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- May 15, 2017
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- Area Met
- The green pastures.
- Pokedex Entry
- Does anybody remember the laughter?
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Part 1 A faint beam of light dazzles up the black room at who-knows-where, litting up a colliding sphere of a bicolour scheme. In that exact same place, a man of an orange, bright hair and somewhat tempered eyes wakes up from slumber. He's face to face with the origin of the light.
He opens them: calmly, a wide smirk runs down his strong barbel, and a heap of white, sharp teeth salutate the world he has given birth to.
"Hello, Rex."
Behind his backs, a creature of verdant skin and erect composure gets up hastily, hunching its shoulders, and throwing a tired greet.
"Hello, boss," it accosts. "Good morning to ya', huh?".
A malicious smile gleams conspiratorially. The worn out sphere remains happily unmolested by the left corner of the habitation, side by side with the reddish, carpeted lamp. They - the man in the shadows and the monster - both look each other. A conversation starts.
“How was sleep for you, anyways?" the human, not-human, starts. “Why, well, thank you," the very frog-like creature retorts. The only response it gets is a slow nod.
“Tonight, it all comes to this. Don't you forget."
The monster rolls eyes. "As if I had ever forgotten," it thinks. The red-and-white ball - or the thing that lives in it, anyways - stands neutrally, and witnesses the scene at utmost silence. Just a couple of words fly from mouth to mouth when the room goes black. Upon this, the man's lips speak once again.
"...You better not fail me now. Hear it, Rex, 'Kain'?"
The Pokéball is startled. As this words are directed, a racuous «crack» gets to be the last sound both the light in the hallway and the oval hear before meeting the quasi pavimented, brown ground.
One second after, a flaccidly still Pokémon emanates. It makes a shrug, seeing how both the man in black and the Treecko look down at it. The lamp at its right, though, does not.
At Littleroot, the daily routine is to see the light get cross by the deep cracks of wood found in the doors, or browse through the old path that delivers to the middle of the town, in which the sun shines with all its splendor. There, where kids all around play their games and chit-chat.
For Rex and for the tired Zigzagoon, however; no.
The only light that runs through the doors is the one the moon lets fall, and the night that accompanies it is no better, either. The woods quickly left behind hide the living of wild beasts, and the water that drops from the tips of the heated trees does not fail from irritating the weary travelers. The vulpine creature, 'Kain', follows its partner at equal speed.
Once the old village is reached, the Pokémon share looks. As if it had any instructions to follow, Rex makes a signal in direction to Kain, and the latter one nods. A pact is made, and the monster of brown, grimy mane aproachs a white, pale building of red, tulip roofs. Two eyes are put into a window.
Fixated into the white-tiled floor, a man stays silent, huddling on his bed. As the frame twelve steps outer from him stated, the human famed as the "professor Birch" twists from recovery. Rex hastily runs through the pastures, outside. Kain doesn't, and stays on its position. Rex enters the house first.
“It's ironic,” Kain thinks - if someone ever asked what does Birch think about Pokémon, the last saying he would have speak of is “No, thank you very much". And ”No, thank you very much" is the first thing that comes into his mind when he sees the brute monster rapidly twirling him, rampaging the softly made shawls on his bed. A dry shout escapes his mouth.
He reacts, though - and quickly wields a metal coated pistol that lies between the sharp fangs of the Treecko and his drawer. He looks at it fiercely, and goes for the shot: before he can even see the Treecko writhing in pain, an unpleasant sensation of claws runs through his body, revealing him that the silent Zigzagoon is slashing him.
The man touches his own pool of blood. Next to him, a blurry aquarelle meets his sight; the one of a man, covered in black clothing, the one of two slippy stains, one brownish and the other one entirely green, and the one he wishes he'd never see: the one of himself, next to the people on the photo; next to his two killers.
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