GastlyGibus
World's worst critic
- Joined
- Oct 27, 2013
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Rated T just in case. Violence and mild language may follow. Comments and criticism welcome!
Chapter One: Comfort in familiarity
"What solace lies in the arms of fate? The ill embrace of uncertainty? When did I leave this in other hands to be pulled down at chance?"
- Meshuggah, Straws Pulled at Random
The sun began to set, illuminating the city in it’s familiar orange glow, the reflection casting a brilliant line across the surface of the ocean. A gentle breeze carried the scent of the sea across the city of Castelia, the cawing of Wingull’s audible throughout.
In the city itself, the evening was when it became more lively, as citizens began to clock off and enjoy the rest of their night. Some chose to go straight home to their loved ones, to spend the night relaxing before the next work day. Others instead sought enjoyment elsewhere, and with Castelia being the populated city that it was there were many options to choose from. Numerous clubs, bars, and restaurants to pique the interest of both the residents and visitors, and tonight was just as active as any other. For Castelia, every night was an active one.
However, it was not all leisure and merriment for Castelia. For some it was another day to drudge through. Not just people, but Pokémon too. In the alleyways, on the side of a small diner, sat a lone Scrafty huddled against the wall near the dumpster. Here was where he made his home, complete with a large cardboard box he had found for himself as shelter as well as scraps of cloth he’d found lying about, for those particularly cold days. It was a meager existence, but the stray Scrafty had gotten used to it. He had spent many days here in this very spot, picking from the scraps of the food the humans threw away.
He sat beside the dumpster, hiding behind it so as not to scare away anyone. It always confused the Scrafty why humans would recoil in shock at the sight of a stray. Then again, he had developed somewhat of a reputation among the locals. “That stray,” they called him, the one that hung out near the back of the diner. At first the owners had tried to get rid of him; stray pokémon scrounging out of the dumpsters was never good for publicity, not to mention what might happen if he attacked the patrons. However, the Scrafty soon earned his place, particularly for chasing away the much bigger problem of the Trubbish and Grimer that loved to frequent the trashy areas of Castelia. He had made it clear that this was his spot, and nobody, not human nor pokémon, was going to take it from him.
The employees were uncomfortable at first with the Scrafty’s arrival. He would always eye them menacingly when performing trash runs, analyzing the contents of their garbage for any food that could be found. When the Scrafty began to chase away the more unsanitary pokémon, though, the employees began to welcome his presence. Sometimes even, if there was spare food, they would leave it by the dumpster for the stray. Surely some of the humans had contemplated taking him home, but despite their generosity, the Scrafty’s temperament made him an unfit addition to any home. Even with their gifts of food, the stray often reacted violently to anyone who got too close. So, the workers of the diner and the Scrafty had reached an unspoken compromise: the Scrafty would be allowed to stay and rummage through the trash, and in return, the Scrafty chased away would-be pests. They had co-existed like this for several weeks now, and it didn’t look as if things would change anytime soon.
*SHONK*
A heavy paper bag landed in the dumpster from a customer passing by, and immediately, the Scrafty leapt into action. With a kick of his foot he hopped off the ground, deftly grabbing hold of the edge of the container, dragging himself up and diving in. In moments, he had retrieved the bag, tearing it open to see if there was anything left.
“Humans are so wasteful,” the Scrafty muttered to himself. Inside he had found a half-eaten burger. Why anybody would throw away perfectly good food was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to complain. “Heh, more for me.”
He returned to his box near the side of the dumpster, quickly dusting the trash off his body before sitting down and hastily biting into his meal. He had already managed to snag some burnt bread the workers had thrown away, and a nearly untouched box of fries earlier still; not a bad day at all. Probably not the healthiest food, but it wasn’t as if the Scrafty gave it much mind. Any food was good food as far as he was concerned.
He took a bite of his food, turning to look down the other end of the alley, opening out into more city, with more people. How long had he been in this spot, anyways? Weeks? Months? He stopped counting a long time ago, and at this point, he didn’t care anymore. While certainly not the best living a stray could ask for, it was definitely a step up from the more destitute pokémon he had seen wandering around. He had chased away his fair share of beggars looking to mooch on his spot. He may have been homeless, but he was far from helpless.
As his gaze was fixed on the outside, he didn’t notice the small form that slowly approached from the other side. He felt a slight tug on his shed skin, jumping in surprise and turning to see a smaller pokémon. A Scraggy, same as he used to be some years ago.
“Excuse me, mister?” the Scraggy squeaked in a higher-pitched voice. The child looked young; no more than twelve, the Scrafty thought. “Do you have anything to share?” Rather than looking hopeless like the other beggars he had come across, this Scraggy almost seemed… happy? Her face bore a small smile, looking at the Scrafty expectantly.
“Buzz off, kid,” the Scrafty snapped back. Child or no, he wasn’t about to share with anybody. He was lucky enough to have found this spot on his own, and he wasn’t too keen on the idea of someone else taking his scant meals. “Go find your own.”
The Scraggy’s smile turned into a frown, clearly put-off by the Scrafty’s response. “Please?” she asked again, mustering up another smile, though a much smaller one this time.
“I said scram, kid,” the Scrafty replied again.
The child looked dejected, her expression growing sullen and her smile once again fading. “Oh… okay…” she said, turning back down the alley and leaving.
“Yeah, and good riddance,” the Scrafty added as the child left. He would have felt bad for the kid, maybe some time ago. However, he had learned a long time back to fend for himself; perhaps it was harsh, but he figured it better to let this girl learn that lesson early. She wasn’t the first one he had to chase away, and he doubted she would be the last. He looked down the alley, seeing the small Scraggy just as she turned the corner and walked away, her head hung low as she clutched her shed skin tightly. The Scrafty shook his head.
“She’ll be fine,” he assured himself. “Not like she can’t use her cutesy act on someone else.”
***
The following morning, the Scrafty was prowling the alleys, away from his usual spot. Unfortunately for him, the diner only opened later in the afternoon, which meant that his options for breakfast had to be found elsewhere. It was all standard routine for him at this point; he knew quite a few places that made fresh food in the morning. A city as large as Castelia had many choices, even for a stray. He could swipe something from one of them without anybody noticing, holding him off until the diner opened again.
He darted through the alleys. He had a destination in mind, and if he got there in time, he could get some fresh-baked bread…
“AHHHHH!”
Before he could reach his destination, a shrill scream resounded just around the corner. He tried to ignore it, but the voice began to cry out for help. The Scrafty sighed.
“Come on, man, who cares?” he thought to himself. “What’s it matter to you if someone else gets hurt? Better them than you, right?”
Despite his reluctance, the Scrafty couldn’t ignore the panicked yells. He ran down the alley, away from his destination, towards the sound of the screams.
Turning the corner, he saw a group of Meowths, led by a Persian, their backs turned to him. The felines had their attention focused on a small pokémon in the middle… the Scraggy from the day before.
“Help me!” the child cried out, pointing at the Scrafty. The Persian and his posse quickly whipped around, casting a devious glare at the onlooker.
“Well, well, well…” the Persian said with a grin. “Come to save the little girl, hm? How noble of you.”
“Hey man, I ain’t lookin' for trou-”
“Enough,” the Persian interrupted. “Boys, take care of the interloper.”
Before the Scrafty could speak, the Meowths began to pounce. One leapt straight at him, preparing his claws to attack. The Scrafty quickly threw out a punch, sending the cat sprawling away. The Scrafty dropped into a fighting stance, prepared to defend himself, as the smaller felines leapt at him.
“I just had to go investigate, didn’t I?”
The Scrafty fought off the smaller pokémon, one by one diverting their attacks and countering with his own. He was used to defending his own territory, and these normal type attackers were no different from the usual intruders he faced.
After beating down a good portion of the Persian’s underlings, the larger cat whistled, calling his posse back to him, seeing as the Scrafty was putting up more of a fight than he’d estimated. He turned back to the young Scraggy, who had taken to curling up in a ball on the ground, whimpering. “This one’s not worth the trouble,” he said sorely, turning back at the Scrafty and eyeing him angrily. “Keep your kid out of trouble, or next time I won’t be so merciful.” With that, the Persian turned to leave, taking his little gang of Meowth with him.
“She’s not my kid!” the Scrafty called back, eyeing the young Scraggy. She lay on the ground, curled up, keeping her eyes shut. When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself in the shadow of the Scrafty, looking down at her, an irritated frown evident on his expression.
“What are you doing wandering these streets all alone?” the Scrafty asked, nearly raising his voice. “Those stupid cats would have killed you!”
“I… I…” the Scraggy said sullenly. Between being attacked by a Persian and scolded by a stranger, the girl was frightened beyond belief. “I’m sorry…” was all she could manage, before breaking down into tears.
“Oh geez…” The Scrafty sighed. Just what he needed; a sobbing child to send him on a guilt trip. “Where are your parents?” the Scrafty asked. “A kid like you shouldn’t be out here all alone.”
The Scraggy tried to stop crying, managing shaky breaths to control herself. Eventually, she mustered the strength to speak again. “I… I don’t have any parents…”
“Fantastic…” the Scrafty thought to himself. He brought his hand to his face, shaking his head in disbelief. Just his luck. He sighed again in annoyance. “Look, kid… even still, you can’t be in the alleys by yourself.”
“But I… I don’t have anywhere else to go,” the Scraggy said, hiding her face behind her hands. She was afraid to say more, fearful of the Scrafty’s reaction.
The Scrafty rolled his eyes… if this kid was trying to fool him, she was certainly doing a very good job, though he could sense that she was being genuine.
“Get a hold of yourself!” the Scrafty thought. “Don’t be such a thin-skinned wuss!”
Try as he might, though, what little conscience he had was nagging him more fiercely than ever. What was he supposed to do? Leave this child all by herself, in these streets? She’d be killed for sure. Of course, strays got hurt all the time in these alleys. They weren’t safe, he knew as much. He looked down at the Scraggy again, her face buried in her palms, fearing a harsh reaction from the Scrafty.
“Get up,” he ordered. The child did as commanded, shakily bringing herself to her feet, clutching at the shed skin around her waist. He just knew he was going to regret this, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just left her to her own devices. “Follow me.”
“W-where are we going?” the child asked, slowly following behind him as he turned to leave.
“Just follow me,” he answered bluntly.
“O-okay, mister…” the Scraggy said, sniffling once as she walked.
“James,” the Scrafty said. “Just call me James.”
“Okay, James,” the Scraggy repeated. James let out an exhale of resignation, as the two began to head back to his make-shift home.
***
END
END
Had this idea while chatting with my friend DubiousRex and browsing pokémon pictures online. First chapter of, hopefully more to come soon, time permitting.
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