Pokémon Pokémon: Flames & Roses

[Arbee]

Disclaimer: Graphic Depiction of Violence​

Prologue - Stay With Me
[Garnet]

"The gravest danger doesn't come when we're facing insurmountable odds and when the victory is all but unachievable. It comes when we think that the stakes are low and our confidence blinds our judgment."

​

<Cinderace!>

A voice all too familiar sounds like a distant echo. From somewhere far beyond, resonating through the back of my mind. At first, silent as a whisper. Then growing in timbre and intensity with each vowel escaping the human lips. Pulling me out of my sweet slumber-like state.

That's me! I'm needed. And she doesn't have to ask me twice.

I'm ready.

The ripple of energy swirls through my body like a phantom's touch. The light brighter than the sun itself quickly overloads my eyesight. Impossibly sharp. Blinding.

Everything goes white in an instant. A tingle of electricity drives my muscles into a slight tic as they start twitching. Reacting to the abrupt re-entry.

A gut-wrenching feeling very reminiscent of a free fall makes me unbearably nauseous. Something still hard to get used to even after all these years. What should have felt like a split second drags out way longer than I'd want to. Just like that very first time so long ago.

The sphere finally lets me go, unleashing a thunderstorm of sensation, straining me to my limits as I regain the ability to feel again after... Hours? Days? Weeks, perhaps?

A fetid stench of fish and seawater. A gentle kiss of coastal wind brushes against my fur, already damp from moisture. A rumbling beastly roar, outscreaming the feeble ship horn howling in distress.

What's that?

The sense of sight is the last one to return.

A humble trawler boat from how it looks like. It's battered beyond the point of repair.

The deck is covered with twisted metal debris and shattered wooden planks. The hulk is dotted with so many holes and dents, it might as well be an ant nest. A couple of the lifeboats are gutted out in a scuffle, torn apart like rubber toys. A string of choking black smoke rises above the caved in captain's cabin.

I'm late for the party, aren't I?

The guest of honor makes itself known rather quickly.

A gush of salty water washes over the starboard, leaving a cluster of seaweed hanging over the edge. A large, blue-scaled snake-like tail pulls itself out from the depths.

My trainer yells behind my back. Her voice is barely audible amidst the unfolding chaos.

<Garnet! Buy us some time! We'll try to get this tub working!>

My head doesn't turn around. I respond with a simple nod. We've seen much worse. Count on me.

Another geyser shoots up from the surface of the brackish liquid. A serpentine head follows in its path. The torrent smashes into the ship, almost tipping it to the side and forcing me to cling onto the railings.

The creature lets out another rabid cry, pushing itself into a seething animalistic frenzy.

Oh boy. Here goes nothing.

As I feel my feet starting to slide down the tilted deck, a burning sensation coils up my legs in swift response. A scent of burnt lumber touches my nostrils. The planks blacken under my soles, creating ashen brake marks while I slow myself down. Enough to regain my balance.

The monster's tail comes crashing through, sending splinters of wood flying like razor-sharp shrapnel. Few of them get entangled in the flocks of my fur. Painfully stinging the skin far underneath. One of the torn-out plank passes right above my head, grazing against my ear. The second piece is knocked right back by a well-placed kick. It bounces off the sky-colored scales of the serpent's mug. The timber shatters into bits upon the impact.

Another belch-like roar escapes the creature's gaping maw. Not one of pain but rather an annoyance. Its scarlet eyes turn at me. Good.

Its snout looks bloody. Crimson strings glisten between the lamellas like a web. My friends did quite a job already. Let's see if I can match it.

An orange glow shines through the creature's gullet, an orb of fire forms inside as it prepares to attack.

The thunderous scream gains in pitch. The light is growing more intense.

I duck right in time before a ray of pure inferno comes raging from the monster's mouth. The air is hissing around me, the water is evaporating from the coastal air. Despite this close call, the heat feels almost soothing. Like a wave of crystal-clean water washing over a dried-up fish. Nice try.

The sound of something creaking behind my back quickly jerks me back to reality. I briefly glance over my shoulder.

The mast. Its foundation is all but melted away by the stream of raging flames.

I jolt to the side, seeing an opportunity. Propelling myself across the broken deck. Gaining momentum. Zig-zagging with each step to outpace the chasing ray of roiling energy. I can almost feel the scalding temperature brushing my back. It's catching up.

As I reach the caved-in cabin, a timed slide turns me in the opposite direction. My eyes lock onto the spar slowly starting to lean over and threatening to fall. Fingers crossed.

I dash back, turning my steps into wide leaps, becoming longer and longer with each jump. I try to gain as much speed as I can within the tight space of the bow.

The mast finally snaps; its descent is followed by a horrid ear-piercing shriek of breaking metal.

Launching myself into the air, I strive to slightly redirect its fall. Crashing into the pole with all my weight and impetus. Adrenaline pumping through my veins softens the impact and dulls the pain. At least for long enough to keep it all in check.

The fall's adjusted by mere inches. But it's enough.

The serpent squeals as the whole structure comes tumbling down on top of its head. A loud crack of breaking scales and rasping bones beneath signify success. A whiff of copper reaches my nose, mixing in with the salty nautical stench. Disgusting.

Despite the horrid gaping wound, the creature doesn't seem dissuaded. Not in the slightest.

Oh, now it's angry. The pair of its bloodshot eyes practically scream murder. And yet it doesn't move. Biding its time.

The gaze. It's wrong. The beast's Irises dull down in contrast to the scarlet sclerae. Becoming stale and almost grey with odd strands of red beneath. Weird.

But there's no time to satisfy the curiosity.

My face doesn't betray the confidence, but a funny tingle in my stomach tells it all. If it was just a little faster I would have been smothered across the floor like jam.

I think I can finish it if I'm swift enough. It's all or nothing now.

Another dash, almost doing a full circle across the deck. My feet start to heat up again, my soles are striking sparks with each of my hops, like matches brushing against the matchbox.

My heels briefly catch on fire. Shooting out gray puffs of smoke with each soft tap. My eyes pick up what looks like a buoy buried under the rubble. That'll do. Let's end this.

An instep kick sends the marker float flying. The plastic quickly gets engulfed in flames, turning into a ball of red-hot heat. Growing in size midway. Homing right into the serpent's eye. That's gonna hurt.

The creature isn't slacking off this time however. It smacks its tail against the water, unleashing another torrent right in front of its face. Creating an entire wall of it to shield behind.

My heart skips a beat as I see the sphere of fire getting extinguished. Nothing but smoking embers come out of the other side of this liquid barrier.

Right. Genius.

I scoff at myself through my gritted teeth. Bending my knees to prepare for another charge. I have to improvise.

A wave washes over the ship, splattering slimy seaweed across the crumbling floor. Worst timing.

The very first step makes me slip and fall prone on my stomach. I slide across the boards, stuffing my cheeks full of rotten algae. It almost makes me vomit.

Before I can push myself back up, the serpent's tail coils around my leg.

My chest sinks. I screwed up.

It jerks down, dragging me towards the edge of the starboard.

Desperately trying to cling onto something, my tiny claws come out, carving a trail of cuts onto the planks. Pain shoots through my wrist as one of the nails pops off, embedding itself into the wood.

The air whistles in my ears. My fingers try to cling onto the handrails, but it is to no avail. Too late.

I hear the distant yell of my trainer before it gets cut off by a loud splash. Everything goes black.

Freezing ocean water is as icy as a grave. Chilling me to my bones as the creature drags me deeper. The nauseating taste of brine enters my mouth.

I want to scream, yet nothing but bubbles come out of my throat. The tail of the creature tightens up the grip, wrapping itself around my torso.

It's crushing me.

I don't know how much time passed. But it feels like an eternity. My legs try to slip in between me and the creature to create some space and leverage. But it's impossible. The strength of the monsters muscles is way too much to handle. It constricts me tighter and tighter. Making it hard to hold in the air.

The pressure starts climbing up. My bones creak under the sheer weight of the foe.

The chill of the ocean crawls under my fur. I try to thrust as hard as I can, but it's not working. Nothing is working.

I can't breathe.

It's cold. Dark.

Is it the end? Did I finally push my luck too far?

I feel so little amidst the forever-stretching abyss of the sea. It threatens to suck me in for good.

As the monster's body tightens up, a dull snap in my chest sends a jolt of excruciating pain coursing through my body. Overwhelming my senses. Pulling me out of my half-catatonic state. But there are no options left. I'm helpless.

I try my last ditch effort out of desperation. Biting into the scales. Long frontal teeth of mine slide between them like a hot knife through butter. When an unmistakable metallic tinge brushes against my lips, my upper jaw lunges deeper. Tearing at the exposed tissue.

The grip loosens up. A miracle, no less.

There's little time to think.

Pushing myself off the creature's back, I launch my body aloft. The crippling pain in my ribcage is unbearable. The air is out.

A little longer. I breathe in water, losing the fight against the stabbing feeling of suffocation.

The light. I make it out, even though my sight starts fading. It's close. So close. So very near.

My fingers sense the comforting touch of the breeze. The air. Sweet, sweet air.

My loud inhale resonates with agonizing pain inside my chest. But my will to live makes it that much duller.

I feel my frame shaking. Whatever confidence was there before is gone, opening the way to the all-consuming dread. I don't want to die. Not like this. Not in the depths.

<GARNET!>

The first thing I see is my owner's face. Her glasses are awkwardly hanging off her nose as she tries to reach out over the edge of our vessel. Her short brown hair is almost white, a thin layer of drying up salt is changing the palette.

Her eyes matching her name in color are heavy with angst.

Hazel. Trainer. Mom. Please help me.

A boat hook taps my shoulder. I cling to it as hard as I can. My one remaining lifeline.

A gush of chilling air brushes against my fur as she jerks me back to the deck.

Everything hurts. The sound of my retching muffles the thunder of ongoing battle as I try to get the brine out of my throat and lungs.

Hazel's heavy fisherman's coat wraps around me like a blanket. She tries to lay me down. Her rough human hands wipe the seaweed off my face.

The pain makes me dizzy. Light in the head. My sight starts failing again. I space in and out of delirium.

Scenes flash and blend together like a black-and-white kaleidoscope.

The sky. Grey clouds. Our trawler tipping left and right. Sending chunks of debris flying back and forth along with it. The creature. It's persistent. It isn't giving up.

My owner yells something out, making gestures at the cabin. Can't quite make it out.

The sound of our ship's propellers winding up anew wakes up my hope. The beast is wailing. The spinning blades rip right into its flesh.

Did we get it?

Everything starts fading out.

The last thing I discern is the sound of footsteps tapping on the wood. And the faint pleas. Barely reaching my ears.

<Stay...>

<With...>

<Me...>

 

[Arbee]

Disclaimer: Graphic Depiction of Violence​

Chapter 1 - Meowscarada
[Jasper]

"The one and only thing we'll never be able to escape from is ourselves and all the luggage that we tug along behind our back."

​

Lines in the sand. So fragile. And yet so expressive. They ebb and flow as quickly as the soothing waters wax and wane around them. Changing shapes and shifting their meanings. Assuming forms. Creating patterns. Compelling me to explore their fluid nature.

I roll onto my stomach, cautiously reaching out to touch the viscous soil and hoping to feel a pang of refreshing moisture to caress my fur.

It doesn't come.

A silent sigh escapes my lips. It isn't real. No matter how convincing it may look.

The little meadow overgrown with buds and blooming vibrant flowers. The deep green willows creaking in the morning breeze. The ripe fresh grass grazing against my body. The still perfectly blue sky without a single tinge of white. The crystal-clear pond full of gorgeous yellow lilies, reflecting the merry gentle sun above. The rich palette of colors. All fruits of my own imagination, given form by the man-made sphere I call my home.

These haze-like mirages aren't refined, but they're malleable like clay. Eagerly responding to both intrusive thoughts, capricious whims, and needs along with the subconscious. For better or for worse.

Am I awake within this thing, I wonder? Or am I trapped inside my mind each instant when I'm here? Or maybe somewhere in between. It's hard to say. I wish I knew the answer.

Time holds little power in this place. It stretches out like resin and shrinks down like drops of dew in equal measure. Making it hard to count the days I've spent within.

The rays of light seem static. Almost frozen, making it appear as if the pasture has been confined in an internal daybreak. And yet the air brings little warmth. Barely reaching my dulled perception.

Such shame.

But I will be called upon again to see the sprightly outdoors. In-due-course. A little patience goes a long-long way.

It isn't a jail or a dungeon. I'm here on my own volition. And I can leave at any time.

Right?

A cold tingle runs down my spine at the merest thought of being stuck. This unexpected surge of feelings takes me by surprise.

I try my best to brush it aside, shaking my head and taking a deep breath.

Calm, Jasper. You're okay. You're safe. Even if it is but an illusion, it is your refuge. And has been for many years. Collect yourself.

My eyes close as I suppress the inkling of discomfort.

When they pop open, something looks slightly off. The sun. It dimmed down. The skies took in a greyish tint, preparing themselves for a rain. The grass looks drier. Sickly.

I grit my teeth, attempting to clear my mind from the unnecessary contemplation. I need to distract myself.

My slightly trembling paw reaches back into the bushes, trying to find a little souvenir I took with me.

To my relief, a comb made out of a sea shell is still in its spot. A touch of its rimmed crusty surface brings some solace to my heart. Reminding me of the love and care that Auntie made it with. I know she wouldn't leave me here.

Pushing myself closer to the surface of the water, I lean over the edge to look at myself in nature's mirror.

But what I see cuts off my breath.

The liquid. It's black like tar.

A loud snap. A sound of something bursting open.

A pair of tear-ridden pink eyes look back at me. Their unmoving gaze locks in. The features fidget around, rippling like sludge. Fuzzy. Barely recognizable. Until they start forming contours.

My mask is gone. A tiny twisted cat-like face takes over the spot instead. Much younger than myself. It's dirty. Grimy. Filthy. The color of its fur is hardly recognizable under the crimson stains and soot.

No. Not again. Not here. Please.

My head starts spinning, filling me with nausea.

The reflection. It opens up its mouth as if screaming for my help. But the plea turns into a disgusting gurgle, resounding through the ground itself.

The greenery starts withering around me with soft ticks and cracks, turning into dust. Disintegrating like old parchment. Revealing the crumbling wet concrete, pushing itself out of the mud.

The foam rises up above the surface, threatening to overflow the shallow pond. Masking the horrific image under the thick layer of pitch. But the piercing glint of eyes still haunts me from beneath. My eyes.

"Go away..." I murmur to myself, feeling the creeping hand of dread crawling up my chest.

"Please... Leave me alone-"

My words are cut midway by chink of glass shards falling from above. The sound of a lamp exploding into bits and pieces. It's followed by a buzz of electricity.

The so-called sun goes out. Covering what once was a peaceful meadow in an all-consuming shade.

My nose picks up a faint smell of rot. My ears make out the distant taps of footsteps. And a cackle. A cold, uncaring human laugh echoing through the darkness like a whisper. Mixing in with the jingle of the iron keys.

I press myself into the ground, covering my head with my paws. In an almost childish desperate attempt to not be seen.

<Sixteen...>

A raspy male voice breaks the rapidly cooling down air. The sound of it is choking. Overbearing. Exuding a sadistic poison, sipping out of every letter that it speaks.

It makes me want to sink into the floor. To vanish. To disappear. Just so I won't have to hear it.

You aren't real. Not anymore. Get out of my mind.

<Hiding again, Sixteen?>

Don't say that name. I'm not him. I won't be again. Please leave.

My fingers squeeze my temples harder, my claws start drawing tiny drops of blood.

The memories. They flood my mind like a wave, crushing the wall of my defiance with mocking ease. My legs tuck into my stomach as I crawl into a fetal-like position.

They came to take me back.

My tendons impulsively tense up, preparing for the pain to come. I want to run, but strength departs my shaking limbs, leaving only a paralyzing chill weighing them down like lead.

<How impolite. Perhaps it's time to teach you yet another lesson, mongrel.>

The footsteps stop. Somehow the moment of overwhelming silence fills me with more fear than the approaching jailor.

My heart misses a beat after another. Racing within my chest, barely able to keep up under the weight of distress ravaging through my head like a maelstrom.

A steel clank of a chain finally breaks the silence. A creak of aged metal scraping against metal. So loud, it makes my teeth ache as I helplessly cover my ears.

A soft whimper escapes my lips, drawing the man's attention.

<Here you are.>

The voice sounds content. Satisfied like a wild predator that managed to corner their prey.

I can't see the figure, but I can feel its foul eyes locked on me. Sending sickening shivers in my stomach.

Exposed. Alone. I want this nightmare to end.

The piercing shrieks of iron rumble louder than before, drawing ever closer. Rubbing against the stony floor of what now looks like a cell.

The noise almost makes me jump as I turn my head around.

The spirit-crushing darkness makes it impossible to see. Only distorted shapes creeping on the very edge of my eyesight. Vicissitudes of unsaturated shades.

The trees or whatever's left of them appear gnarled. Contorted. The leaves are gone, replaced by dangling bits of jagged metal. Shaking in the ghastly breeze, each movement is followed by mournful ringing as they clap against each other.

A sudden squall shudders through the air, unleashing a choir of cacophony. Deafening me, reverberating through the walls, and setting the dust fly free. The creeks, the electric buzz, the cackling of the invisible figure. All blends into a horrid chorus of bone-grinding noise. Forcing me to join in with my own involuntary scream.

The iron-covered branches start to move. Slithering like snakes as they aggressively coil and squirm. Preparing to attack. Clanking. Rattling. Before they launch themselves towards me.

The floral carcass strikes me with a swarm of chains. They stretch out from the decaying trunk akin to a pack of writhing centipedes, latching themselves onto me.

The frosty sting of cold iron fills my body with an all-too-familiar sense of resignation and despair.

Deep down I know that no matter what I try, it'll only make it hurt tenfold.

The metal wraps around my shoulders, my chest, my neck, my arms. Anchoring itself in an unbreakable, unyielding grip. Stealing all my vigor from my sinews.

Nowhere to flee.

The visions seem all too real to me. Scratching against the back of my mind. Forcing their way in through the open door inside my psyche that I'll never be able to close for good.

What if my breakout was a dream?

What if I'm still there? Locked up. Nestled among those who weren't so lucky. Or am I the unlucky one?

Nothing is making sense now. Have I lost it? Has my mind finally shattered like a crystal vase, beyond repair or salvation?

A silent sob escapes my lips.

My head's a hectic mess. The only straw separating whatever's left of hope from the black pit of dejection is but a tiny glimmer. An echo. A name.

"Garnet!" I yell into the shadows. I doubt that he can hear me from inside this nightmare. But the dim flicker of belief hiding in my heart won't let me stop. "Please help me... p-please..."

Another screech rattles through the gloom. The chains pull back, slowly hauling me toward the husk of the animated tree. It opens like a casket, revealing a mouth full of leaden "teeth". Knives, scalpels, drills, and needles. All sticking out of its wooden desiccated gums in uneven rows.

A wide and hungry maw eager to tear into my skin and bone.

"Garnet..." I whisper to myself, still hopeful that somehow my prayer would reach his ears.

He doesn't answer. Only the same mocking laughter follows suit.

The thing draws closer. Its iron fangs brush against my fur, dripping with oil, rust, and blight. Ready to rend me like a rag. To chew and spit me out. Discard me like the rest. Never to see the light of day nor breath of life again.

"Friend..." I mutter under my breath. Recalling the first word that he has ever said to me so long ago. The day they found me. The day they broke me out.

I close my eyes in acceptance, preparing for the torture to begin. No way to run.

A moment passes.

Another one, dragging it out for unbearably long.

My forehead strains, my feline fangs bite into my lip to muffle myself up and brace for the approaching pain. My tail curls behind me in defeat.

What is it waiting for?

Let's get this over with.

Why aren't you hurting me?

Reluctantly, I lift my heavy eyelid in confusion.

It's gone.

I stare at the clear pond of water right in front of me. My terrified expression leers back from it. My own, this time. Stands of my fur stand up like arrows from the shock.

My trembling paw slowly rises up, brushing away a tear from my clammy cheek as I watch the surface glint with rays of sunshine.

Lines in the sand. There's still. The waves have calmed themselves.

I take a deep breath and roll onto my back. Barely holding myself together and fighting the tremor in my limbs.

The forestry returned. It's green once more.

The grass around me is rumpled after a struggle. My comb tossed carelessly aside with but a tiny crack on it.

I loudly exhale, sprawling flat on sun-warmed earth. It's over. The nightmare has passed. Yet somehow deep inside I know that it will never leave. It'll lie in wait, hiding the slimy tendrils of my memories with patience inside my psyche. Looking for yet another opportunity. A moment of laxity. A trigger to release itself.

I'm ill.

I wish there was a cure.

To my relief, there isn't any time to introspect. Not now. Not yet. I'm not prepared for that.

The walls of the man-made shelter shake and tremble, drawing my attention. Not a moment too soon.

An echo shudders through the sphere, coming from beyond the shell. A call I have been waiting for.

My caretaker sounds stressed as she reaches out to me. Selfsame. Whatever's happening on the outside surely can't be worse than this. I heed her call.

<Meowscarada!>

 

[Arbee]

Disclaimer: Graphic Depiction of Violence​

Chapter 2 - Friend
[Garnet]

"Another soul. Chipped away and broken. Cast aside like a faulty tool."

​

The pain in my shattered chest is slowly fading, as I drift into unconsciousness. The voices melt, merge, and coalesce, deluding in the waves of death-like sleep until they're finally snuffed out, replaced by tranquil silence.

It draws me deeper. Promising a respite.

It takes me back.

This dream again. I've seen it way too many times. So many versions of it. Details often change, but the outcome is the same. I cannot recall how much of it is true. The facts are hiding themselves under the weight of time and my denial. But it is stuck with me, no matter how hard I try to wipe it off my mind.

It was so long ago when I was a kid along with my trainer. I pride myself on being her very first.

A year after her graduation? Can't quite tell.

The memories are fuzzy, but they won't stop coming back each time I bed down.

I remember.

Just the two of us. Furtive and vulnerable. Sneaking into a shady compound right in the middle of it being attacked by the wilds. I guess even the patience of disorganized ferals inevitably runs out when one keeps pushing the limits too far.

My tiny paws fiddle with the locked trapdoor handle. Trying to force it open. Unsure of what to do. It's heavy. Far more than I can take care of.

The rusty iron hatch with a worn-out red letter R on it looks almost impenetrable. A slab of metal bolted into the solid concrete floor.

I turn my head around; my ears are lowering down on my shoulders. Giving the impression of pleading for my owner's guidance.

Hazel responds with a childish yet understanding smile as she sees me struggle.

She kneels right next to me, trying to be quiet. Her big brown eyes dart around to make sure that we aren't seen. Flashes of energy light up the woods behind the razor-wire fence, accompanied by an entire cannonade of claps and cracks. Both sides must be preoccupied.

<Even the strongest steel has weak points,> Mom's whisper is as soft as silk.

Hazel taps the hinges of the weighty lid, drawing my attention, <Try here, sweetheart.>

I press my foot against the metal, trusting in her judgment. Tentatively at first. Before finally rubbing it to draw out my powers.

Each strike of the sole makes the steel shift in color. From grey to black. From black to crimson. From crimson to bright and fiery orange. Until it slowly starts to melt away, turning into slag and spilling out on the floor.

<Great job, Scorbunny!> she sounds proud. Like a parent watching a kid making their first steps.

I respond with a wide and open smile, wishing that I could speak Mom's language to reciprocate her love and temperance.

We latch onto the lid, trying to lift it up together. It finally gives way. Our arms wobble from the strain as we try to move it aside without making too much noise. Masking the sounds of metallic screeches under the thunder of the raging battle unfolding all around.

The grunts may still be too busy trying to evacuate the site, but we aren't taking any chances. Not when we're close to the prize. Whatever that may be.

There.

The hatch finally creaks open. Revealing a hole with a dozen-foot ladder leading downstairs into the basement. Right into their holding cells.

It's jet black. The air coming out of it is warm and moist, carrying a whiff of corrosion, mold, and a sickeningly sweet scent of putrefaction. This cocktail of vile aromas rebukes me. Making me feel unwell in my stomach.

I look at Hazel once again, begging for reassurance.

<I know it's scary. But we have to, little guy. There might still be someone left and in need of rescue,> she frowns, making her expression look a little gloomy. <The poachers will put down all those they can't take with them if we don't intervene.>

Her fingers scratch my ear. They're trembling ever so slightly. Just like myself. She does a much better job than me at dealing with it.

She's reckless, sure. But her courage is infectious. Something that would shape me later on in life.

Hazel loudly exhales before hopping into the shaft and clinging to the ladder, waiting for me to join her.

<To boldly go.>

I shake my head, gathering my courage. A nod gives her the answer she was hoping for before I step onto her shoulder to wrap my paws around her chest.

Let's do it.

The pungent odor grows more potent as we descend. An unmistakable aroma of death and decomposition saturates the very air we breathe, making me gag in abhorrence.

My heart stings as Hazel finally reaches the floor. A gut feeling tells me that we won't like whatever we're about to find.

Reluctantly slipping off Mom's back, I land on the cold ground right beside her with a thump. It feels wet. Muddy.

She reaches towards a belt strap, detaching a hefty flashlight off of it. Taking her time to brace herself before finally turning it on.

Long trashed crumbling hallway. The concrete walls look almost black from all the mold. The air is so moist its mere touch feels slimy, choked full of fungal spores and oil. The ground is flooded with liquid waste and grime.

It's barely furnished. A couple of half-rotten tables and dressers along with wall-mounted shelves stacked with chemicals and junk.

The tight, cramped tunnel splits into a handful of barred coops seemingly used to hold in the captures.

A drenched-out wooden Póke Ball stand near the exit seems all too empty. Its glassy cover is broken apart.

Disappointing. It looks like they took everyone they could. But maybe. Just maybe. There are still stragglers left behind in the cells. Fingers crossed.

The fetor of decay is almost unbearable. I try to pinch my nose to make it stop, but it feels like it seeps into my fur and saturates it. I'll never be able to forget this rancid stench.

Our steps turn into splashes. The condensate pools on the ceiling and drizzles down on the floor like a rain of sorts. Mixing in with crud and filth.

An incessant dripping sound echoes through the silent jail. It's maddening.

I grab my trainer's hand almost instinctively. She tightly squeezes it back. Bringing me some comfort amidst this hellish place.

<Oh no...> a faint whisper escapes her lips.

I peek out from behind her. The only thing I manage to make out is one of the cells. Bars covered under thick layers of rust, growing out of the iron like gnarled, jagged claws. A chain on the floor. A blood-soaked lash. And...

A silhouette curled up in the corner. Still. Motionless.

Hazel's flashlight points under our feet. Hiding the scene away, back into the darkness. Her palm covers my face.

<Don't look,> she sounds cold, unlike her usual self. Her voice is audibly cracking under the pressure.

Mom freezes. Trying to make sense of our situation.

<Why...> she softly utters to herself before, slowly inching forward. More tentatively than before.

As her flashlight turns to face the wall, the sight that it reveals before us doesn't look much more encouraging.

<Arceus...>

An old steel rack bolted to it appears to be decked with tools. Tongs, hammers, chisels, branding irons, little handheld saws, and blades. Tarnished, dull, and dirty. Some are still with dark brown stains on them.

No. I don't want to think about it. I can't. I feel dizzy.

But thankfully. We don't get much time to reflect. A chitter breaks the silence, followed by a rabid squeal. A snap of a rope being ripped apart.

Something jumps out of the shadows, slipping in between the bars.

A purple rat-like creature gnashes at my trainer's boot. It looks filthy, missing entire patches of its soapy coat. Dotted with festering wounds, scars, and blisters. Its eyes are frozen in an expression of perpetual dread, Insane with fear-driven fury.

Mom gasps as the poor thing tears open her shoe, darting back towards the wall to unleash a panicked, high-pitched squeal. To take aim.

It jumps.

Seems like we have no other choice.

Jerking into action, I try to shield my trainer from the critter, dashing between the two of them. Ready to take the hit.

It knocks me to the ground with unexpected brutal force. My back flops into the stinking sludge with a sickening squish, sending chunks of refuse flying.

The creature clanks its teeth in front of my face. Its breath is radiating heat steeped in the same stench of rot and sickness.

My paws struggle to keep it at bay until Hazel intervenes, pulling it off me by its stubby tail and throwing it aside.

<Stop! We aren't here to hurt you!> her voice sounds guilty and heartbroken. But it doesn't get through.

The creature is too far gone to understand it.

It jolts again. Attacking whatever it can reach.

I slam my fist into its face, leaving a faint scorch mark on it. Sharp aroma of burnt fur adds to the horrific atmosphere as the critter recoils in pain.

It screeches, but doesn't seem to be deterred. Determined to fight until the bitter end. Its snout twists in an expression of boundless madness. Its eyes are unable to distinguish friend from foe.

White foam peeks out from the corner of its mouth.

Poor thing. My heart bleeds for it, but I can't let it injure us.

It charges, painfully smashing me into the wall to return the favor. Kicking the air out of my lungs. Its desperation gives it much more vigor than it should have.

Cracked yellow claws start scratching at my neck in a frenzy. Leaving thin scarlet lines on my fur.

Mom picks up a crowbar off the floor and takes a swing, smacking the thing in the head with a dull metallic thud.

Quick thinking. She buys me time to react.

My paws latch onto the bars behind me for support. My whole body lunges forward, both of my legs straightening up. Launching the critter back with all the force I have.

It crashes into the tool rack with a meaty snap of bones, accompanied by the ringing sounds of steel appliances falling down on top. The whole content of the frame buries the critter under a pile of rust and iron.

The creature...

It seems like it stopped moving. A single twitch wrecks through its body before it goes still again.

Is it... Dead?

I finally let go of the bars, dusting myself off. Trying to wrap my head around what happened.

Mom looks at me as if she's about to say something, but words get stuck in her throat. The beam of her flashlight starts visibly shaking as she spots something behind my shoulder.

<Garnet, don't...>

I turn around. I shouldn't have.

So many of them. Piled up like trash on top of one another. Discarded into a half-buried hole in the floor. The source of this sickening stench. Furs of all colors stick out of the mud, soaked in muck and grime.

We're beyond asking ourselves why. The monsters that made this place their home are past any point of reasoning or explanation.

Insects disturbed by our presence buzz, taking off into the air and circling the pit in a rapidly growing swarm.

Buzz-Buzz-Buzz. Their murmur makes my stomach squeeze. Threatening to empty it.

Hazel turns away the flashlight. But the glimpse of this gristly sight is forever carved into my mind. Branding itself upon the canvas of my memories.

My knees give way. My eyes peer under my feet as I start having trouble maintaining balance. My head feels numb.

Mom kecks in disgust, barely holding back the fit nausea.

My fingers clutch the corner of a small and shabby table. I squeeze it as hard as I can to push the haziness away. The image seems to be imprinted in my brain. No matter how hard I blink, it doesn't go away.

It didn't happen overnight. It couldn't have been a murder committed in the wake of their retreat. They surely took their time judging by how badly some of them...

I can't. I shouldn't think about it.

Another wave of weakness washes over my body. My paws begin to shake. My vision's spinning.

Hazel tightly grips my arm. Her palm feels frigid with cold sweat.

<We're leaving,> her hoarse whisper sounds shattered. Her usual boldness went away without a trace. She's right. There's nothing left for us to save.

It's hard to stumble back onto my feet. My muscles are refusing. My shin trips over the leg of the desk, making it snap and force the table to lean over. Notebooks and old office supplies slide off into the dirt beneath my feet.

I let out a whimper. Still having a hard time to stand.

As the piece of furniture collapses, something wet brushes against my flank. Making my heart stop for just a mere second.

I see a peep of something green darting into the farthest corner of the hall.

<What...>

We both freeze. Hazel's flashlight swiftly turns towards the dead end. She grips the crowbar tighter, expecting yet another ambush.

It doesn't come as a few tense seconds pass. My heart pounds like a hammer against the anvil in my chest. Wondering. Waiting for the worst.

It seems like nothing's there at first. Another wobbly old dresser, barely holding up its weight. Until I notice the very tip of a swampy tail jerking back into the shade below. Struggling to conceal itself.

Adrenaline kicks in, pulling me out of my nightmare. I give Mom a look. Asking for permission to investigate.

<Okay. Just... Careful...>

Tilting my head in agreement, I tentatively take my step forward. It's quite. Deathly so. Only my heartbeat is breaking the cold dead air.

Another one. I strain my body, preparing for the creature to attack.

But it seems like this one is choosing hide-and-seek instead. So be it.

The stranger blends into the shadows almost perfectly, escaping our notice.

My fingers tap on my trainer's light source. She nervously sighs, passing it to me.

The flashlight looks comically large in my paws, almost half my size in length. I fidget with it before pointing the bulb under the dresser.

A pair of terrified pink eyes look back at me. Unblinking. Watching my every move.

A dull green feline figure covered in soot and ash reveals itself. It's almost unrecognizable beneath a thick layer of gunge.

It looks miserable. Malnourished. Thin as a twig. Covered in bruises and barely healed cuts. An R-letter brand marks its thigh, swelling with rampant infection.

<What did they do to you?>

Mom lowers herself down on the floor. Her face paints itself gray in sheer revulsion. She's taking her time to recollect her thoughts.

<Hey, little thing... Sprigatito, is it?>

The cat stays as static as a statue. Not daring to make a sound or respond. The corpselike limbs tense up. Expecting pain and torture. Something the feline is clearly used to.

The eyes. They are hopeless. Wrecked under the crushing weight of despondence. A single tear runs down its cheek. And yet it finds no strength to ask for mercy or compassion.

A suffocating feeling fills up my chest. I can't imagine what must have happened here.

I wish to help.

Can we?

<I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...> Hazel's voice comes out as a garbled mess. She bites her lip, trying to hold back the outburst of emotions. <We'll get you out of here, okay?>

The cat presses itself harder against the wall, freaking out over the loud human speech. It's face looks mortified. But there's just a small twinkle of confusion passing through. It must be thinking why haven't we hit yet.

<Shhh... No one's going to hurt you. I promise.>

It's dumbfounded. Still peering at us. The arched back lowers down slightly in sheer disbelief. It understands the words, but has trouble making sense of them.

Mom exhales, looking at this wreck of a being up and down. Tears well up in her eyes, but she maintains her voice as soft as cotton.

<It's a boy. Let's give you a name, shall we? We'll call you Jasper.>

I lean over, putting the flashlight on floor and showing my empty paws. Proclaiming that I'm not a threat.

As I move a little closer, my open palm extends towards him. Slowly. Not to alert our newfound rescue.

My fingers stretch out in an offer of assistance. Giving him some time and space to think.

A sense of protectiveness takes hold of me.

I won't let anyone bruise him again. Not after everything he has been through. I promise.

Please give us a chance. Please?

He looks hesitant. Scared at first. But something is stirring within. Something that was missing for such a long time. Hope?

The feline raises his quivering foreleg. Looking at it and then at me.

There you go. You're doing great!

He finally gathers enough confidence to lower it down on mine. Seemingly out of despair, clinging to me like his one and only lifeline.

Trust? Hardly. Desperation leaving him no other choice? Sounds more like it.

But we will make things right. I vow.

The hope still lives.

His paw pad is cracked. Brushing against my own like rough sandpaper. But it doesn't dissuade me. I respond in a language only one of my kind would understand.

"Friend..."