Chapter 1: Bullet Rain
Extension_Driver
Bug Catcher
- Pronouns
- he/him
transient shelter from the storm
The Exile - a banished slugcat - travels the ruined Hoenn land, fulfilling a request bestowed upon them by Professor Birch. Along the way, they dream of and finally runs into the Venator - their former victim, now respawned. The duo are forced to come to terms with the Great Cycle, and their opposing beliefs about forgiveness and death.
- This fic will contain references to death.
- CHANGELOG
- Chapter 1 revised and amended due to Spiteful Murkrow's suggestions below, as of 5/9/2023
- Chapter 2 revised and amended due to Spiteful Murkrow's suggestions below, as of 9/9/2023
The Exile trudged through mud and silt, using their spear as a cane. Slipping was a hazard that they would rather not get accustomed to – the last time it happened their pelt had become matted for two cycles straight. They stared straight ahead, the sigil of the Outlaw burned into their forehead.
Any place was better than their old colony. Crying was easy. It had been their coming of age ceremony yesterday.
A big festival, of course, meant for all the young slugcats of the village. They’d grabbed the other slugcats who were born that cycle and passed out gifts.
Closing their eyes, the events of a few days ago played in their head. They’d drunk a bit too much wine. Angry words, an arguement, the the head of a flashing spear.
The pained screams of death, dread, trial.
Banishment.
The Exile hung their head as they faced their parents. Outside the colony walls, they felt so small, so insignificant against the expanse of the mountain.
“You heard the elders. He’s gonna be kicked out, and there’s nothing we can do about it,” the male slugcat began. He smoothed down his salmon-pink pelt. “You’d better go; it’d not be a good look to stay when the verdict has been decided.” His voice was calm and understanding, despite the innate gruffness to it.
The Exile could only stare at their feet, unable to muster up even a simple response.
The other slugcat, dark brown with a noticable lilt to her voice, noddded. “It was an accident, and we know our son didn’t truly mean it. It’s okay.” Had any other being bothered to watch her, they might have noticed she was on the verge of crying. It was hard to blame her; only a parent could ever understand the pain of losing one’s child.
“No. You know how the elders are. Stubborn as fuck, that is. Come on. They’ll get suspicious if we wait too long.” The crack of disdain was starting to show. Just like his mate, he didn’t beleive the verdict was fair. But just as the elders had outlined, the verdict was final. Nothing could be done.
The brown slugcat watched her mate walk back. “I can’t leave you out there like this...” She held up a small, crude backpack.
A flash of recognition appeared in the Exile’s eyes.
“We’re not meant to give this to you, but... you might as well have it. It’s yours, anyway. Promise me you’ll stay safe out there.”
“How did you-” The Exile began to speak, but their mother cut them off.
“Doesn’t matter. They’ll think we set fire to the bag and all its contents; I’ll make sure of that.” A slight pause. “We’ll remember you, don’t worry.”
Upon noticing the tiny nod of the Exile, she handed over the backpack, and followed her mate back to the colony...
They sighed as the first drops of flood-rain fell, fear in their muscles and eyes pushing them forward. Reaching the old town was paramount before the next flood-cycle came--
Soon, their pelt began to sting from the impact force of the rain.
They had to hurry! Being crushed by bullet rain was not on their list of priorities. All the lights in the city were dark. As expected for the dead of night, of course.
Going under a porch would be a risky endeavor, despite their body being meant to squeeze through small gaps like a Kantoian Furret – despite their species being unable to make use of Moves in any capacity. Getting stuck or discovered would not bode well.
Around another house, they noticed one of the windows was left open. The sounds and scents of a sleeping human and their Pokemon wafted through. Explaining themselves to an on-edge human and their Pokemon would be something best avoided.
They sighed and turned to look around once more, heart leaping with hope upon seeing one of the buildings glowing with light, a little covered porch marking the entrance–
–and sank down to the planet’s core when they realized the doors had no visible opening mechanism.
The blurry lights from the other side of the frosted-door danced, taunting them. Hammering on it did nothing.
On the porch, the Exile curled up in a shivering ball, tears streaming down their face as the water inched ever-upwards.
Sleep claimed them as they waited for the end.
Professor Birch sat in his makeshift lab, hands in his face. What was he to do? Norman had once said his daughter was the absolute best Trainer alive – but after seeing her fail to stop the world from being flooded, he was less than certain.
Brendan... he was gone too. The thought almost made him want to scream. Why had he allowed this? Of course, being a Gym Challenger wasn’t strictly necessary for a research assistant, but Norman had insisted, it being a rite of passage after all – and one snap decision later, this was what it had come to.
The lawns of Littleroot Town had become a bog back then, squishing underfoot whenever one dared to tread on them. Hell, most of the Pokemon out back had been washed away by flood rain, never to return to their Trainers. He’d remembered the mildew that had began to show in the peeling walls of the lab years ago, when the apocalypse was just getting started. It reached just up to where his ankles had been. He shuddered. Thank the gods that the next storms in Lavaridge would not be that bad. Hopefully.
A banging at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. Trainers weren’t expected now. It was the absolute dead of night, where everyone was supposed to be asleep – and what person would hike here to this town They’d have had to come from the opposite direction, and with the situation in Fortree? Probably a refugee, if he had to guess.
With a sigh, he pressed the “door open” button – the automatic system had stopped working a couple weeks ago; he really should have gotten that fixed – and paused.
Raindrops, crashing hard as bullets, struck his face. Ouch. What was on the front porch was reddish-brown, but it was far from a package. He picked up the unresistant bundle and brought it inside.
It was a slugcat, upon closer examination. He’d initially thought it a wild Furret due to the extreme darkness outside; really, he should have gotten new glasses way, way ahead of time. Shaking his head, he peeled off the slugcat’s backpack and set it down near his desk, before carrying the slugcat into a side room containing a bowl of water and kibble.
The next objective was up; examining the creature’s possessions. Inside the bag were three simple items; a knife, some sort of waterskin, and a firestarter. All of them looked like the sort of craftship he’d seen in Fallabour; even then it was the only other functioning settlement for miles.
The knife, despite its simple construction of wood and steel, was razor sharp and crafted to a high standard. He noted the waterskin was nothing extraordinary, made of tanned leather and stitched with canvas thread. The fire-starter was noticeably simple in form; a simple piece of curved metal with a chunk of flint.
A beat passed. He’d neglected to pick up the other item at the front door. The darkness and rain made it hard to tell what it was, but he brought it in anyway. It was a sharpened stick, worked crudely into a spear. He left it leaning against his desk too, just in case.
Hopefully the slugcat wouldn’t freak out when it woke up.
The Exile groaned as they woke up, spotting the food in front of them. It smelled rather like wood shavings, but still... they were hungry after traveling so far.
They took a bite; feeling the food go down their throat. It felt like swallowing sand, and they almost gagged. Still the gnawing hunger pushed them to continue despite the odd taste. Before long, the food was gone.
The taste of sawdust and sand still thick on their tongue and throat, the Exile took stock of the room. Everything looked clean, unnaturally so, causing a few shivers to run down their spine. Chemicals and weeks of accumulated dust stung their nose, and they immediately huffed and sneezed in an unsuccessful attempt to force the scent out of their lungs.
The room; completely bare save for the food bowl and blankets, with a regular square tiling on the walls. A single door at the front marked the entrance. It felt.. wrong, really; with everything so orderly it felt like a machine. Back at the colony the houses had their own hand-built charm to them.
Movement from outside made them tense up.
Something was opening the door.
Birch cursed the creaking door as he pushed it open. He was glad to see that the slugcat had finished all the food, but noise was not a good thing when it came to living beings - Pokemon, slugcats, or otherwise. They were... unpredictable, at the best of times.
What he was decidedly less pleased about was the creature itself, with its bared teeth and hostile glare. Shit, he should’ve taken the spear. At least he’d be able to defend himself then, despite killing others being something he would never truly resort to.
He raised his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.” There, hopefully that was enough.
Wait; he probably had to introduce himself. “My name is Birch.” OK. THAT was better. Slowly now, he thought. He’d dealt with many angry Pokemon when out on fieldwork, once, long ago. Then, the Floods had come and made him de facto envoy to the slugcats by experience and circumstance.
Time to see if his actions would pay off.
The Exile hissed and glared at the stranger who’d came in. It was a human; with an odd scent about them. They took in the thin, graying hair, the slightly cloudy eyes and the shaky posture; this was clearly an older human from some time before the Floods.
Their tail twitched incessantly and their ears pinned back – ready to strike.
The stranger raised their hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
It took a few moments for the words to register, but their eyes widened slightly. Something was familiar about that voice, despite the passage of time from when they'd first heard it. Buried under the faint whiff of fear was a scent, long since almost faded like a forgotten dream.
“My name is Birch.”
Their ears perked up.
The stranger – no, Birch – spoke.
This is a ridiculous crack-fic of Rain World X Pokemon but taken semi-seriously. Also, a reference picture of The Exile is provided for your convenience!
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