Dart fought against the creature with the very valor and strength that Rogan had always loved him for. Even with his vision wavering through his pained tears and his fatigue, even with his hearing fading until it was more akin to him stuffing his head full of cotton, the young man couldn’t help but be proud of his Pokemon...which, in some roundabout way, made him proud that he hadn’t been awake when the wild Sandslash dealt the final blow to his partner and best friend.
The rest of the time was a blur to him, as Rogan doesn’t remember much after he had passed out. He does know that eventually, someone did find him, called the police and the paramedics, and he was saved thanks to the quick response and the thousands of stitches he had received to hold him together from the brutal mauling he had taken as a result of that fateful meeting. He had had concussions, lacerations, punctures and haematomas galore...but all of those wounds eventually healed, and he eventually got over them. Now, the only physical remnants of his encounter with the being he now knew as a Shadow Pokemon were a few long, pink scars on his chest that were easily hidden by the tee shirts that were a common staple of his daily wardrobe, and a slight limp to one of his knees thanks to the force with which he had been tackled to the ground. But, the mental and emotional scars would never fade...at least not as quickly as the physical ones did. Rogan only had to walk out to his bike and unconsciously reach for the now-empty notch in his belt to know the ultimate sacrifice his Pokemon had made for him...a true hero, all the way to the very end.
It was an emotionally overwhelming feeling, that much was true. Due to that fateful and unfortunate encounter, Rogan had lost more than just a Pokemon. Dart had been his friend, his companion, and his protector. It was because of this that, even when given the option by his most recent employer to have a new Pokemon shipped in for him free of charge to replace the hole made by Dart’s sacrifice, Rogan had refused. In his mind, after putting so much time and effort into training your own companion like that, it didn’t make sense for him to just turn around and replace them once they were gone. Unlike the people who had made that Sandslash that way, Rogan understood that, Pokemon weren’t tools to be used and tossed aside when their use was no longer needed.
And that was something he kept and mind, even now, as he clutched his canvas bag and turned down the road toward the headquarters of ONBS, taking a deep breath as he readied himself for a new day dedicated to fighting off the people who had killed his best friend…
![[Imaginative]:[Clockwork]](/data/avatars/m/192/192875.jpg?1525616141){kind=avatar}
