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Story link here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/20569796/
Several years ago I was massively into the original pokemon games, in particular Yellow version as it was the one where you could play with a Pikachu. And I’ve always been so disappointed that none of the later games ever offered the option of letting even one pokemon outside their ball to fallow you around, let alone the cute animations and seeing your Pikachu respond to you and express emotions at you like a Tamagachi.
The first time I ever fought against the Elite four in Blue Version, Generation 1 games mind, I was blown away by how close, how visceral and thrilling one of the early match ups was. Attacks that missed and landed, a Pikachu with Dig and Mega punch facing off against an overwhelmingly strong opponent. In my mind’s eye I could just imagine the scene playing out as if I were watching a movie, each blow for blow moment a tense struggle to hope my tiny mouse wins.
Even today I still remember that thrill, the play by play moments, in vivid detail. So in the spirit of Pokemon Go’s massive appeal, bringing us one step closer to actually walking down the street and getting into a pokemon battle with a random stranger, I felt it was time to write and release this.
Enjoy.
_____
It was dark and warm, never too hot but always straying from the cool of winter. Hard to move, but I had already resigned myself to sitting still once the ball had locked down. That first moment, struggling three times with three mighty shoves, only to fail on the last try and end up locked inside forever. There was no need to eat, as if the energy of the ball was enough to sustain me. No need to breathe either, things were so slow and so and so distant at times I wondered if I was even capable of thinking. It was possible to see outside, just a little bit, through the red and white tint of the metallic prison. The visuals were distorted and the sounds were muffled, but I could tell when something was about to happen.
I supposed this prison wasn’t forever after all, when I heard my owner say those fateful words.
“Pikachu, I choose you!”
The thunderous shout from above, the sudden vertigo as my almost stable surroundings were hurled forward at speed. The sky and ground, no, the roof and floor danced with each other through red and white as my entire world decided to spin. The ground came closer and the roof receded away, but I never had to brace for impact. I rarely did.
My appearance was sudden as it was pleasant, the air was even warmer when I could actually fill my lungs. Yellow feet planted into the packed dirt, the grime pleasant on bare paws. My lightning bolt shaped tail twitched once, and I stumbled forward into a lower stance. The sensation of gravity always felt new and unwelcome upon first release. I could hear things, clearly and in focus since I was last forced to battle. The rapidly beating heart of the young child behind me. The steady breathing of a muscular adult man just in front. The metallic clicks and grind underneath my feet, the machinery just beneath the foot or so of packed dirt and painted lines waiting for the match to be over so all can reset.
“Go get-em Machamp, this will be a wash!” the voice was deep and melodious, especially so to my black-tipped ears. I saw another ball flung into the arena, spinning and spinning and spinning until it just decides to come to a stop. Not even bothering to land first the ball opens, a red splurge of light and plasma gushes forth. The red thickens and tightens, reshaping itself as it always does, until a towering four armed behemoth in a muscle shirt stands before me.
“MACHAMP!” an even deeper voice bellows. Tightly packed muscles bulging with ever moment. Two of its arms lift up overhead, not even halfway to the distant ceiling, the other two arms pound rapidly against its abdomen while the Pecs flex and twitch. The metal from his belt glints in the beaming headlamps.
I say nothing.
The smell of sweat and musk is clear to me suddenly, patches of foot smell scattering the room and emanating from the human before me. The enemy not ten feet away almost smelled like a mix between human and stone, and it’s movements seemed to be slowed and constrained by having to squeeze through its own bulk.
“Pikachi, use Mega punch!” I heard the shout from an exceptionally young boy, his hand flared dramatically and directing me towards the wall of arms and muscle.
I didn’t hesitate. The badge compels me, and I’d always managed to gain more power through his instruction.
“Machamp, use Karate chop!”
A leap, throwing myself forward. The left palm extended forward to guide my way and the right fist coiled in preparation to strike. I saw the monster lift one of its center arms up and extend the fingers, but it was slow. Too slow. It had simply opened up it’s chest for me, my tiny fist slammed hard against the solid, iron-like muscles that tried to flex with the impact. My feet braced into the creature’s belt, and with a twist I spun around and leapt away.
Pain! So much pain! The lash of a whip down my spine, an iron bar being smashed into the small of my back! It was everything I could do to keep from screaming through the gritted teeth, a critical hit that instantly knocked me down to less than half health. My face smashes into the dirt, dust smears onto my cheeks, and I can feel the throbbing ache above my tail where ridged fingers harshly assaulted. Staggering onto four paws and turning my head, the Machamp seemed mostly unphazed by my own assault. Five more blows could finish him, but I would be lucky to withstand two if he gets another crit.
“Pikachu, use quick attack!”
“Machamp, use Karate chop!”
Again there was no hesitation. No delay for my well honed physical ability. A handstand on my front paws, kicking off with one leg to orient myself and aim for the target, then a darting run. A leap that leaves me low to the ground but flying forward, touching down only to change direction or angle as I zipped along.
Zigzag to the left and right, watching the almost ponderous fighter type trying to line up his fists for the inevitable counter. Staring directly at me.
My feet were planted against his face before the poor thing could even blink, and with a twirling backflip I leapt away over his head. Not about to give him another opening to hit me from behind I made sure I was facing him the entire way down, even when upside down or twirling with all the majesty of a yellow rodent my eyes were on him.
The open palm swipes downward in a chopping motion, the fighter has his eyes closed and is blinking from the startling, if minor damage. He doesn’t even come close.
“Machamp, use Mega punch!”
“Pikachi, use Thunderbolt!”
No time. No time to think, no time to question, just listen to the commands and obey without thought. My feet plant into the ground and I hold both paws in front f me, a wide stance while the tiny fingers phantom holding something between them.
The massive four armed behemoth crunches forward, his heavy feet leaving deep imprints into even the tightly packed soil, two of his arms held forward to defend while the other were rearing back to strike.
Timing myself. I waited until he was only a few feet from me, stairing down with that lopsided grin and swinging a fist so quickly it glowed white-hot before the impact. I threw myself up and backwards, always facing him, watching the sand splash away from his closed fingers and the devastating attack land harmlessly beneath my feet.
My paws flicked out in an upward slicing motion, and with a deafening crackle and the burning sparks of lightning a thin, blade-shaped bolt of the yellow-blue energy impacted against the beast’s chest and slid up towards the face. Leaving burns and welts from the abdomen to its chin, the grin twisting into a pained grimace.
“Machamp, use Seismic toss!”
“Pickachu, use Mega punch!”
But the fighter type didn’t stagger, and like me he didn’t falter. He was injured, he was battered, and like me it felt as if one lucky blow could determine the winner. Already at close range the moment I landed I rushed forward on two paws, spun once while coiling my arms back, and aimed a backfist directly into the creature’s kneecap.
The thudding splat of meat on meat, the fighter’s leg is pushed backward and he drops onto one knee from the pain. But he was tough, he was hard, and he was neither down nor out at the rate this was going.
My face was suddenly mashed into the ground and I could feel cold, iron thick fingers wrapping around my neck. Squeezing painfully as they tear me away from the soil and swirl me through the air. The overhead lights, the roof, the painted floors, the stupid grin on this fighter’s face, all swirled past me in a rush of sound and color until they merged into a faded blur.
The crunch of my chest, my chin, smashing hard into the ground for a third time this fight was what shook me out of it. The four-armed monster having snatched me up, spun me around, and then hurled me downward with a skillful toss. I was hurt, barely conscious actually, but even through this pain I could still fight.
“Machamp, use Mega punch!”
“Pikachi, use Dig!”
I could see him coiling that fist, watching the energy glow with a cackling radiance. I buried my head in the sand, then instantly buried the rest of me, clawing and tearing through even the thick dirt and crumbled stone with panicked accuracy. A burrowing mouse now digging for his life to get as far away from danger as possible.
An explosion. A shockwave. I could feel the impact of that strike vibrating through the dirt and jostling my bones, the redish welt on my back where the previous direct hit landed. The other pokemon couldn’t get me, not from down here, but I had to leave soon before lack of air in the dark tunnel was problematic.
“Machamp, use Focus Energy!” I hear the shouting. My trainer says nothing, he can’t really. And he doesn’t have to.
Obeying the previous command, ears twitched to locate my target through the topsoil, I crunched and crunched against dirt and stone at an upward angle. Another explosion, sudden light, dazzling sounds, the brief image of an intensely focused fighter with his eyes closed. Dropped onto one knee as his arms are coiled back.
Dirt and stone sprays from my arrival, my skull bashes into the creature’s rock hard abdomen, and as yet another painful looking bruise appears on the creature he is just as capable of continuing the fight as I was. One harsh breeze away from total collapse. But with his energy focused he had an even greater chance of a critical strike than normal, now compounded with the fact Karate chop already has a higher than average likelyhood of landing that perfect blow.
It wasn’t hard to figure out what comes next.
“Machamp, use Karate chop!”
“Pickahu, use Mega punch!”
Devastating or not, accurate or not, through such tightly packed muscles he could never move fast enough to keep up with me. And all of his movements were predictable. A simple jump forward, a frontflip just in front of the beast’s face. His head was the size of my entire body, and on his knees, prepared to destroy me, I could still see this stupid grin on the big lipped face.
My fists swings downward onto the top of his skull, a tiny paw glowing white with the overwhelming speed and power being put on display. The sound of meat slapping against stone, the clack of teeth crunching together as it’s grin turns to gritted pain.
From his knees to his stomach my attack threw this fighter to the ground and I was left to tumble down it’s back. Landing in a low crouch and breathing heavily, waiting for the next command, the next attack.
Dust clouds settle on the arena. No attack comes.
I was breathing heavy. My face hurt, my back hurt, my paws felt like they were bleeding. Looking over my shoulder it was clear the match was won. A towering behemoth of a fighter lay flat on its chest and the eyes were a swirling spiral, unconscious before both trainers.
Without so much as a pout of disappointment the enemy trainer raised a pokeball and a thin red line shot out. The monster I’d been pitted against dissolved, spread into a red and white glow, and then vanished back inside his own small prison.
“Onyx, I choose you!”
Nothing so much as fanfare, or a complement, or even a moment’s respite. The entire process repeated itself with a snake, no, a mountain, of stone and iron and dangerous looking eyes materialized before me. Three times as big as the fighter. It’s spiked crown all but touching the ceiling while it’s sinuous body looped around the dirt behind him.
In the back of my mind it was a terrible fear, a tingling desperation worming through my bones at the prospect of actually fighting this thing. My lightning would be useless, my fists would bounce off the hard stone, and a single blow is all it would take to break me. Outside for the world to see, I stood up in bold defiance. Trying to hide the way my knees were shaking, remaining absolutely silent lest there be a hint of quivering in my voice.
“Pikachu, Return!”
And with those words the world faded into red, then further into black. My injuries no longer hurt, but they didn’t heal either. I could hear fumbling, the clank of metal on metal, and saw a distorted glimpse of my owner throwing another ball.
My job here was done. With nowhere to move, nowhere to go, nothing but my own suspect thoughts to pass the time, I sat still and waited.
Patient in the knowledge I would be needed again, to try my fist and my thunder against the next opponent.
Several years ago I was massively into the original pokemon games, in particular Yellow version as it was the one where you could play with a Pikachu. And I’ve always been so disappointed that none of the later games ever offered the option of letting even one pokemon outside their ball to fallow you around, let alone the cute animations and seeing your Pikachu respond to you and express emotions at you like a Tamagachi.
The first time I ever fought against the Elite four in Blue Version, Generation 1 games mind, I was blown away by how close, how visceral and thrilling one of the early match ups was. Attacks that missed and landed, a Pikachu with Dig and Mega punch facing off against an overwhelmingly strong opponent. In my mind’s eye I could just imagine the scene playing out as if I were watching a movie, each blow for blow moment a tense struggle to hope my tiny mouse wins.
Even today I still remember that thrill, the play by play moments, in vivid detail. So in the spirit of Pokemon Go’s massive appeal, bringing us one step closer to actually walking down the street and getting into a pokemon battle with a random stranger, I felt it was time to write and release this.
Enjoy.
_____
It was dark and warm, never too hot but always straying from the cool of winter. Hard to move, but I had already resigned myself to sitting still once the ball had locked down. That first moment, struggling three times with three mighty shoves, only to fail on the last try and end up locked inside forever. There was no need to eat, as if the energy of the ball was enough to sustain me. No need to breathe either, things were so slow and so and so distant at times I wondered if I was even capable of thinking. It was possible to see outside, just a little bit, through the red and white tint of the metallic prison. The visuals were distorted and the sounds were muffled, but I could tell when something was about to happen.
I supposed this prison wasn’t forever after all, when I heard my owner say those fateful words.
“Pikachu, I choose you!”
The thunderous shout from above, the sudden vertigo as my almost stable surroundings were hurled forward at speed. The sky and ground, no, the roof and floor danced with each other through red and white as my entire world decided to spin. The ground came closer and the roof receded away, but I never had to brace for impact. I rarely did.
My appearance was sudden as it was pleasant, the air was even warmer when I could actually fill my lungs. Yellow feet planted into the packed dirt, the grime pleasant on bare paws. My lightning bolt shaped tail twitched once, and I stumbled forward into a lower stance. The sensation of gravity always felt new and unwelcome upon first release. I could hear things, clearly and in focus since I was last forced to battle. The rapidly beating heart of the young child behind me. The steady breathing of a muscular adult man just in front. The metallic clicks and grind underneath my feet, the machinery just beneath the foot or so of packed dirt and painted lines waiting for the match to be over so all can reset.
“Go get-em Machamp, this will be a wash!” the voice was deep and melodious, especially so to my black-tipped ears. I saw another ball flung into the arena, spinning and spinning and spinning until it just decides to come to a stop. Not even bothering to land first the ball opens, a red splurge of light and plasma gushes forth. The red thickens and tightens, reshaping itself as it always does, until a towering four armed behemoth in a muscle shirt stands before me.
“MACHAMP!” an even deeper voice bellows. Tightly packed muscles bulging with ever moment. Two of its arms lift up overhead, not even halfway to the distant ceiling, the other two arms pound rapidly against its abdomen while the Pecs flex and twitch. The metal from his belt glints in the beaming headlamps.
I say nothing.
The smell of sweat and musk is clear to me suddenly, patches of foot smell scattering the room and emanating from the human before me. The enemy not ten feet away almost smelled like a mix between human and stone, and it’s movements seemed to be slowed and constrained by having to squeeze through its own bulk.
“Pikachi, use Mega punch!” I heard the shout from an exceptionally young boy, his hand flared dramatically and directing me towards the wall of arms and muscle.
I didn’t hesitate. The badge compels me, and I’d always managed to gain more power through his instruction.
“Machamp, use Karate chop!”
A leap, throwing myself forward. The left palm extended forward to guide my way and the right fist coiled in preparation to strike. I saw the monster lift one of its center arms up and extend the fingers, but it was slow. Too slow. It had simply opened up it’s chest for me, my tiny fist slammed hard against the solid, iron-like muscles that tried to flex with the impact. My feet braced into the creature’s belt, and with a twist I spun around and leapt away.
Pain! So much pain! The lash of a whip down my spine, an iron bar being smashed into the small of my back! It was everything I could do to keep from screaming through the gritted teeth, a critical hit that instantly knocked me down to less than half health. My face smashes into the dirt, dust smears onto my cheeks, and I can feel the throbbing ache above my tail where ridged fingers harshly assaulted. Staggering onto four paws and turning my head, the Machamp seemed mostly unphazed by my own assault. Five more blows could finish him, but I would be lucky to withstand two if he gets another crit.
“Pikachu, use quick attack!”
“Machamp, use Karate chop!”
Again there was no hesitation. No delay for my well honed physical ability. A handstand on my front paws, kicking off with one leg to orient myself and aim for the target, then a darting run. A leap that leaves me low to the ground but flying forward, touching down only to change direction or angle as I zipped along.
Zigzag to the left and right, watching the almost ponderous fighter type trying to line up his fists for the inevitable counter. Staring directly at me.
My feet were planted against his face before the poor thing could even blink, and with a twirling backflip I leapt away over his head. Not about to give him another opening to hit me from behind I made sure I was facing him the entire way down, even when upside down or twirling with all the majesty of a yellow rodent my eyes were on him.
The open palm swipes downward in a chopping motion, the fighter has his eyes closed and is blinking from the startling, if minor damage. He doesn’t even come close.
“Machamp, use Mega punch!”
“Pikachi, use Thunderbolt!”
No time. No time to think, no time to question, just listen to the commands and obey without thought. My feet plant into the ground and I hold both paws in front f me, a wide stance while the tiny fingers phantom holding something between them.
The massive four armed behemoth crunches forward, his heavy feet leaving deep imprints into even the tightly packed soil, two of his arms held forward to defend while the other were rearing back to strike.
Timing myself. I waited until he was only a few feet from me, stairing down with that lopsided grin and swinging a fist so quickly it glowed white-hot before the impact. I threw myself up and backwards, always facing him, watching the sand splash away from his closed fingers and the devastating attack land harmlessly beneath my feet.
My paws flicked out in an upward slicing motion, and with a deafening crackle and the burning sparks of lightning a thin, blade-shaped bolt of the yellow-blue energy impacted against the beast’s chest and slid up towards the face. Leaving burns and welts from the abdomen to its chin, the grin twisting into a pained grimace.
“Machamp, use Seismic toss!”
“Pickachu, use Mega punch!”
But the fighter type didn’t stagger, and like me he didn’t falter. He was injured, he was battered, and like me it felt as if one lucky blow could determine the winner. Already at close range the moment I landed I rushed forward on two paws, spun once while coiling my arms back, and aimed a backfist directly into the creature’s kneecap.
The thudding splat of meat on meat, the fighter’s leg is pushed backward and he drops onto one knee from the pain. But he was tough, he was hard, and he was neither down nor out at the rate this was going.
My face was suddenly mashed into the ground and I could feel cold, iron thick fingers wrapping around my neck. Squeezing painfully as they tear me away from the soil and swirl me through the air. The overhead lights, the roof, the painted floors, the stupid grin on this fighter’s face, all swirled past me in a rush of sound and color until they merged into a faded blur.
The crunch of my chest, my chin, smashing hard into the ground for a third time this fight was what shook me out of it. The four-armed monster having snatched me up, spun me around, and then hurled me downward with a skillful toss. I was hurt, barely conscious actually, but even through this pain I could still fight.
“Machamp, use Mega punch!”
“Pikachi, use Dig!”
I could see him coiling that fist, watching the energy glow with a cackling radiance. I buried my head in the sand, then instantly buried the rest of me, clawing and tearing through even the thick dirt and crumbled stone with panicked accuracy. A burrowing mouse now digging for his life to get as far away from danger as possible.
An explosion. A shockwave. I could feel the impact of that strike vibrating through the dirt and jostling my bones, the redish welt on my back where the previous direct hit landed. The other pokemon couldn’t get me, not from down here, but I had to leave soon before lack of air in the dark tunnel was problematic.
“Machamp, use Focus Energy!” I hear the shouting. My trainer says nothing, he can’t really. And he doesn’t have to.
Obeying the previous command, ears twitched to locate my target through the topsoil, I crunched and crunched against dirt and stone at an upward angle. Another explosion, sudden light, dazzling sounds, the brief image of an intensely focused fighter with his eyes closed. Dropped onto one knee as his arms are coiled back.
Dirt and stone sprays from my arrival, my skull bashes into the creature’s rock hard abdomen, and as yet another painful looking bruise appears on the creature he is just as capable of continuing the fight as I was. One harsh breeze away from total collapse. But with his energy focused he had an even greater chance of a critical strike than normal, now compounded with the fact Karate chop already has a higher than average likelyhood of landing that perfect blow.
It wasn’t hard to figure out what comes next.
“Machamp, use Karate chop!”
“Pickahu, use Mega punch!”
Devastating or not, accurate or not, through such tightly packed muscles he could never move fast enough to keep up with me. And all of his movements were predictable. A simple jump forward, a frontflip just in front of the beast’s face. His head was the size of my entire body, and on his knees, prepared to destroy me, I could still see this stupid grin on the big lipped face.
My fists swings downward onto the top of his skull, a tiny paw glowing white with the overwhelming speed and power being put on display. The sound of meat slapping against stone, the clack of teeth crunching together as it’s grin turns to gritted pain.
From his knees to his stomach my attack threw this fighter to the ground and I was left to tumble down it’s back. Landing in a low crouch and breathing heavily, waiting for the next command, the next attack.
Dust clouds settle on the arena. No attack comes.
I was breathing heavy. My face hurt, my back hurt, my paws felt like they were bleeding. Looking over my shoulder it was clear the match was won. A towering behemoth of a fighter lay flat on its chest and the eyes were a swirling spiral, unconscious before both trainers.
Without so much as a pout of disappointment the enemy trainer raised a pokeball and a thin red line shot out. The monster I’d been pitted against dissolved, spread into a red and white glow, and then vanished back inside his own small prison.
“Onyx, I choose you!”
Nothing so much as fanfare, or a complement, or even a moment’s respite. The entire process repeated itself with a snake, no, a mountain, of stone and iron and dangerous looking eyes materialized before me. Three times as big as the fighter. It’s spiked crown all but touching the ceiling while it’s sinuous body looped around the dirt behind him.
In the back of my mind it was a terrible fear, a tingling desperation worming through my bones at the prospect of actually fighting this thing. My lightning would be useless, my fists would bounce off the hard stone, and a single blow is all it would take to break me. Outside for the world to see, I stood up in bold defiance. Trying to hide the way my knees were shaking, remaining absolutely silent lest there be a hint of quivering in my voice.
“Pikachu, Return!”
And with those words the world faded into red, then further into black. My injuries no longer hurt, but they didn’t heal either. I could hear fumbling, the clank of metal on metal, and saw a distorted glimpse of my owner throwing another ball.
My job here was done. With nowhere to move, nowhere to go, nothing but my own suspect thoughts to pass the time, I sat still and waited.
Patient in the knowledge I would be needed again, to try my fist and my thunder against the next opponent.
Category Flash / Pokemon
Species Pokemon
Size 550 x 400px
File Size 20.6 kB
I have gold version, Silver version, and Crystal version. Played the squeak out of Crystal trying to catch all of the three legendary dogs and ended up with handful of shiny ones. As Heartgold and SoulSilver were just remakes of the games I already have, admittedly I didn't look into them. Also probably doesn't help that the most modern handheld I own is a game-boy advanced and I've stopped playing pokemon about the time I went into college ... now I suddenly want to look into these.
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