From: "Jom Tones" <publicenemanumberone@hotmail.nospam.com> Subject: [PW!] Another headache and 'that' Pokédex... Date: Sunday, June 13, 2004 6:34 PM The second time Huck woke up was a bit more surreal. He had absolutely no idea where he was or how he'd got there. Once again, shapes swam in front of his eyes that hurt his head as opposed to making sense. At least there wasn't a harsh white light to scour the back of his brain this time. He looked at his watch. For some strange reason, it was trying to tell him that two days had passed since he'd looked last. This however, was a minor head-hurting detail compared to the alienness of his new surroundings. He found that by holding his head very steady, he could work out the details. In front of him was a source of light and heat that was coming from wood. Fire! However, despite not being painful to look at, the light was making all the other details more difficult to see. Directly above him was a blue blackness, pricked with tiny little specks of white. Right, okay, that must be the night sky he surmised. Blocking the edges of the sky were pointy things that may have been the tops of some fir trees. He tried to sit up, but his head swam and was forced to make mewling sounds, so he sat back down. It was then that he realised that he wasn't wearing any clothes, and that the sleeping bag in which he was presently bagged, had not been washed in some time. A thousand horrid thoughts began to filter through his mind. Who was his captor? What had they done when he was out cold? Had they told the police? What was going on? More to the point, what had they done with his clothes? He didn't know. Too weak to carry on worrying, he rolled over to see if there was anything interesting on his other side. As it turned out, there were several. Directly in front of him was a small pile of clothes, his, in fact. Lurking behind it was a person, quite a small person too. A pair of big eyes glittered at him through the gloom. The figure was sitting down and looked much accustomed with doing so. The person looked extremely scruffy, but relatively harmless. Whoever this person was, he, she or it was looking at him with the utmost interest and intensity. Huck stretched a bare arm out and grabbed the pile of clothes. The little person gasped and scrambled back with its arms. Huck undid the sleeping bag and rather clumsily began pulling on his clothes. With all the important bits covered he stopped. His aching head was making this a lot more difficult than it should be and for some reason, tiny pieces of glass were making it much more uncomfortable. Huck decided to stop, he flopped his head back down on the impromptu pillow and gazed up. There came a scuffling, somewhere on his left. 'Hello?' Huck's gluey mouth stumbled. Or at least he thought he'd said hello, judging by the scattish reaction from his small guardian, he may well have said 'Glubwurble,' or something equally nonsensical. Huck's perfectly nice view of the starry sky was interrupted from the left by the proximity of the small person's head. 'I said, 'Hello',' Huck repeated, groggily. 'I know,' the small person replied. It was a he and that he was young. 'Isn't it good manners to return the greeting?' Huck asked. 'Oh, er. Hello,' the boy replied meekly. 'Right. Who are you? Where am I? And what happened?' Huck said. Thinking that getting down to business was the thing to do. 'My name's Arren; you're in a forest, just outside Slateport city; and we found you in a river.' Arren replied, with a matter of fact air. 'A river?' Huck asked, confused. Then the terrifying fall from the window came back to him. 'Oh, right. That river.' 'You were nearly drowned. We fished you out and revived you. You had a small fever yesterday. I cleaned your cuts and your clothes.' Arren replied eagerly, as if hoping for Brownie Points. Despite this though, Huck felt that he was holding something back and was unconsciously making it quite obvious. 'Well, er. thankyou, I suppose I owe you my life.' Huck said, sitting up to get a closer look at the rather odd boy. 'Yes.' Arren had a penetrating gaze and an odd posture, his back was very straight and his arms looked strong, but his legs looked completely useless. 'Are you okay?' Huck asked. 'I am fine. Why?' 'You're sitting up like you have gas, besides, you're staring at me and its making me uncomfortable.' Huck replied, a little more irritably than he felt. 'I am sorry.' Arren replied, looking away, seemingly oblivious to Huck's mood. The boy picked up a metal canteen and passed it to him. 'Here, drink this.' Huck drank deeply from the flask, the water within was cool and refreshing. Arren was looking at him again with those big awkward eyes. 'Thankyou,' he said, passing the canteen back. Arren looked as if he was wrestling with a great dilemma - as it turned out, he was trying to muster up the courage to ask a question. 'Who are you?' He blurted out, his eyes almost jumping out of his head. Clearly thinking himself impertinent, he backed away and looked at Huck with a mixture of tortured curiosity and awe. 'My name's Huck - I'm a Pokémon trainer from Rustboro.' Huck replied, trying to sound impressive. He didn't have the energy to lie about himself in his present state, so he just told the truth, 'Not that I'm particularly good. In fact, I've been looking for a way out for some time now. It's getting embarrassing. Not even my Bellsprout has any confidence in the things I do.' Huck felt as if he'd made some serious transgression. Arren looked at him as if he'd blasphemed. 'But, what about your Pokédex?' He asked quietly. 'What about it?' 'It's complete. How can you be a bad trainer with a complete Pokédex. It doesn't make sense!' The eyes were jumping out again. Huck didn't have a clue what he was talking about. His Pokédex was far from complete - he had about five Pokémon to his name and had only ever encountered about twenty. 'What are you talking about?' Huck was genuinely bewildered and Arren saw this. 'Look,' Arren opened the Pokédex and showed him. 'Ah,' Huck said, feeling very awkward, 'That's not my Pokédex.' Arren was taken aback by this, 'Whose is it then?' 'Err, my uncle's. it must be, seeing as I don't have a complete Pokédex.' Huck felt quite awkward. He was lying to the boy to whom he owed his life. Arren, who it seemed was quite inept at sensing emotion missed this one. The boy went back to staring at the Pokédex, behind Huck there came a low, unpleasant growl. He looked around, but there was nothing there. Huck didn't hear the next question, he was too busy looking for the source of the growl. 'I said, did your Uncle ever tell you about his adventures?' Arren asked, genuinely interested. 'Erm, yes he did - actually, he was the one that gave me the Bellsprout. I' ve never been to Kanto - he was a merchant.' Huck felt better, this minor extension of the lie was actually accurate. He looked around again - nothing there. He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. He needed to get back to see his boss - he needed to find out more about what happened to his parents. The owner of the Pokédex's spiteful allusions about them were still drilling holes in his head. He was getting nowhere talking to this weird little kid. While Arren oogled the Pokédex, Huck began to pull on the rest of his clothes. 'Right, where are we exactly?' He asked, getting up. 'Route 103,' came a rumbling voice from behind him. Huck spun around. 'Where did that voice come from?' He asked, more than a little alarmed. 'What voice?' Arren asked. Huck looked down at him - he wasn't lying, he either hadn't heard or couldn't hear. 'Are you sure you're well enough to stand up? Hearing things is a pretty bad sign.' 'Someone said we're on Route 103, I wouldn't know that - could I?' Huck sat back down, his head hurt again. 'All I heard was Scyther grumbling,' Arren muttered. Huck looked around, squinting into the shadows. Surely enough, sitting silently in the gloom was a Scyther. Huck fell backwards with surprise. The Scyther remained calm. Arren looked up with interest. Huck stared at the scarred, wingless terror of a Pokémon. He had never seen such a creature, its body was riddled with marks and scratches - some looked random and others looked like patterns. In the flickering firelight, the colours of his shell danced like oil. 'It seems,' the Scyther said, 'that you can understand what I say.' The menacing black eyes glittered in the firelight. 'I do not know how this is possible. But be warned boy, if you lie to Arren again, I will kill you.' -- Hem Hem - oiseau bum talent- - JomTones publicenemanumberone@hotmail.nospam.com