Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, or any of its affiliated companies. The characters written about in this fic are based upon the fictional characters created by Pokemon and its affiliated companies. I have taken some inspiration from fanfics written by L. Lamora, Crukix, and Digital Skitty, so a very big thank you to them.
Author's note: Hey everyone, this is my first fic. Please review so that I can improve my writing, but go easy; no one gets it perfect in the beginning. Well, welcome to my mind….
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A crowd roars in the distance while I sit in a comfortable red-cushioned chair. I have been here many times before, a state of unabated and unadulterated suspense and anticipation. Despite the numerous times I have found myself here, the elevated tension has never lost its allure to me.
I have come a long way to prove that not only am I the best, but also that my pokemon are as well. While I sit in rapt suspense, my mind wanders to the beginning. It seems like so long ago…
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I grew up in Viridian City in the years following 2055. At the time of my birth, my family was one of the wealthiest families in the Viridian province. My father, Patrick MacAfee, was a Rapidash breeder, and his prized stallions were from some of the most coveted racing pedigrees in Kanto, due to their expertly-bred characteristics of speed and stamina. His ranch, MacAfee Fire Grounds, was known far and wide and allowed our family a level of fame and prestige.
Due to his knowledge of the ferocity of those beasts, even when tamed, my father denied me, his only son, the opportunity to pursue a career in the Pokemon League as a pokemon trainer at the normal age of fifteen. All of my attempts to persuade him otherwise ended in failure. "People die every day because they underestimate the danger of wild pokemon and overestimate the loyalty of their own," he would say. PokeAdvocates and marketing companies portrayed pokemon as cute and loyal creatures, but a wise person would look past the misleading caricatures and be wary of them in the wild. Pokemon are feral animals; they have to survive in a world where predator and prey constantly become stronger.
Throughout my educational studies in my youth, I learned that pokemon trainers began their adventures at the age of eleven over two hundred and fifty years ago. As humans multiplied and advanced technologically, pokemon evolved alongside them to survive and avoid being pushed out of their habitats by expanding industry. The evolution of pokemon in general took the form of size, ferocity, intelligence, and even submission. This allowed some pokemon to defend their habitats, slow the expansion of civilization, or integrate into human society.
As a result of the continual evolution of the pokemon species, a trainer's life inevitably became more difficult and dangerous. After a time, when the trainer mortality rate reached 60% in the first eight months of their journeys, the Indigo Pokemon League began to raise the minimum starting age. The starting age rose steadily over the years, and it now stands at fifteen years of age. Further League regulations mandated pokemon trainer classes to be taught in school, which were composed of simple wilderness survival studies, rudimentary pokemon biology, and pokemon recognition.
I learned in those classes that the most remarkable traits of pokemon are their ever-growing strength, their adaptive nature, and their breeding traits. Pokemon will adapt to nearly any condition or situation with which they are met, including a world in which humans are becoming more prominent. To survive, pokemon evolve not only in physical stature, but also in mental acuity.
Regarding their adaptive nature and breeding traits, the more powerful a pokemon becomes, the more powerful its offspring would be upon birth. This is how the young can survive in notoriously dangerous environments like Cerulean Cave. For example, a generically leveled 20 Rhydon's offspring would be weaker than a Rhyhorn birthed by a generically leveled 30 Rhydon.
Pokemon are stronger and more dangerous than ever these days, but the tools with which people train them have advanced as well. The League mandates that every one of its members must carry a PokeDex, which serves many purposes. They can measure the strength of pokemon with a high-tech scanner, which gathers information through a thin laser. Upon contact with a pokemon, the laser scans the subject's body and sends back a host of data which the PokeDex then analyzes. Based on a holistic analysis of the pokemon's age and physical composition, the PokeDex produces a rating for the pokemon.
Unfortunately, PokeDex analyses are still only generalizations and do not account for ancestry. Regardless, though, the analyses are very useful and have helped researchers track historic trends in growth and migration. The PokeDexes have shown the progressive migration of pokemon between regions, which has explained why it is not unusual to see pokemon from Johto or Sinnoh in the wilds of Kanto.
I would say with conviction that joining the Pokemon League was a calling because I have always been in love with pokemon. In fact, my first memory even involves playing with a newly born Ponyta colt. The sheer power that pokemon can employ, the ferocity they fight with, and the loyalty they can develop; watching the majesty of my father's many Rapidash never failed to captivate me. I knew in my heart that one day I would become a trainer, despite my father's forbiddance.
During my youth, I spent the majority of my free time reading about pokemon and studying their types. I found almost all pokemon amazing, except for such ridiculous creatures as Bidoof. Though even one of the most pathetic pokemon - a Magikarp - could become one of the most dangerous monsters in existence, as tall as a building and capable of summoning devastating tidal waves and discharging powerful beams of energy to wash away and vaporize its enemies.
In the hands of a trainer, the stronger such a pokemon grows, the more difficult it becomes to control. Most pokemon desire a trainer who can recognize and raise their potentials, even when they become so strong. The trainer needs to have a special bond with the pokemon to keep it from turning on him or her, and if that trainer passes away, his or her pokemon will commonly return to the wild.
The Pokemon League, comprised of trainers, Rangers, gym leaders, the Elite Four, and the Champion, exists to keep human civilization safe from wild pokemon. The Pokemon League works in tandem with the military and police force, but apart from it, dealing exclusively with matters related to pokemon.
Now I would consider myself a very lucky child, but life has its ironies. My parents were fairly wealthy due to their renowned breeding business, but I had trouble forming meaningful relationships with people. Real and reliable friends were hard to come by and expectations from my parents were high. Many a night found me sitting in my room alone, surfing the Pokemon League's international database for Pokemon species, enthralled by the various characteristics of various types of pokemon. But satisfying my curiosity about pokemon only did so much. My parents did not let me spend time with other children who wanted to join the Pokemon League instead of going to college. Since I did not share anything in common with the children of whom they approved, I never made any lasting friends, and it was not long before my loneliness pushed me to expand my horizons.
I found release for my adolescent frustration and vigor in sports. Of the few human-only sports leagues that began to form around a hundred years ago, I participated in baseball and wrestling. My father was proud of me for taking the initiative in finding human sports in which to engage, but he was oblivious to my intentions. He was happy that I "took my mind off trainer nonsense" and played games where I was not at risk of getting ripped apart.
The truth is that I did not enjoy baseball, but I excelled where I applied myself. I refused to play any position other than pitcher and honed my skills to preserve that position. With a strict training regimen, it was possible for me to become an excellent pitcher by practicing my throws almost as often as I researched pokemon.
I started playing baseball when I turned seven years old, so by the time I was able to become a trainer, I predicted that my throws would be fast and accurate enough to serve me well. It was my own special method of preparing to make my dream a reality. With me as the starting pitcher, my team, the Viridian City Montgomery Prep School Beedrills, won four consecutive regional titles and placed 3rd at the Kanto finals when I was 15 years old.
It was a blazing hot day in Pewter City for the finals match. My team had received the generous gift from the Kanto Baseball League of teleportation travel, which allowed us to arrive quickly and safely. The Pewter City East Public School Golems were a tough team that matched our score throughout most of the game. During the last inning, we were ahead by one point when the Golems were at the plate. I only had to end that inning without them scoring and we would win.
I brought the heat. One player hit a ball to center-right outfield and it was caught. I struck out the second batter – at the time I was at the top of my game, throwing 78mph consistently. The third batter hit the ball and ran to 1st base. The fourth and final batter hit the ball right back at me. I won the game by twisting and catching the ball, bruising my hand under the glove in the process. Despite the fact that I was not playing baseball for the glory of the game, I allowed myself to revel in our accomplishment. Even in the face of all the attention and praise I was given, I never lost sight of what I wanted or my reason for playing baseball.
Unlike baseball, I enjoyed wrestling. Like a pokemon trainer, a wrestler's struggle was one of relative solitude, and I relished the one-on-one challenge. I also learned that I could relate to pokemon in battles when I was competing against my opponents, giving me perspective. Furthermore, it kept me in great shape, and instilled in me a sense of discipline and sacrifice.
Despite enjoying wrestling more than baseball, I was not as talented at wrestling as I was in the latter. I managed to take second or third place occasionally at different tournaments, but first place had always eluded me. I was fine with it, though; I did not practice wrestling as often as my pitching for baseball, so it was not surprising that I was not the best among those who actually trained outside of the regulated practices. The end result was a lack of achievement worth mentioning.
My life progressed with me learning as much information about pokemon that I could and becoming adept at pitching, until it all changed during the year of my 16th birthday. All of my classmates who wanted to become trainers had left school a year before graduation, and in some cases students in the grade under me.
So, my class in my final year of school was bereft of any student wanting to join the Pokemon League. I was so jealous that the students had received pokemon the previous year, though I noticed that they all had trouble controlling their new fighters. Seeing them all leave to pursue their passions while not having the same opportunity resulted in me falling into a depression by the time my parents made me apply to college and another wave of students were about to become trainers. Around that time of the year, my Uncle Ray paid us a visit.
My uncle owned a racetrack where my father commonly brought his Rapidash, and had amassed considerable wealth through betting on the races as well as from operating the racetrack venue. On a different note, Ray had been one of the few people I respected, since he encouraged me to follow my dreams, often to the displeasure and disapproval of my parents. He had secretly given me a Great Ball on my birthday the year before with the encouraging words, "One day you will be a great pokemon trainer. You will catch your first pokemon with this ball and you two will become the best of friends. You know how to throw, so don't hesitate when the time comes. And for the Legendaries' sake, don't tell your parents! They'll throw me in the Rapidash pen!"
Since then Great Ball hung around my neck on a small chain. Poketech had advanced so much in the past hundred years, allowing for greater convenience and efficiency for pokemon trainers. Empty Pokeballs were capable of shrinking to the size of inch-long marbles, allowing for the easy transport of many in a small pouch. An occupied Pokeball, however, would only shrink to the size of a golf ball. So, the ball took the appearance of simple necklace to remain undetected by my parents.
My uncle's arrival marked the beginning of his business venture. I stood outside of the parlor listening in while he conversed with my father.
"Pat, I have a proposition for you, and I think you'll like it," he started. I heard the sound of liquid filling a glass.
"I figured as much, Ray. Why else would you request to meet me in the parlor and break out the good stuff? Go ahead," I heard my father reply.
"Well, I've been doing some research and looking into different pokemon breeders for the purpose of starting a breeding business for battler pokemon," he said. My father interrupted, though.
"Battling pokemon?" he asked, sounding incredulous. "Do you know the kind of work that entails? It's much different from running a racetrack."
"Well, let me finish," my uncle told him with a laugh. "I've been meeting with different breeders here in Kanto and in Johto for the better part of this year to see what goes into a breeding farm. I met with Gym Leader Katherine Holmes just last week, actually. I think I know enough about domesticated pokemon to start a breeding business, and I don't think battlers will be that much different. Battlers would certainly bring in more money."
"Right, but Ray," my father continued, sounding exasperated. "You were a trainer for only a few months before you called it quits and returned for college. Battling pokemon are not racing pokemon. It is a completely different industry! You can't even do it without a Pokemon League breeding license."
"Already taken care of," Uncle Ray replied. "I may not have any of my pokemon from those days, but since I beat the Pewter City Gym when I was a trainer, I'm legitimate enough in the eyes of the League to apply for the license, which I did two months ago."
"Really?" asked my father, a bit annoyed. "Well I don't think it's a wise idea."
"I thought you might think that at first," said my uncle. "That's why I've already commissioned a plot of land and paid for a facility. Its construction is already underway."
"What? Where?" asked my father, shocked.
"About five miles northeast of here," he replied. "I'm having the state-of-the-art PokeWall built around the land, which is very sizeable. Have you heard of it?" There was a slight pause, but Ray continued. "It will allow me to link a pokeball to the wall so that the pokemon is confined inside, as if inside a pokeball but able to walk around. I can put in up to 50 pokeballs in each segment of the control panel to be released inside the fence."
"Okay, so what if the pokemon tries to get out?" my father asked.
"The technology prevents them from escaping or damaging the fence," Ray replied. "We can even go inside while the pokemon are out."
There was another period of silence, much longer than the previous. Finally, my father spoke. "So you've done a fair bit of research and preparation, then. What is your proposition?"
"I have a request," Ray told him. "I spent most of my money on the land and the PokeWall. I need some help financially for the pokemon I want to breed."
"What pokemon are you trying to breed?" my father asked him pointedly.
"Well, you see," he said. "In order to have the kind of reputation in this business that you have in yours, I need to have a very strong pokemon to breed; usually one from a trainer who's beaten the Elite 4, or a rare breed of pokemon. That costs a lot, and I already have a special project I'm working on."
"I guess that makes sense," my father replied. "How much do you need?" My uncle told him, but he did so quietly enough that I did not hear. "Hm," I heard my father grunt. "That's a lot but family is family. I'll get you what you need."
"That's what I like to hear," Ray told him. Then I heard the clink of glasses tapping against one another.
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Three weeks later I returned home from baseball practice to hear yelling coming from the parlor. Minutes later my uncle hurried out of the house and my father furiously climbed the stairs and proceeded to meet with my mother, Francine MacAfee, to vent his anger.
I overheard my father yell to her in a rage, "Francine, you'll never believe what my idiot brother just used our money to buy! A gods-be-damned dragon! And not just any – the damned Garchomp from Champion Lorelei's team!"
Lorelei was the 27th League Champion, and her Garchomp was her second pokemon. Lorelei had recently passed away and the fates of her pokemon were decided by her husband.
"He did WHAT!?" my mother exclaimed.
"He used MY name and his fake charm to convince Lorelei's husband that he was competent enough to look after the dragon, the bastard! He is going to lose the Garchomp or get himself killed! And I paid for it! He doesn't understand what he's getting in to!"
I gasped from around the corner. Now I admire dragons, but they have a reputation. To own a dragon, you must be able to command their respect and lead them to glory, for they will never be satisfied as pets. Dragons are very rare, and to find one in the wild usually spells death unless you have a strong team with which to protect yourself because they are fiercely territorial, powerful, and aggressive.
When it comes to protecting people and cities against rampaging dragons, wild or "domesticated," gym Leaders and the Elite Four have been nearly exclusively relied upon to take care of the threat. Knowing this, dragons hold a very special place in my heart as sources of wonder and respect.
Although my uncle loved pokemon almost as much as I do, I believed that he was grossly overestimating his expertise. My parents shared that sentiment. Though it was a horrible time for my father and his brother, the prospect of one of my family members owning a dragon, and a championship one at that, only filled me with excitement.
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One week later, the championship Garchomp named Kira was delivered in her pokeball, and my uncle was finally able to start his business. His plan was to introduce Kira to the environment and let her grow accustomed to it for a few months before breeding her with a male Dragonair. The purpose of this tactic was to hopefully establish a congenial relationship with Kira to aid in her change of ownership.
As expected, Kira reacted negatively to the enclosure upon her release. Building on the recent loss of her trainer, she was also now trapped in a large, intricate cage. My uncle believed that he would not have to control her entirely since he had the PokeWall, which indeed made it easier. He supposed he could give her a large habitat in which to dwell and avoid trying to take the place of Lorelei. He also expected Kira to enjoy her retirement with male dragons to produce offspring with, which showed his lack of understanding about dragons. Uncle Ray knew the championship Garchomp's offspring would be exceptional specimens of her species because of how powerful Kira was, and wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to breed them. Much to my enjoyment, Uncle Ray gave me the opportunity to watch Kira's initial release into the PokeWall.
Kira was enormous; putting my imagination of her to shame. Unlike normal Garchomp, which grew to be around eleven feet tall, Kira towered over everyone in the vicinity, easily four times taller than the tallest breeding trainer. Her head alone was as big as me, and her body rippled with muscles. Her dorsal fin had several scars running down its length and her tail was held out rigidly behind her. She had large black and yellow eyes and her left claw was missing; a reminder of the epic battle with the previous Champion's Empoleon.
When Kira was released, she looked around and let out a roar which shook the ground under our feet and tore up the earth at hers. Her largest teeth were longer than my forearms, and saliva was ejected forcefully out of her mouth as she bellowed, but she disappeared quickly in a burst of white light, and silently appeared ten yards farther back. Immediately after, as if she knew that attempting to destroy the fence was futile, she burrowed. It was a somewhat anti-climactic first meeting, to say the least.
Throughout the next few weeks, I would visit just for the chance to catch a rare glimpse of the majestic creature. Kira was absolutely beautiful; a perfect mix of power, terror, and beauty. She was a living irony at that point, though; a paradox. Kira was a trapped god, and she knew it. Her aggressive demeanor rendered the trainers incapable of approaching and her longest interactions with the world above the soil came when she was being fed.
Kira always knew when she was about to be fed, and would emerge from the ground just as the trainers were bringing in her meals. Through my readings, I had found that Garchomp could sense seismic vibrations deep underground and dig at a speed that rivaled Diglett, which explained how Kira could sense the feeders approaching and arrive so quickly.
From outside of the PokeWall, my uncle would talk to Kira and try to show her that he meant her no harm. It was foolish. As if that legendary mover of mountains considered him a threat. As if she even considered him a flea worth swatting. Kira was sad and pissed off. The only time she seemed to enjoy herself was during feeding time; those poor Mareep… She slaughtered them and tore them to shreds with ease. It was fascinating. My morbid curiosity, respect and, dare I say it, enjoyment, kept me watching as Kira mercilessly slaughtered and devoured the sparking and bleating Mareep. For some reason, I was filled with exhilaration upon seeing Kira pick up the Mareep with one clawed wing and bite them fully in half, barely chewing their heads, front legs, and upper bodies before she swallowed. The top of the food chain landed at her feet.
In a small way, I felt like I could relate to her. Like Kira, I was caged, though in a different way; it was a cage of expectations and limitations set by my parents. Like her, I had a dark and violent side, though repressed on my part. It was not as though I took pleasure in the pain and suffering of others; I took pleasure in the realized potential of a predator. An alpha predator was never to be underestimated or disrespected and I wanted to harness that power! I wanted to develop and nurture that power in a pokemon so that it was as much my power as it was the pokemon's.
It has been said that trainers share a symbiotic relationship with their pokemon, though a human's potential is much more difficult to realize. Only exceptional pokemon trainers who have trained a strong team have been known to realize their potential. Senses becoming more acute and enhanced mental and physical faculties are among the most common occurrences. However, some would say that there is a deeper, more profound change in a person who trains an exceptionally powerful team. History is full of mysterious people who lay the foundation for these kinds of rumors. Agatha of the Elite Four, who lived almost 300 years ago and had a ghost-heavy team was said to have been able to disappear in the dark or walk through walls, much like a ghost. Another example was the 1st Elite Theodore Blackfin, who served under the 26th Champion of Kanto. His team specialized in water-type pokemon and it was said that he could swim as fast as a Sharpedo, hold his breath for an hour, and that his fingers and toes were slightly webbed.
The synergetic relationship between pokemon and trainer intrigued me. I wanted to rise above the frightened creatures that called themselves human, who hid from pokemon out of fear, and to tame the wild. I wanted to build a team worthy of fear and demanding of respect. I wanted to drive a team upwards until they were the best, and raise myself to their level in the process. Simply being near to Kira bolstered my resolve to chase my dream someday. And after about a month, my father and Ray had returned back to friendly terms.
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Three months from then, Kira began to undergo a change. Instead of butchering her meals above the ground, she started dragging them underground while they struggled to escape. She started losing weight, too, ironically. After about a month of that behavior she was returned to her ball, removed from the PokeWall console, and taken to a PokeCenter out of concern for her well-being.
PokeCenters had come a long way in terms of technology and hospitality. They now had a separate area for trainers to sleep, they had a massive underground chamber in which trainers could release their pokemon, they usually had a free fitness center, and they had a cafeteria. However, the most amazing technological advancement was the medicine.
PokeCenters use a very high-tech machine that can heal most injuries short of decapitation, though the pokemon would generally be left with commemorative scars. The medical staff takes your pokeball and inserts it into a large red and white machine. It then hums for a length of time dependent on how injured your pokemon are before revealing on a screen every malady and injury the pokemon has suffered. It also emails that information to the trainer's PokeDex. If I were an engineer, I would explain the technology, but alas, I am a trainer with no expertise in medical engineering.
The generically titled Nurse Joys all went by the same name for the sake of tradition. They were all required to have degrees in Pokemon biology, and had to have a minor in PokeMed engineering. Nurse Joy positions had their own college career path that paid well after graduation, which made the profession very desirable and competitive. Though historically the Nurse Joy position has been limited to the female gender, as a result of civil equality movements, men are now allowed to apply. However, they are not referred to as "Nurse Joy." Instead, they are known as "Nurse Perry."
The Nurse Joy helping my Uncle Ray found nothing physically wrong with Kira and sent my uncle away after a few hours, during which the entire staff of hired breeders searched Kira's underground tunnels for anything unusual. When my uncle returned, the breeders were all panicked because one of them had become lost in the apparent labyrinth Kira had made underground. It took three hours for the lost trainer to emerge, accompanied by another trainer with a Sandslash. My uncle and his staff then realized it was a lost cause to try and search the entirety of the tunnel system. After that, they started feeding Kira more, doubling her diet.
Curious about the tunnels, I talked to the trainer who had become lost and asked him how it was. He replied with, "I felt like I was in a nightmare. At one point I heard eerie noises and the sound of rocks being thrown, but when I investigated, I found no source for the noise. At that point, I thought a Haunter had found me and was playing tricks on me. I never want to go through that again."
Interested, I asked if he remembered where he went and he said, "I can't really remember, to be honest. I tried drawing a map so that I wouldn't get lost and we see how that worked out." I asked him for the map and he handed it over saying, "But don't you even think about going down there. You would have to pass into the reserve and Kira probably wouldn't take kindly to anyone invading her territory. Not to mention her own burrow!" At the time, I did not know what I wanted to do with the map, but I wanted it anyway. I took it and hid it amidst my possessions in my room.
Kira started gaining more weight after her new diet was instituted, returning back to her healthy state. My uncle had even made enough progress with Kira that she would let him into the enclosure without attacking him outright.
After another month, my uncle decided it was time to proceed with the next stage of his plan. He was several months behind schedule but he felt excited all the same. He booked a flight for Johto and took Kira with him to Blackthorn City. There, a man was breeding his Dragonite and had raised four Dratini into Dragonair, three of which were male and one of which was female. My uncle brought Kira with him to see which Dragonair would be the best match for her, not to return for approximately a week.
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One week later, Uncle Ray returned. When I opened the door to greet him, I was met with a disheveled and depressed looking man that vaguely resembled my Ray. He asked to see my father, who met with him in the parlor while I listened from behind the door.
"You look like hell, Ray," My father commented.
"Yeah, well I screwed up, Pat," he responded.
"What happened?" my father asked cautiously.
"Kira went crazy when I released her at the breeder. She killed the Dragonair I was going to buy with an earthquake, and knocked the rest of us down. I was almost too late to save the breeder himself by putting her back in her ball before she killed him. Now I'm down the money for the Dragonair and I don't have enough for another, not that the breeder would sell me another if I did."
"That's… terrible," my father said in a heavily judgmental tone. "So Kira is too much to handle."
"It would appear so for the time being," Ray told him. There was a significantly long pause.
"Well I'm happy you're alright. What are your plans now?" my father finally asked.
"I'm going to have to start my business with a cheaper breed of pokemon and save up for a different dragon in future. Hopefully by then Kira will be more affable," Ray responded.
"I see. That sounds like a good plan," my father told him. "We can figure out which breeds to raise tomorrow. Go get some sleep; you look like you really need it."
"Fair enough," my uncle responded. "I just need to stop by the PokeWall to return Kira."
"Alright. And Francine and I'll make something for you before you leave," my father said to him. "You look famished."
At that point, I stopped listening and went to bed. I cannot say that I was surprised, to be honest. It was as if my uncle had put no thought into the nature of the pokemon he had purchased. Sure, he provided food and an open cage for her, but he knew nothing about dragons, and was in way over his head.
That night was hard to remember in full. I remember waking up with my mom shaking my shoulders violently. I heard yelling outside. My mother was crying as she urged me out of bed and hurried me out of my room. She took me quickly through the house to the back door where our car was waiting to take us to Viridian City.
When I asked my mother what was going on, she turned to me and told me that my Uncle Ray was dead; that when he had released Kira at the reserve, she continued her rampage and completely tore through the fence, a feat considered impossible. When she broke through the PokeWall, her pokeball had likewise been destroyed. She had essentially freed herself and continued her rampage, heading towards our house.
After receiving a call while in the car, my mother told me that Kira had demolished my father's Rapidash ranch, which lay in her path toward our house, and that she did not know if any of my father's stallions were still alive. A Garchomp of Kira's strength could easily bring down the house using its seismic powers, so my mother had decided to flee towards the city. She told me that my father had headed in a wide arch around Kira's path of travel to try and rescue any of his stallions, which was why he was not present, but her demeanor showed me that she had little faith.
That night we drove to the city, not looking back. We called the police while we drove to inform them of the situation. When we reached the police station, an alarm was booming, and the Viridian City gym leader, Pierce Williamson, was waiting for us. He then contacted the current Champion, Bruce Volker, and informed him that Lorelei's Garchomp was rampaging. At that point, my mother took me into the city to find a safe place to hide.
From what I remember about that night, the League and Viridian City suffered great losses. Leader Williamson went to intercept Kira while he waited for the League to arrive, taking his own league pokemon team with him. Kira managed to kill the gym leader's Rhydon and Steelix before Champion Volker showed up with both the 3rd and 4th members of the Elite Four. Kira had rushed the Rhydon, and then basically burrowed through its body when she pinned it against the ground. She had then taken the fight sporadically above and below ground with the Steelix, eventually killing it with a hyper beam to its metal face.
Kain McGall, the psychic-based elite, and Shirley Manson, the fire-based elite, were the 3rd and 4th elites, respectively. When they arrived, they took her down after a bloody fight in which Bruce's Flygon almost died in a flurry of dragon claws and tail thrashing, and Shirley's Infernape lost a hand to Kira's uncompromising fangs. Bruce's Kingdra finally stopped Kira with a beam of ice that pierced her thick hide and flash-froze her heart.
The following morning was full of sorrow for the city, but for my family, it was so much worse. My uncle was dead. My father's business was destroyed; he managed to save Blazerunner, his 3rd most prestigious stallion, but all of the others perished. Our house had miraculously escaped the rampage, but we would not be able to afford our lifestyle for long after that, unless my father could find a way to rekindle his fire ranch.
My parents were consumed by stress and depression. They sold my uncle's land back to Viridian City soon after to gain some income and the days became filled with my parents fighting about our future prospects. After a few days of waking up to yelling and spending the rest of the day in a tense, silent house, I could not endure it any longer, so I looked for any way to escape. I grabbed the faulty map of Kira's burrow and snuck out to my uncle's abandoned reserve. It was there that my adventure truly began.
The PokeWall was demolished on one side, and the large sign that read "Ray's Breeding Grounds" was lying on the ground where the fence was bent outwards. I walked around inside of the enclosure for a while, kicking dirt and throwing rocks. I brought the map because I thought that it might be fun to explore some of the tunnels, but I could not bring myself to actually enter the dark passage for a while. Eventually, though, my curiosity compelled me to walk down the incline into the burrow.
It was around two o'clock in the afternoon when I took a strong flashlight, a few water bottles, a few sandwiches, and some chips in my backpack, and headed down into the tunnels with my flashlight illuminating the way. The sound of my footsteps started to echo after a while and the earthy smell filled my nostrils. Aside from echoes, it was completely silent – borderline unnerving. I followed the poorly scribbled map before I came to the point where I believed he had made a mistake. He had drawn three branches in the road when in reality it had four diverging routes. I made the changes on the map and made my best guess as to which tunnel he had gone down. The dirt beneath my feet did not have any footprints or markings to take into account, so I just picked at random.
The path I walked along curved downward into a large nest-like burrow. When I slid down, I heard something skittering, and a small screech rang out in alarm. I jumped with a frightened yelp at the sudden outcry, and shined my light around erratically. My nerves calmed when I saw a pair of Diglet racing across the floor to a hole in the wall. With a sigh of relief, I bitterly muttered, "Stupid little things."
After I spent some time checking out the burrow, which also lacked any footprints, scratches, or markings, I sketched the burrow onto the map. Then I walked back to the portion of the tunnel that branched out in multiple directions. It took me a little while, but when I reached the fork, I took another random tunnel. As I walked on at a leisurely pace, noticing the time an hour and a half later, I started hearing something I could not place. It was like a distant scratching and moaning. My first thought, thanks to the previously lost employee, was of a malignant Haunter messing with my mind. But then, as I went further, I was running my hand along the left side of the tunnel when it hit a patch of unusually damp soil.
Intrigued, I started brushing it away to reveal a covered entrance. The inside was very humid and the sounds that I had been hearing intensified. It was a loud growling with an occasional screech. I slowly descended on the sharp earthy incline, and after a few yards, the tunnel opened up. I shined my flashlight over the small cavern walls with trickles of water running down them into a small pool, and the light eventually fell upon a creature in a soft earthy mound.
My jaw dropped and my heart sank. It was a massive Gible! It was either about to evolve, or it was just a freak of nature. It was easily five feet tall – a little shorter than myself – and it looked emaciated. My heart sank and time almost seemed to stop because at the moment the light from my flashlight shined upon the dragon, its eyes met mine and it let out a shriek, revealing razor-sharp teeth underneath bloodshot eyes. With a frightened yell, I turned and ran for my life, hearing heavy footfalls behind me.
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