Chapter 2

Author's note:

Hey everyone, we have officially started. Not much to say other than I've changed some things around as far as traditional lore. Also, technology in this time period is going to be a lot more subtle than flying cars and whatnot. There are planes and cars but when you can get a psychic pokemon to just teleport you somewhere, transportation technology becomes less important. Much of the advanced tech revolves around pokemon. With that said and without further ado, on with the chapter.

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I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. Apart from that, all I felt was the most intense and blinding fear I have ever experienced. My senses quickly dulled. The walls were a blur and I could not hear myself running, though I felt my feet impacting the ground. All I could think was "run. Run. RUN. I'm going to die. I'm going to die." My flight out of the room was characterized by erratic scrambling up the inclined dirt and then wild dashing with occasional glances back. I was able to escalate past the incline and turn to the right before the Gible ran up the incline and into the wall behind me. I kept running past the point when my lungs started screaming at me, completely oblivious to my pain.

I probably would have died in those tunnels if two miracles had not occurred. The first miracle was that I somehow managed to make my way back to the entrance. My mind was on autopilot and I remembered which tunnel to take at each intersection while sprinting through, giving each fork in the road little thought. The darkness mixed with the monotonous walls lacking detail and the erratic light from my flashlight shaking over the passages in front of me would have surely rendered me lost, but against the odds, I managed to remember my way.

The second miracle, and also the most important, was a classic example of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a miracle for me, but not for the poor little Diglett who happened to be showing its fuzzy brown head in the middle of the tunnel floor. Because of my frightened state, the instability of my flashlight, and the fact that the Diglett blended in perfectly with the brown tunnel, I did not see it. I tripped, kicking it in the head in the process and stunning it. In my terrified delirium, I did not even realize it was a different pokemon; I thought the Gible had tripped me and was about to devour me. So I did what any animal in distress would do in that situation; I started kicking. After a few seconds and about 15 kicks to the poor creature's face, I looked over to see what I was kicking and saw a bloody mess on the tunnel floor.

At that point my adrenaline slowed down enough for my sense of hearing to return, and I heard the Gible screeching and pounding down the tunnel. It was still hot on my trail and getting closer fast. I stood up and saw the Gible emerge from the darkness with the light of my flashlight. I started backing up to turn around and noticed its attention divert. The Gible's screeching stopped and I saw it dive at the deceased mole pokemon. I wasted no time continuing my terrified sprint out of the tunnels.

When I eventually emerged, I kept sprinting to the nearest tree and climbed it, knowing that the Gible's rudimentary seismic detection abilities could not sense me up in the tree. There I waited. It was around 3:30 in the afternoon and I waited until well after nightfall. The Gible never emerged, though I was sure that it knew where I had gone. During that time, aside from feeling scared, I reviewed my knowledge of Gible and the new information I had just gathered.

That Gible was enormous. For obvious reasons, I knew it had to be Kira's offspring, but the Gible was not delivered to my uncle in a pokeball. This would have to mean that she had given birth while on the reservation. Thinking about recent history, Kira started losing weight about two months prior, which would mean that she started feeding her offspring instead of herself. It might also explain why Kira went on a rampage when my uncle took her away from her baby for so long.

Gible are very clumsy, and more so when they are babies, which probably explained why it did not catch me earlier. The part that I could not explain was why it did not chase me out. After I accidentally killed the Diglett and the Gible stopped to eat, I do not remember hearing it chase me. I chalked it up to my detached psyche during my run, but the situation still did not sit right with me. The Gible could have eaten that Diglett quickly and resumed the chase but it did not, and that confused me.

I inwardly commended myself for the foresight of packing food after the ordeal because I was in that tree for several hours. During that time, I thought at length and by the time I gathered the courage to climb down, I had formulated a plan to catch the Gible. I grasped the Greatball around my neck as I ran home, growing more excited as I went. This was my chance; that Gible was going to be my first pokemon. The Gible's mother had just died and it was no more than 2 ½ months old, which gave me a unique opportunity to establish a need-based relationship with the dragon. Call it stupidity. Call it foolish. Call it whatever you want. I was going to do whatever it took to catch it.

I knew it would not be as simple as throwing a ball at it. Catching pokemon is a difficult endeavor, especially for more powerful pokemon. You have to throw a ball and it has to hit the pokemon for the digitalization process to trigger. Furthermore, the pokemon can break out during the first few seconds of capture if they are strong enough, so they need to be weakened beforehand. I knew I could throw well; that was not the problem. The problem was that the pokemon I was trying to catch was Kira's offspring! Beyond the fact that the Gible was a dragon, it was also birthed by a championship caliber pokemon. It would be difficult to pull off, but the Gible was a pokemon that I could respect as my starter, and it was one whose power I could be proud of training it to possess.

Unfortunately, as far as I knew, the dragon would not hesitate to kill me for food, simply for sport, or in a fit of emotional rage. In order to fix that problem, I would make sure it survived by providing food so that, at the very least, it would have a reason to let me near it. After that, I had the beginnings of a plan to catch the dragon. The first thing I had to do was to get a job, considering large amounts of meat were not cheap. I had been working with my father's ranch before Kira's rampage so that I could potentially take over when my father retired, but that was not an option anymore. In the end, I decided that I was not going to be picky about finding a job because it was essential for my plan to succeed. I started looking that very night, but I was not successful, and so I returned home.

I entered my house expecting to be chastised for making my my parents worry about me, however, instead I received no reprimand or punitive action. My parents did not even realize that I was gone for most of the day. My father had left for town to continue his search for a rebound business venture and to arrange his brother's funeral, while my mother had drunken herself to sleep in her bed at home. I felt alone that night and it was not comforting.

I went to bed and held back tears; tears for my imploding family relationship, tears for my father's misfortune, and, most of all, tears for my uncle. I held them back because those tears would not help anybody, myself included. This was what life had dealt me and I was going to take from it what I could.

I was awoken by another argument downstairs the next morning and I quickly dressed amidst the accusations of giving up and abusing the bottle. I knew our life had become much more difficult and I knew there were no easy ways to deal with it, but I could not stay and listen to them argue. I walked out of my room, down the stairs to the foyer and caught a glance at my mother sitting on a chair holding her head while my father stood above her, reprimanding her. I left quickly and made my way to town.

The road and grass had a layer of frost covering them and it was fairly chilly outside, so I brought my jacket with me. I walked the two miles to town in silence, gathering my thoughts, and decided to inquire about a job with a butcher for the potential to receive discounts on meat. Unfortunately, after I asked the butcher if he needed help, he replied with, "Sorry son, we're not hiring." Well so much for that. A job with the butcher would have been the best option, but fate had other plans.

I walked to several different stores but no one seemed to be hiring. It was then that I started assessing what skills I had which I could make money with and had an idea. I walked to the houses of several of the kids who played baseball with me. My idea was to offer my services as an off-season coach/trainer for prospective pitchers in return for a modest salary.

The first place I went to was the alternate pitcher who never got the chance to play because I never let him. He thought it was a good idea but he and his parents did not want to pay me. I then went to the alternate of the Junior Varsity freshman team and struck gold. The kid, Joseph McConnel, had the desire to play ball on a higher level and his parents had a bit of money. Joseph loved the idea and he persuaded his parents to pay me for my services. I asked for a modest salary with a couple Pokebucks over minimum wage, and I was even able to tack on a bonus if Joseph made varsity by the time baseball season started in six months, in April.

We started training that very day with a basic overview of the training regimen I would put him through and the exercises he would be required to perform alone after I left. It was a job that paid fairly well; 22 Pokebucks per hour. With practice twice per day during the week at two-hour sessions each and one practice per day on the weekends, I was making over 500 Pokebucks a week, which I assumed would be enough. I also had about 1100 Pokebucks in my personal account, so I had a good start.

After practice I headed back over to the butcher and actually looked at the prices of meat. I was astounded, having underestimated the price of meat. For half of a Mareep, I would be paying around 100Pb. I had initially planned on providing a diet consisting solely of purchased meat for the Gible, but after seeing those prices, I decided I would have to supplement the meals another way.

I had another idea and went to the trainer wilderness store to buy a composite bow. Firearms were illegal for civilians and only the military was allowed to use them. Even then, the Kanto military was small, so firearms were very difficult to find. The next best weapons to hunt with were bows.

The bows themselves had not changed much in the past few hundred years, save for a few add-ons you could buy, the durability of the materials, and power output. The ammo and carrying capabilities had also advanced. The bow I bought could collapse in on itself to fit into an area the size of my forearm, and the carrying case for the bow had a pouch for a box of ammo. The ammo looked like shotgun shells, except for when you gave them a small squeeze on each side, they elongated to a little over 2' and formed into arrows. They were made from a type of carbon metal alloy that was light and very durable, the arrowheads were the same material with a hollowed tip for poisons, and the feathers were made from Skarmory and folded in when collapsed.

I bought the composite bow, twenty rounds of ammunition, and a hunting knife, and then I went back to the butcher again and bought an entire live Mareep. I started heading back to my uncle's reserve, pulling the Mareep along, much to its annoyance. The Mareep was unruly most of the seven miles back to the reserve, which made it easier for me to grow excited for my plan. I was also a bit frightened, considering the amount of danger I was putting myself in. I went through every scenario I could think of in my mind, and then started to descend into the burrow.

Snag. I did not anticipate that the Mareep, an electric type pokemon, would refuse to go down into an earthen burrow. I mentally face-palmed and tried to pull the sheep down into the burrow with me. That only resulted in me receiving a shock when the Mareep got pissed, sending a small arc of electricity into my arm with a crackling pop. I had the radical idea of buying a pokeball, catching it, and then releasing it down in the tunnel but then dismissed it as a dumb idea since pokeballs were 100Pb and not reusable.

I sighed, knowing what I would have to do. I brandished my knife behind my back so as not to spook the Mareep and stood beside it. With as fast a motion as I could muster, I sliced Mareep's throat. I then tried to jump back immediately but the Mareep sent a larger arc of thunder at my chest which sizzled the air with a resounding crack and knocked me out instantly.

I awoke a little while later with a headache and a singed t-shirt to find the carcass of the Mareep some feet away, with a trail of blood leading to it. It was as if it had tried to flee before finally succumbing to blood loss. My head hurt and my limbs were numb as I stood up and walked over to the deceased Mareep. I felt slightly horrified at what I had done, but I figured that being ripped apart by a baby dragon would be more traumatic for it in comparison. I would have to learn to deal with pokemon in general in a similar fashion, considering the wilderness has its fair share of dangerous monsters that would try to kill me. I would have to defend myself, which would involve potentially killing wild predators, so I put my feelings of guilt at the back of my mind and tried to pull the Mareep down the slope.

Immediately, I was happy that I did not buy a Miltank, as it would have been impossible for me to drag it down. The Mareep was about 95lbs – fairly difficult to move, but not impossible. I dragged the body down the tunnels to the spot where the Diglett had tripped me, and by that time, my muscles ached and I had developed a hatred for Mareep. I thought for a moment and decided to create a verbal call that I would issue every time I was near to let the Gible know it was me. Then I decided against it, and instead, I took my knife out and hit the wall three times with the hilt, then I stomped hard upon the ground three times, and then I let out a long whistle. I listened, took a few steps back, and waited.

Time passed, so I repeated the rhythm. That time I heard a screech coming down the tunnel so I turned and ran out. I did not want to take the chance that the Gible simply lost interest in me last time and would kill me if he saw me again. When I emerged outside I checked my watch. It said it was 4:00 and I did not want to go back to the house, so I set up some logs to act as targets and started practicing archery.

The first day was worrisome; archery was much more difficult than I thought it would be. I left after about two solid hours of practice with my arms hurting, my drawing fingers blistered, and my other hand burned from arrows sliding along its top from bad shots. I headed home, still hopeful for my future. When I arrived at home, my father was absent and my mother was waiting for me. "Where have you been?" she asked.

I replied with, "Getting away from here."

"Where have you been going?" she asked in return.

"I got a job. I'm teaching Joseph to pitch for some money. That way you and father don't have to worry about me." I made sure that I did not sound pathetic; I did not want pity.

"You shouldn't have to do that. We will be alright. You should also know that your uncle's funeral is in two days at 2:00" She gave a half-hearted smile.

"You don't have to lie to me. I've heard the shouting. Making it easier on you two was not the only reason why I got that job," I said with a critical look.

She then said with a sigh, "Please don't do anything rash. This is not easy for your father and I. We're trying to make things better."

My anger peaked and I blurted out, "By drinking yourself under the table!? The only person you're helping is yourself."

"Stop this! You have no right to criticize me! We've given you a good life, so show some respect! Now go to your room; I don't want to see you anymore tonight!"

With a glare, I walked to my room. Maybe I had been too hard on her, but all I felt towards her was resentment. I had no problem with drinking, but she was choosing to ignore me and her problems, leaving those whom she cared about to deal with those problems alone. I thought it weak and I resented her for it.

After I shut the door to my room, I hid my hunting gear in my closet in my baseball duffel bag. Hopefully any prying eyes would not look for evidence there. After that, I put some medicine on the burn on my hand and then I wrapped my fingers with athletic tape to help them heal. That would have to do.

I waited in my room for an hour before sneaking downstairs. My mother was drinking in the parlor again, so, with a glare, I passed it by and headed to the cellar. I needed some special equipment and salvaged equipment from the ranch was kept down there. I looked around for a few minutes but I could not find the one thing I needed: the Ponyta tranquilizer and tranquilizer gun. That complicated things.

I decided that there were three possible scenarios at this point: my father and his employees had salvaged some tranquilizers and sold them, they had not found any tranquilizers, or the tranqs were destroyed. I knew they were some of the first things that would be sold, but I hoped it was not the first possibility. I returned to my room, put on some warm clothes, grabbed my knife and baseball bat, grabbed a flashlight and my backpack, and then climbed through my window.

Maybe traveling at night to visit the destroyed remains of the ranch was not such a good idea, but I had three things lingering in my mind, compelling me to act without regard to my personal safety: tranquilizers cannot be purchased by underage people without a trainer license or breeder license, during the day I might get caught, and I simply did not want to wait. The third reason was trivial, but I did not necessarily care. I set out on the cold road to the ranch with only a feeling of purpose on my mind, instead of caution.

I rejoiced inwardly when I reached the ranch after five miles, for it was a little spooky outside alone. The ranch was in ruins, with burnt stables where the stallions had been kept. The ground was upturned in many areas where Kira's earthquakes had rent the ground apart, making the ranch look like a war zone. The night was eerily silent at the ranch, save for the occasional caw of Murkrow.

I felt an incredible sense of grief, for I had known every steed we owned. Their bodies had already been moved and buried out in the pasture, so I did not need to worry about coming across any bodies. However, I needed to do what I came there to do fast; it was not a place where I wanted to linger. I hurried to the storage shed, which also lay in ruins. After a quick look around, I gave up. Of course the equipment shed will be empty. It's the first place they would salvage.

Walking around the ranch was creepy. It was getting cold but I felt the chill running down my spine more intensely than the weather. The ruined buildings creaked often and the Murkrow cawed in the stillness of the night. There was one other place I could look for tranquilizers: in the emergency kits inside the stables. More chills ran down my spine. I moved closer to the stables, being careful not to trip on the debris, and then I then heard a whinny.

I was so surprised that I stopped and waited. I then heard it again, coming from the Rapidash stables. I hurried forward. How could my father have overlooked a Rapidash? Maybe it had fled during the attack and wandered back… It might make things a little better for us if I brought back a breeding partner for Blazerunner. My father could restart his business! I crawled under a low, fallen beam to get inside the stables and the first thing I did was look for the emergency kit.

With an inner explosion of praise to any gods out there who could hear it, I saw the red and blue emergency duffel pinned under some debris. I cut it open with my knife, hearing the whinnying behind me somewhere. It was a disappointing find inside the bag, but not a total loss. The tranquilizer gun had been pinned and broken by the debris, there were multiple broken tranquilizer darts, and some of the bag had been burned. There were, however, three tranquilizer darts left and some pokemon potions.

I stashed what I could inside my bag and kept a tranquilizer ready, in case I needed to use it on the Rapidash. I walked around the stable and heard it coming from the very back. After taking a few minutes to navigate the upturned terrain and fallen debris, I came upon a closed stable door that looked slightly burned. It was dark on the other side, though, which was confusing considering Ponyta and Rapidash are perpetual light sources due to their ever burning manes of fire. This had to mean that the stallion was injured or dying! Why else would the light be gone?

I worriedly opened the door and came face to face with the largest pair of glowing green and white eyes I had ever seen. The chills racing down my spine intensified and only one thought passed through my mind, "GASTLY." Below the five-foot diameter eyes materialized a long slit that opened up into a wide and malicious grin. Regardless of what you know or think you know about pokemon, when you are surprised by one face to face, survival instincts take over and you cease to draw upon that knowledge in lieu of physical reaction. For example, I knew that Gastly are not as big as that Gastly appeared, I knew that they could project their image to appear larger and scarier, to paralyze their prey with fear, and I knew that they enjoyed messing with the minds of their prey. However, that knowledge did not keep me from feeling terrified.

Its grin intensified and opened wide, revealing sharpened teeth. Its pink tongue then lolled out, dripping acid which sizzled and steamed when it hit the wooden floorboards. I backed up spasmodically and hit the back of the stables, breaking through the compromised integrity of the burned walls before falling onto my back outside of the stables. The Gastly was above me in seconds, peering down upon me with its malevolent smile. It knew its prey had just made a fatal error and it was entertaining itself by watching its doomed prey lose all hope before attacking.

Its tongue hung over me and dripped acid onto my leg, burning through the jeans and scarring my thigh. Without thinking, in a fit of fear, I lashed out with the Rapidash tranquilizer and stuck the tip into the Gastly's tongue. It shrieked, which sounded like an odd and creepy mixture between an old lady's and young boy's scream. I crawled backwards as quickly as I could as it thrashed about and started towards me again. Right before it bore down onto me, though, its eyes drooped and it fell from the air into the ground. I leapt up and ran home as fast as I could without looking back.

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I practiced with my bow and I trained Joseph during the next two days, trying to make some progress with the bow and hoping that the full Mareep was enough to hold the Gible over until I was paid for Joseph's two days of training. When you practice so much with anything, you become better quickly without realizing it. The changes in my archery skill were subtle and after a little while, I found that my shots were rarely missing the target and inching ever closer to consistent Tauros-eyes. Even after just three days of practice, hours and hours of repetition eventually started paying off. I was getting more and more accurate with the bow, and soon I would try to hunt. Until then, the Gible still needed to eat, and before I could take care of that, I had a funeral to attend.

There was not a single dry eye at the funeral. My uncle may have acted without thinking occasionally, but he was sincere and friendly to all whom he met, awarding him many close friendships. As far as I was concerned, I had lost a friend and a source of inspiration and motivation. After the funeral rites were pronounced, I laid some flowers on his casket, and then headed back home to change clothes. By the time I changed my clothing, my parents had returned and retreated into the parlor. After I stole a quick glance and saw that they were both sitting quietly with glasses of Scotch in hand, I left and headed into town.

Two hours later, I arrived at the reserve with a new Mareep. I tied the Mareep to a tree and retreated about a hundred feet. I could have used my knife to kill it again, but I chose not to for two reasons: I did not want to get electrocuted again and I wanted to practice killing pokemon with my bow. It was not out of a sick desire to try new ways to kill; I needed to practice with my bow if I was going to rely on it in the wild. To do that, I needed to exercise my abilities whenever possible.

The first arrow sank into the Mareep's haunches, causing its back legs to slump. It immediately started bleating and let out an arc of electricity towards me with a loud crack, but the distance between us was too far for its thundershock to hit me, so I notched another arrow, cursing that I did not finish it in one shot. The second shot hit the Mareep squarely in the chest, taking it down. With a sigh of relief, I walked over and retrieved the two arrows. When I cleaned them off in the Mareep's wool, I received small shocks from the static, and then I began the task of dragging it down into the burrow.

I arrived at the same spot as before to find it empty and the ground a little torn up. I lay the Mareep down and tapped on the wall three times, stomped on the ground three times, and then whistled. I immediately heard a screech and took off again. I knew that I would have to repeat this process multiple times before I would be even slightly comfortable with waiting around. Back to archery training.

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Two weeks passed like this: every third day I would buy a Mareep to bring back after pitching practice with Joseph, then I would spend all of my free time practicing my archery skills. It was monotonous and tedious, but I could tell my skills were improving quickly. At the end of two weeks, I could consistently hit a Tauros-eye within 50 feet and I was fairly accurate at 100 feet. Then one particularly cold day, when I had killed a Mareep and had dragged it down to the feeding spot, I was given a frightening surprise.

After laying the Mareep on the spot, I performed the tapping/whistle routine, and instead of hearing a screech, I saw the Gible emerge from the darkness not 20 feet in front of me. Frightened, I slowly backed up about five feet, and then another five feet while the Gible moved up to the carcass, and just looked at me. I did not meet his eyes; that would have been very unwise. He stood over the carcass staring at me for what seemed like five minutes before tearing into the Mareep. I took that time to backpedal a ways before running out.

That event set the standard for the next few weeks. The Gible would always be waiting in the darkness where I could not see him, just outside of the range of the flashlight, and would then appear as I called. It was unsettling. The Gible was close enough to attack me if it wanted to, and I would probably not be as lucky as I was during my first escape. Luckily for me, he never tried.

With my archery skills showing promise, I started hunting, which allowed me to supplement the Mareep meals with an occasional Pidgey, Sparrow, or Sentret. They became scarcer as winter drew closer, but I was becoming more proficient at archery, rarely missing my target as the year progressed.

One day I decided to try something new. It might have been a little sadistic, but I wanted the Gible to get a taste of killing for itself. When I brought the Mareep into the reserve, I quickly removed the electrical bulb on its tail, which I had since learned severely handicapped Mareeps' electrical capabilities, and cut the tendons in its legs. I then dragged the bleating Mareep down into the burrow, until I arrived at the feeding spot. I called the Gible with the tapping and watched as he emerged.

It was at the moment when he emerged, that I decided on a name for him. I had figured out over the weeks that the Gible was male, and I knew that he was male for several reasons, according to the electronic articles I had read. The dorsal fin and bulbous horns on both sides of the head of males were more both narrower and sharper than those of females. The real giveaway was the coloration on the Gible's stomach. A male would have a darker shade of red than a female, and this Gible had a dark, blood red stomach.

The Gible had changed in the few weeks I had been feeding him. He had grown slightly larger and more muscular, though I was still taller than he. His scales had also darkened to more of a black like his mother, which differed from the dark blue of normal dragons of his species.

When he emerged from the shadows, stalking the crying Mareep with the light of my flashlight reflecting off of his black scales and his eyes giving a fluorescent glow, he looked to me like the angel of death. That was only reinforced when he leapt forward, latching onto the crying Mareep's head and biting it off before tearing into the rest of the body. On my way out, the perfect name for him hung in my mind: Azrael.

During the following couple of weeks, I started staying with Azrael as he ate, watching as he would devour his prey. After he finished, he would look at me for several minutes and then lumber off clumsily down the tunnel. Progress.

It snowed two weeks later. Viridian City generally received two-three inches of snow per storm, so the two inches that fell did not come as a surprise. Although there were not many Pidgey around this time of year, I had found a much bigger and better target. Stantler had been everywhere but I did not have the courage to attack one, given that they had been known to kill hunters with their psychic powers. Those abilities would be problematic, and therefore, I would have to study them and make every shot count when the time came.

After seeing one for the first time, I researched them more in depth to gain a better understanding of them. I found that they will choose to run before fighting, but they will fight when they feel that their lives are threatened. I also found that their horns are valuable for medicine, and the black orbs on them that channeled some of their psychic ability can be used for tranquilizers when ground up. Almost every part of them was valuable, from their use for food to their price in putting them up for sale.

The first time I hunted a Stantler could have gone much worse, which made me feel that it was a good experience. I had quietly followed footprints in the snow until I came across a solitary Stantler grazing on some grass that had not been covered by the snow. I notched an arrow and shot. The arrow sailed through the air and hit the Stantler right underneath its heart, missing the vital organ, but puncturing a lung. The Stantler went down after a few minutes of sending psychic waves to my head, which caused me to believe that I was in a boiling volcano, burning to death. That kind of trauma to my head could have been fatal if endured for too long, but it only lasted a minute or so, so I recovered quickly and found my ears bleeding. When I awoke from my trance, lying in the snow, the Stantler had finally succumbed to death's embrace, and I rejoiced in my accomplishment.

The Stantler was significantly heavier than the Mareep, but that meant there was more food for Azrael. As such, it took a long time to drag it all the way to the burrow, and then down into its depths, but once I did, I was rewarded with a squeal of delight from Azrael before he dug into the large deer. When Azrael was done, instead of walking away, he walked up to me. I froze and let him approach, making sure I did not make any sudden movements. It stopped about two feet from my face, opened its mouth a little, and then bit me on the shoulder quickly before running off into the tunnel.

I was left standing with a bleeding shoulder and a perplexed look on my face for several minutes, pondering what had just occurred, and I later came to the conclusion that it was an appreciative nip. More progress! I was able to make a lot of extra money selling the antlers and the orbs from the Stantler, almost matching a week's wages for each set of orbs and two weeks' wages for each set of antlers. This allowed me to afford more Mareep and also to have some money in the bank.

I was easily able to hide my shoulder wound from my parents, considering they had been busy too often to take notice of the things I was doing. Although I understood that they had responsibilities to take care of, I resented them both for ignoring me after spending so much time making sure that I could not follow my dream of becoming a pokemon trainer. Even though I was fairly self-sufficient at that point, my parents had a responsibility towards me, and I felt like they had simply forgotten about me.

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The most progress between Azrael and I came on a Saturday in the middle of January when I arrived at the reserve to see footprints leading out of the burrow. Upon closer inspection, I found that the footprints were much too small to be Azrael's footprints, and they were heading into the burrow. They also seemed fresh, so I hurried down to the feeding spot, with a Pidgey in my hand, to find Azrael absent. I ran down the tunnel to where his little cave was, and started hearing two different pitches of screeching. I dropped the Pidgey and drew my bow, taking out four arrow cartridges before reaching the small cave and shining my flashlight inside.

The light from my flashlight shone upon Azrael cowering in a corner with a Sneasel dancing around him, lunging in and out with its claws. The Sneasel was leaving icy streaks where it sliced Azrael, which were especially effective against dragons. I notched an arrow and aimed it at the Gible's attacker. The arrow hit the Sneasel squarely in the lower back, and it turned around with a hiss behind its sharp feline teeth and started hobbling towards me, its bladed hands raised menacingly.

I notched another arrow and it let it fly, but the arrow sailed over the Sneasel's head and embedded itself in the opposite wall. My fear of this little monster was affecting my shots, so I quickly notched another arrow and took my time - what little I had left before the Sneasel reached me and gutted me - before I released it. The arrow sped through the air and hit the Sneasel right in the chest, and it fell backwards with a thud. I rushed forward and squeezed the last cartridge in my hand, making it expand into an arrow, and stabbed it down into the creature without using the bow. I then withdrew my knife and finished the job.

I looked up at Azrael, still in the corner and shaking. I took a step closer to him and he hissed, warning me not to come closer, so I backed up to the entrance and grabbed the discarded Pidgey. I then returned and retrieved all the used arrows from the dead Sneasel before offering the Pidgey to Azrael. He limped over after a couple minutes and I set the Pidgey down on the floor. I moved around to his side and looked at his wound, finding three red lines running down his thigh with icy particles stuck inside. I went back to the Sneasel and cut off its hands, and then I looked at Azrael and said, "I will be back soon. Stay here, if you can understand me."

Why I thought it was reasonable thing to say, I do not know, but I wanted to communicate with him and let him know I was going to help. I ran out, with the two Sneasel hands and continued on as fast as I could all the way to Viridian City. I arrived at a PokeMart, which had kept its name out of tradition over the years, heaving and breathless. I bought two basic potions and an ice heal, which took a chunk out of my savings, but it was worth it.

I then started running back. I am not sure how long the entire trip took, but then again, I do not know when I have ever run as fast before. I arrived back at the reserve and ran down to Azrael's den to find him curled up and shivering. I made the call at the entrance of the den so that I did not startle him, and then I walked over to him, took out the ice heal, and sprayed it on his wound. If I had not created what little relationship I had with him, and if he had been a little stronger, he probably would have bitten my head off. However, in his frightened and weakened state, he just screeched and glared at me.

The ice heal melted the ice particles and Azrael's body temperature started rising. I then sprayed the basic potion on his leg, quickening the healing. I am not sure how the creators of these potions were able to do it, but I always wondered why they could not make something similar for humans beyond using Chansey eggs, which would be immensely helpful. I then noticed the dead Sneasel still lying on the floor, went over to it, and grabbed its legs, dragging it over to Azrael.

He perked up before chowing down on the corpse, seemingly happy to wreak hungry vengeance upon his attacker. I then made a choice: I went over to the other side of the den and sat down against the wall. I waited there completely aware of the Gible's gaze fixed upon me. After an hour, Azrael must have realized I was not leaving because he stopped watching me and went over to the other side of the den, dug around until he created a nice bed for himself, and then lay down. During that time, I used my knife to clean off as much flesh from the claws that I could, leaving the bones and the claws, for the purpose of selling them later. I eventually fell asleep, having turned the flashlight off when I grew tired.

It would look like another foolish decision on my part for anyone looking in at the situation, however, I was worried about that dragon and I wanted to make sure that he did not have any other problems. I still had one potion left and I was prepared to use it because he was hurt. It may have been foolish, but it was one of the most significant bonding moments I had with Azrael, in retrospect.

I awoke some time later, still physically intact, and I could actually hear Azrael snoring. Interesting. I had no idea dragons could snore. I turned on my flashlight while pointing it at the ground, stood up, gathered my things, and then went over to the entrance of the den. I tapped out the call, hearing Azrael stir, and then shined my flashlight onto the ground in the middle of the den so that it wouldn't startle him.

I said, "It's time for me to go. Don't worry; I'll be back with food later." I then started walking out. I heard movement behind me as I walked down the tunnel but did not think much of it, though I kept alert. It was only when I was near the entrance of the tunnel, and I could still hear the movement behind me, that I turned around. Azrael had followed me to the entrance of the burrow and was eyeing me curiously. I continued walking up the slope until I was standing in the cold night air, at which time I checked my watch, finding out that it was 3:00 in the morning. If my parents noticed or cared, they would probably be worried sick.

I did not leave immediately though, since Azrael followed me outside. Instead I observed him as he looked around, snarled at the snow and let out a small jet of blue fire, melting the snow around him. I watched him wander around for an hour sniffing things, biting trees, and melting snow for about ten minutes before he finally waddled over to me. He looked at me for a few seconds and then bit me again on the same shoulder as the last time, drawing more blood. He quickly ran down into the burrow immediately afterward. I smiled and walked home.

I climbed through my window and went to bed after cleaning off the remaining flesh and blood from the Sneasel claws in the bathroom sink. In the morning, I received no lecture or recourse for being gone most of the night since my parents were busy again. At that point, I did not care as much, seeing as how this behavior had continued on for so long, and I would be on my own soon enough anyway. I walked to town for practice with Joseph and when I finished, I went to the PokeMart where I was able to trade three of the four Sneasel claws for three pokeballs. I now had three extra pokeballs, just in case I needed them, for when the time came for me to begin the next phase of my plan.

Throughout the next couple weeks, Azrael would venture outside of the burrow when I was present and explore the area while I practiced my archery. I would talk to him constantly, even if he could not understand me. He would also accompany me when I hunted, though I never allowed him to participate in the hunt, if I could help it, and the winter passed fairly quickly.

The snow eventually stopped falling, the temperature started rising, and Pidgey started appearing in greater numbers. My parents had sold our house for a smaller house closer to the city with a couple acres of land, and I had purchased a bike to help me travel faster. Both Azrael and I had grown a little, leaving me taller than him. However, the most significant change that occurred by the end of winter was that Azrael had started letting me touch him. He would allow me to run my hand along his fin, feeling the scales and ripples of his muscles, and I even suspected that he enjoyed it.

By the time the end of February rolled around, I was ready to initiate the next part of my plan. It was not going to be easy and there was a chance that I might get myself killed, but the risk was worth it. I packed my bag with the Rapidash tranquilizers, a first aid kit, and food before I set out for the reserve. When I arrived, Azrael was standing outside of the burrow waiting for me; our custom by that time was to go hunting for a few hours when I arrived before practicing my shooting. I stopped my bike, dismounted, leaned it against a tree, and took out my bag.

I walked over to Azrael after taking out a tranquilizer dart and pocketing the marble-sized pokeballs. I also unstrung the Greatball from my neck and pressed the button that made it grow to full size. I carried both the tranquilizer and the Greatball over to Azrael, who was watching me expectantly. I stopped a few feet in front of him and dropped the Greatball to the side before I walked up to him and ran my hand along his fin. I then said, "Don't think too badly of me. I think we have a mutual belief that we are partners, and I believe we will grow to overcome the world, but I'm the one giving the orders." As I said the last sentence, I plunged the tranquilizer into Azrael's arm.

I immediately jumped back and rolled to a crouch, Azrael screeched and turned on me with an angry, betrayed look in his eyes, and he took a step forward before faltering because of the tranquilizer's effects. I knew the tranquilizer was not strong enough to put him out, but that was part of my plan. I needed to show him that I was in command; I needed to establish dominance. When Azrael faltered I jumped around to his side and caught his arm. I used his arm to pull myself around to his back, like I had learned in wrestling. I then hooked my other arm underneath his other arm and pulled them both as hard as I could.

Azrael was stronger than I, but he was also drowsy and weak from the Ponyta tranquilizer. He struggled to fling me off his back but I was able to hold on as he wore himself out. He thrashed for five minutes straight, and it reached the point where I thought I would pass out from the strain of holding on before he gave up.

After those five painful minutes, Azrael finally collapsed onto his knees, and I used what strength I had remaining to pull his arms together behind him and pin his face to the ground. I then bit his shoulder hard for effect as I held him down. Azrael struggled and struggled and I just held on as strongly as I could; I just needed Azrael to wear himself out. He tried burrowing but the endeavor was pointless without the use of his arms. He finally stopped after a few minutes but I did not let up; I was not going to take the chance that he was bluffing.

It turns out that my precaution paid off, for after half a minute, he vigorously renewed his fight. I matched his efforts and kept him down until I felt his muscles start to spasm. Sensing the sincerity of his weakened state, I quickly jumped off of him and scrambled to reach my Greatball. I then hurled it as hard as I could at Azrael's center of mass. The ball hit him hard and he burst into red and white light, before disappearing inside the ball. I watched at a distance with another pokeball at the ready as the Greatball squirmed and wiggled. After ten long, nerve-wracking seconds, the ball stopped moving.