He couldn’t remember much of his early years. They were all just an unfulfilling blur of searching for food and trinkets to horde. It was instinctual, really. Zigzagoon were natural kleptomaniacs and explorers by nature. That wasn’t to say he was entirely without purpose, though. Even then, searching through the underbrush and rooting through garbage, he knew what he really wanted was a place he belonged.
It seemed obvious, then, that to solidify his place among the other ‘goons in his Gaze, he needed to find a trinket of exceptional value. Any zigzagoon that could bring baubles and shinies of sufficient interest was instantly elevated to king of the glade; their trinkets passed around and marveled until inevitably its owner got paranoid and stole it back to hide away and eventually forget. He wanted to be the next king, to gain the approval of others, but thus far had found nothing to offer his peers but bruised berries and some bits and pieces of Human detritus.
So maybe his efforts might have been better directed at speaking or playing with the others. But then if the zigzagoon’s misplaced search for friendship through empty materialism was the result of his Gaze, then how was he to attract the attention of the other ‘goons when they, too, were off searching for new and interesting objects to pride about the glade in an effort to win some attention of their own? Looking back, he wondered if not for that day, would he have spent his whole life in that cycle of searching and failing to find a trinket that would give him companionship? Or would he have grown out of it, evolved and sought out mate among the other linoone who roamed the plains beyond the forest. He wouldn’t know, because one day he happened to slip while navigating an escarpment on the furthest edges of the forest, tumbling down and out of his usual haunting grounds and into an area known to his Gaze as “human territory”.
Humanity’s territories were hard to miss, though endlessly confusing to the wild Zigzagoon: They were marked by dull, steel-mesh barriers and covered a variety of a hot, rough-textured stones upon which ran great metal beasts. They built great dins and stashes and were the source of many great finds among the more experienced zigzagoons, but they were also hostile both in appearance and function. The territories were also extremely varied; alternating between vast rocky deserts to single small strips that wound their way through and over the forests, with dins that varied from barely as large as a single specimen to massive enclosed stone forests that one could get lost in for ages.
Up until that day, He had been reluctant to spelunk such a place and had stuck to the occasional raid of the footpaths and their convenient communal mini-stashes that were easily knocked over and rooted through. Even if he rarely found anything of interest in there, the humans themselves were seemingly flush with tasty snacks and were quick to stash leftovers in the bins. A raid rarely went unrewarded, though the rewards were lackluster. Today though, something in the human territory caught his eye.
The glint of something shiny, far up on the top of a man-made cave so large it towered over the surrounding trees. The little ‘goon could just barely see it through the strange mesh of rusty metal that surrounded the territory. He couldn’t see what it was, exactly, but that didn’t matter so much as the fact that it caught his interest to begin with. The intrigue alone was enough to convince the zigzagoon to squeeze through a hole in the barrier and make for the center of the man-made clearing.
This territory was abandoned, he knew that much. The barrier was so rusty and rickety that it couldn’t have seen care from its owners in years, and the stone the humans used to cover the ground was cracked and uneven and covered in weeds. He proceeded cautiously, darting between rusty old boxes and overturned equipment, and always on the lookout for passing Fearow. These human territories always felt too open, too exposed for the tiny prey-items of the forest, and it made him uncomfortable just thinking about how clearly everyone and everything could see him running about the clearing. Of course, humans were predators, or at least as large as most predators, so they had nothing to fear replacing the tall grass and canopy trees with pavement and open air, and everything to gain forcing intruders like him to expose themselves.
It was no matter now. The coast was clear, and the zigzagoon scurried up to the face of the building.
But as he approached the side of the humans’ massive den-thing he realized that he had no idea how to actually enter the structure. Humans were clever beasts: They knew how to create special openings that only they could enter and exit and would block any would-be thieves from sneaking in while they were away. It was almost like burying your loot except you never had to worry about forgetting where it was! He knew there was a way to access the openings, somehow. The Linoone that occasional visited his Glade would sometimes tell their little cousins stories of how you could activate the openings by leaning on the little sticks jutting out from the side. But they never went into detail…
He carefully hugged the wall and started to circumnavigate the ruined cave-thing. Surely, somewhere, there had to be a weakness, right? He had visited some old human ruins before; smaller homes, though still huge for a zigzagoon, propped up off the ground on little rocks as if the very concept of dirt was unappealing to them. Those places were full of holes in the floor and walls. But those dilapidated wooden hovels had been located away from the regular human territories in the middle of the woods and held little more than lumps of a strange spongy mildew-covered material that was comfy to sleep on, but otherwise worthless. This place, abandoned or not, was so much larger and made of roughly textured but perfectly straight stone that no amount of scraping and gnawing would penetrate. It had to contain something valuable.
A series of angular platforms -stairs, he thought they were called- drew his attention. They led up to an off-colored section of wall with a knob on one side. This must be one of the covered entrances…a ‘door’ he thought one of the Linoone called it. Centered on the door was a strange white-and-red patterned leaf. The Linoone had mentioned that the patterns were the human equivalent to scent markings, but they lasted longer and could be read from further away. He wished he knew how to read it.
‘Wait…’
The door wasn’t perfectly centered; it was leaning awkwardly to one side, as if some greater beast had once tried to pry it open, and there were very slight gaps between the door and the wall. He sniffed around the door: not even the stalest scent of Pokémon. He looked around: No sign of anyone, friend or foe. But if he could push this door open…
The zigzagoon leaned against the door. It bent a little on its mountings but didn’t budge. He tried again, backing up and giving it a shove…nothing but an aching shoulder.
‘Alright Then…’
He backed up a couple meters from the door, lowered his head, and charged up the stairs.
Clang!
The zigzagoon bounced off the hardened steel and tumbled down the stairs onto his back.
‘Ow!’
He gave the world a moment to stop spinning before flipping upright and inspecting the door. It was unchanged…but the crack between door and frame was almost doubled in size. There was enough room now to peek inside the cave! Not that he could actually see anything; it was far too dark inside, and it was already late morning, so his night vision was completely shot. He didn’t care: He had opened the door! Now he just needed to open it some more. He backed up a ways and charged.
Clang! ‘Just a little more!’ Clang! ‘Just a little…more!’ Clang! ‘Jus a lil’…’ Clang! ‘Moranjus’little…’
The Zigzagoon took a moment to collect himself. By the time the ground had stopped wobbling beneath his feet, he could see the door was just a breadth too small for him to fit.
‘Just one-‘
The splitting pain in his head said ‘No’.
‘Okay then…’
The Zigzagoon eyed the door. He backed up, he braced himself, he took a deep breath…and charged!
‘Human Door, meet Zigzagoon Bodyslam!’
CLANG!
This time he hit the door at an angle, letting his other shoulder take the brunt of the blow. The door slammed open, rebounded off the inside of the wall, and ripped itself free of its hinges. Meanwhile the foolish explorer’s body was sent careening into some debris lying nearby.
There was another “Clang!” as the massive metal door fell flat on the ground, but that was nothing next to the cacophony from nowhere that activated the instant the door was open. A terrible, shrieking thing, like Giratina itself had been awakened from its slumber and was angrily demanding whoever dared enter its domain to announce itself and die. It seemed to come from everywhere and reverberated through the walls and echoed about the cavernous interior of the cave, leaving him disoriented. Desperate, the curious ‘goon could do little but close his ears and huddle prone in the pile of garbage and hope whatever mad demon he had awakened would go away.
He slowly raised his ears and uncurled from his spot on the floor. The monster, or whatever it was, appeared to have calmed down, or left, or died. Thank Arceus!
He opened his eyes. The humans’ great artificial cavern truly was a mess. Most of what little light he had came from holes in the roof of the cavern, which was so large he could barely make out the strange metal branches holding it up from his spot the floor. There was glass, that strange human-made, sharp-edged rock you could see through, all over the ground beneath the holes. The floor was even but terraced, with gentle ramps allowing the curious kleptomaniac access to the higher paths. There were many old wooden and metal tables that held old equipment and strange glass vials just out of reach, though some had collapsed and spilled their contents on the floor. In the corners, along the walls, and even scattered across the floor, squat steel cylinders leaking strange and exotic fluids were piled haphazardly and left to rot.
And in the center of it all were a series of twelve massive metal…trees? Trees were the best the zigzagoon could compare them to. Massive, round metal trunks that gleamed despite years of disuse loomed over him, with a variety of branches large and small branching away and around and into other trees to create a massive ridged web of tangled steel. Each trunk and many of the branches were inscribed with more of those strange human symbols, and while he couldn’t read them, the huge, blocky nature of the texts and their bright red and yellow colors seemed to warn of dire consequences for any who touched them.
Then the smells hit him. They were wide and varied as one got closer to individual barrels, but also had a musty scent about them, and years of stale air had slowly allowed the scents to mix and homogenize across the room until single universally unpleasant stench had stained the walls and floor. The air itself was thick with dust that made his eyes water.
The last echoes of the siren faded away, leaving the cave in total, perfect, silence.
He was alone…
‘Awesome!’
The zigzagoon immediately ran about exploring the cave. This place was full of nooks and crannies and trinkets and baubles and uncountable paths to explore! He sniffed at one of the puddles leaking from a barrel.
‘It’s like a Roselia, but if there were a million of them using stun spore all at once!’
One of the massive metal tree things’ chemicals had eaten clean through the bottom and spilled into a nearby drain. He stepped in the residue and licked the paw.
‘Disgusting! I wonder if they all taste like this!’
He jumped onto one of the tables, giving a nervous yelp as it started wobbling on old, uneven legs and he nearly overbalanced into another field of broken glass. He examined the tiny containers, noting the many colors and the strange human symbols labeling each. The tops were of each were a strange, slighly spongy material. Out of curiosity he worked one of the stoppers loose and smelled a pleasant, if overly strong oder reminicant of cheri berries. Any one of these could make him the talk of the Glade!
And there were even other doors implying the promise of even more adventure! Forget bringing trinkets to the gaze; he could bring the gaze to the trinkets. He’d be hailed as the greatest treasure finder the world had ever seen! Well, his world had ever seen, anyways. He just had to bring one of these strange smelly glass bottles with him, and with it he could convince everyone in the glade to follow him here. Then the whole team could set about stripping it clean of baubles, opening the other doors…they could turn this place into a brand new zigzagoon fortress! And he would be their leader...or at least, he'd be held in high regard.
But those aspirations disappeared the moment another glint of metal caught his attention. The little zigzagoon squinted up at the far corner of the cave. There, perched on the highest barrel atop the largest stack was the shiny that had led him into the den. It was hard to make out from across the room, but it was very reflective, irregularly shaped, and smaller than an apricorn. Sitting there in the light from the windows against the backdrop of rust and corroded metal, it looked almost pristine.
He wanted it!
The zigzagoon leapt from platform to platform to floor and towards the stack, headless of the trail of collapsing furniture and shattered glass he left in his wake. Across the floor, up a ramp, and a nice running jump right past the first tier of barrels to hook his claws onto the edge of the second.
As he climbed atop the second tier of barrels, he felt the lid deform beneath his claws. Instinctively, he splayed himself out to grip the edges of the barrel, where it would be strongest. The thin metal walls shifted and bulged beneath his weight. The zigzagoon’s legs quivered as he struggled for a moment to keep his balance.
This place was dangerous…maybe he should stop.
He would.
Right after he had his prize!
Eventually the barrel settled, and he regained his balance. Undeterred by his brush with disaster, the Zigzagoon reared up on his hind legs and stretched to reach the third tier. But as his weight shifted, so did the barrel, as the barrel shifted, its contents started to slosh about, and as the weight of the barrel and its contents started to wobble, the rest of that great tall pile of barrels started to groan.
‘Uh-Oh…’
The groans turned into shrieks, and the shrieks were accompanied by the splashing of fluids down onto the floor below. All of a sudden, the lid of the barrel beneath him gave out and he was plunged into the cold, dark fluids inside. He panicked, thrashing his limbs in a vein attempt to swim inside the confined space.
Then the barrel itself broke apart and he was thrown down the pile. And the destruction of that barrel lead to the collapse of the barrel next to it…and the barrel next to it, and the barrel next to it. And the loss of all these barrels lead to the complete collapse of the tier above. Soon an avalanche of metal and caustic fluid was cascading down the ziggurat onto the floor below. Onto the zigzagoon below.
Dazed and disoriented, lying on his back and doused in strange chemicals, the would-be plunderer looked up and gasped at the oncoming tide of rust, steel, and fluid.
The last thing he ever saw was an old blue barrel ripping itself apart as tumbled towards his face.
***
It took a moment for the Him to realize he was awake. His body felt numb, it was dark and everything about him felt cold; he was soaked to the bone in the strange smelly fluids, and from what he could tell he was still upside-down on the floor. One of the great metal barrels -thankfully empty- lay on top of his belly pinning him to the floor. Also, his left eye kinda ached. He wondered if-
Pain made its presence known the instant he brought a paw to his face. He jerked his claws away immediately, but not so fast he didn't feel the problem. Something was stuck in his eye! He tried to blink out of instinct and felt the thing shift ever so slight-
AAAARGH!
Panic set in. He had to get out of here! The zigzagoon squeezed out from under the barrel and flipped upright. Something wasn’t right. Why was it so dark? Was it nighttime? He waved his paws out in front of him. He couldn’t see anything on the left, and his right eye only registered dark, blurry shadows. The realization hit him like a raging rhyhorn.
He was blind…He had to get out of here!
He ran for the exit, or at least where he thought the exit was, and careened into another barrel. He tried to run around it and managed to find a concrete wall, only for his head to erupt in pain again as the left side of his face got a bit too close and pressed against the thing lodged in his eye. He kept running, dodging around obstacles on his right as their shadows loomed in front of him, barely missing a table leg and then a piece of broken machinery by a hair's breadth. He smelled fresh air; he must be close! Then he saw it: A bright light, registered as a hellish red through his one tainted eye, was directly ahead.
He charged forward, tripped over the fallen door, and skidded around the corner to freedom…only for his paw to step into thin air. He had forgotten about the stairs! With a cry, the unfortunate zigzagoon fell on his chin and tumbled to a halt in broad daylight. He was out, and the full extent of his injuries made themselves known to him.
His head hurt. His feet hurt. His back hurt. His shoulder hurt. His right eye stung. The left side of his face was on fire! He felt queasy. He was blind, thirsty, bleeding and alone.
'He was going to die out here…'
The thought made him feel hopeless. It made him feel sick. Very sick…
The zigzagoon’s front legs collapsed as he felt his breakfast clawing its way back up his throat. For a long minute he sat there, exposed, heaving his stomach’s contents onto the hot concrete. He was going to die here. Alone and unknown, blind and bruised and covered in his own sick. His hind legs gave out and he fell on his side. He waited there to die…he hoped it would be quick.
…
Time Passed.
…
He was thirsty.
He shouldn’t care. He should be content to lie here and bleed out. He felt too tired to move. Water or no water he was never going to see the next sunrise but…dammit he wanted water!
The Zigzagoon shakily pulled himself together. Simply getting up felt like a challenge. But with shaking legs he did so, trudging towards the edge of the stone clearing. Maybe he could find a ditch or a hollow that had collected water. Maybe he’d find a hungry ekans. Either way he’d no longer be thirsty.
At first, he tried following his own scent, but that led uphill and he was looking for ditches. Instead, he tried following the barrier. There was no shortage of holes, but finding one large enough to accommodate himself without any vision proved to be a challenge, and he gained no small number of cuts trying to push himself through the sharp metal wiring. Then he found a hole that felt large enough to comfortably step through.
‘Easy, Easy…’
He closed his ‘good’ eye and leaned into the rusty barrier. He stepped forward, mindful of his wound, trying to keep it as far away from the edge of the hole as he could. Another step. He was a quarter of the way through and could feel the mesh starting to poke at his neck. One more step-too fast! Above him the branches rattled, and another lance of pain from his ruined left forced the Zigzagoon to stop. The thing in his eye, whatever it was, had caught in the mesh.
‘Back up!’
The metal mesh rattled again, and even more pain forced a cry from his dry throat. Out of frustration, or perhaps desperation, the Zigzagoon thrashed his head in an effort to force himself free.
That didn’t help.
All at once he was consumed white-hot agony. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything beyond the searing pain that flooded his mind and scoured it of sensation. And all the while the Zigzagoon never stopped twitching and spasming in an instinctual attempt to stop the pain.
He was screaming.
Eventually he simply grew too tired to continue moving. The thing was well in truly stuck. He was stuck. The pain receded slightly, or maybe he just grew used to it, and feeling returned to the rest of his aching, tired body. He did his best to get comfortable, though now on top of everything else he was forced to stand to prevent aggravating the wound.
‘WHY!? Why does everything I do make things worse? Why can’t I…all I wanted…’ He couldn’t even think straight anymore. All he could do now was stand awkwardly under the barrier and stew in his own frustration and pity and fear and…and…
The steady pounding of heavy feet on old stone caught his attention. Someone was coming! He let out a cry and hoped it was friendly. Although at this point, he wouldn’t mind a hungry predator if only to end it more quickly.
“Hello?”
A human? He let out another cry. At this point it was so weak it was barely audible above the shaking of the trees.
“Hey there, little guy! What are you doing?” The voice was hoarse, but undeniably feminine. As if she had been crying recently.
‘Help me…please!’
“Oh God, your eyes! What happened to you?”
He just moaned in response, too tired to do much more than hold himself up. “Here, let me help...” The Zigzagoon felt a hand wrap around and under his belly and reflexively started to struggle. Despite himself, he still deep down wanted to get out of this alive. But all his wiggling did was further aggravate his wounded eye. He started to panic again. He started to scream.
“Wait! Just, let me...”
The Zigzagoon wailed in pain as the human briefly pulled on the thing in his eye. Then he felt the pressure fade and heard the metal barrier springing back into place.
“...There!”
Blood was pouring down his cheek in earnest now. He was starting to feel woozy...
The Human Girl’s grip on his stomach didn’t disappear. Instead he felt himself rise into the air and pushed against something soft. Probably one of those hides humans liked to wear. As she fumbled with her free hand the Girl continued to speak. Her voice was low and comforting, even as her wavering tone and shaky movements betrayed her concern.
“My name’s Mary. You’re gunna be okay, okay? I’m going to...get you to...a...to a…doctor!”
Her stammering was accompanied by odd movements and some strange tapping noises and a new voice: a buzzy, artificial thing that would have made him curious under any other circumstances.
“Head South on Route 32, then turn right.”
“We’re getting out of here!” The Girl started to run.
Humans were curious things. It was less their huge dens or strange symbols that were confusing, but rather their mannerisms. Humans were…inconsistent. The Zigzagoon always knew where he stood with other pokemon: The Pidgeot wanted to eat him, the Wurmple were afraid of him, the Raticate wanted his food and he wanted theirs. But when a human approached you never knew if they were going to try to pet you or kick you; give you a treat or chase you away. Some were even afraid of him, which was especially confusing because they could easily kick him clear across the region if they so wanted. And on top of that, they were the only creatures He’d ever known who couldn’t naturally understand the speech of other species.
And then there was her. This ‘Mary’ who was going out of her way to help him for no reason he could understand. Why did she come running at the cries of a distressed animal? Did she want something from him? Was she just unusually altruistic? What was she doing and why did she stop to help a creature she didn’t know?
He was too desperate to be suspicious; he’d just have to trust her. All he could do was sit there and listen as her footfalls transitioned from the crunching of broken stone to the soft crunching of leaves to the thumping of asphalt. In front of him, the shadow of that terrible cave fell away and the Girl picked up speed.
“You’ll be okay! I can fix this! Everything’ll be fine! I promise…” Mary chanted the words under her breath. The Zigzagoon just groaned in response.
“Head West on Route 33, then turn right.”
It was kinda nice all things considered; A nice soft jacket, the rhythmic rise and fall of each stride, the comforting grip of the human’s hands on his back, all those nice soothing words. It was comfy; Comforting in a way that he hadn’t felt since his mother had left him in the glade. And with all the excitement and stress he was starting to get really tired. The nice girl had said he’d be okay, that she’s get him help... His remaining eye started to droop. ...maybe a short nap would speed things along... *Stab* He squeaked in surprise as Mary jabbed him in the rear with a dull pocketknife. It wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, but it hurt enough to get his attention. They were still running, though now the girl’s breadth was growing ragged. Her voice was surprisingly stern. “Don’t fall asleep!” But he was so tired! He lay his head back down on her shoulder. *Stab* “Do not fall asleep!” He just needed some rest! But his protests fell on deaf ears. Every time he tried to relax the mean-nice human would ruin it with another jab of her knife. She’d insist on yelling various placations like ‘One more mile’ or ‘5 more minutes!’ but at this point he’d lost so much blood he was beyond caring. Eventually, he stopped responding to her incessant jabs and stared uncomprehending at the world receding behind them, or what few shadows of the world he could make out at least. Darkness crept around the edge of his vision. Were they going through a tunnel? The girl increased her speed. She was yelling something, but he couldn’t muster the will to pay attention...
A sudden bucking motion and the slamming of a door against the wall jolted him out of his stupor. Cold, dry air rushed past reminding him of just how wet and sticky his fur was. Then his nice soft bed was taken away and those wonderful hands dropped him on a hard, uncomfortable counter. More hands, colder, bonier ones, turned him around and lifted his chin. Something painfully bright shone in his good eye and made little sweeping motions back and forth. A cold metal shiny was pressed against his chest. There was a lot of yelling. He was handed off to a Chansey and rushed down another hall. The nice mean girl was yelling things after him. He wondered if they’d see each other again.
‘Oh, this is nice.’
The Chansey has left him somewhere soft. Not as soft or warm as the girl’s shoulder but way better than the counter. Could he go to sleep yet? He tried to ask the Chansey but she was already out of the room. Boney-hands was back. What was she doing with those needles? You know what? He didn’t care. The Zigzagoon went to sleep.
Was he awake? It was hard to tell. His body was numb and wouldn’t respond; his vision was now completely gone. The only indicators he wasn’t dead or unconscious was the strange sour smell in the air and the strange whirring sound of some human contraption in the walls. Also, he was cold. Those chemicals were well and truly soaked into his fur and the humans hadn’t bothered with washing anything past his head. The thing in his left eye was gone, he realized. It had been replaced with the gentle pressure of a bandage that covered both of his eyes and wrapped under the jaw. Kinda itchy, but nothing compared to the pain from before. Oh, and he was still thirsty. Painfully thirsty. He hoped the Chansey came by soon so he could ask for some water.
Someone was talking somewhere behind him, the speech muffled by the door. Visitors? The door creaked open. “-move the other eye. It was that or risk infection.” Boney Fingers has returned
“Will He Be Okay?” And she brought Nice Girl!
“That’s your call to make, not mine.”
The Zigzagoon opened his mouth to ask for water. What came out sounded more like a dry croak than a proper request. Boney seemed to understand and he felt a cold metal tube touch his lips.
‘Thank Arceus! Water!’ Their conversation continued while he drank his fill from the bottle.
“So would you mind telling me what happened?”
“Not much to tell. I was on my way to the Azalea Gym when I heard cries from the old factory on Route 32. I took a look around and found him tangled up in the fence.”
“So this isn’t your Zigzagoon?”
“No ma’am, he’s wild”
“I see. And you were on your way to the Gym. I suppose that makes you a trainer?”
“No I- not anymore...”
“I see...”
There was a long stretch of silence. Even He managed to pull himself away from his precious water to turn his head at Mary. Something about that response, and the depressed tone in which it was delivered, demanded explanation. But none was forthcoming. The girl simply sat there quietly.
“…I see.” The nurse finally repeated, “Could have fooled me, the way you burst in with tears in your eyes croaking like a froggie!”
The Girl didn’t respond.
“Would you like to take custody of this Zigzagoon? You’ve certainly earned him!”
He perked up at that. An owner? A trainer? He had heard of humans abducting other Zigzagoon from the forest, often to release them a year or two later as trained Linoone. It was from them he had learned what little he knew of the human’s strange society...albeit at the time he was mostly concerned with the descriptions of trinkets and loot, not the adventures themselves. But given the chance...
“No.” The girl crushed that seed of an idea before it could sprout. “I-I’m sorry, but I don’t think I could handle the responsibility.”
“Are you sure?” The nurse was insistent, “I think he’d really appreciate it. I doubt he even has anywhere else to go.”
The Zigzagoon nodded, then frowned. He didn’t have anywhere else, did he? No one from the Gaze would want to take care of him, and even if they would he wasn’t even sure he could find his way back.'
“I can’t. Not right now anyways. I’m sorry.”
His head fell back into his paws. So much for that.
The Nurse moved away from the ‘goon towards the creaky cabinets in the corner of the room. “...I see. You’re free to go then. We’ll take it from here.”
“You’re going to put him up for adoption, right?”
“We’ll find a place for him.” She assured her, “Have a good day!”
“You too.” She stood up and patted him on the head, “Good luck little guy!” And with that Mary took her leave. The nurse waited until the door was shut before speaking again. “A shame. I’m sure she would’ve made a fine owner, too.”
There was a crackling sound, then He heard something drop onto the gurney. He leaned forward and sniffed it...Candy! The Zigzagoon lunged forward and stuffed the treat in his mouth. It was too big to swallow, but very chewy. He took his time savoring it. Treats like this were a rare but valuable find among wild ‘goons and were typically reserved for mating rituals or precious trades. Humans really were wealthy!
The nurse carefully pulled more items out of the cabinets. She moved behind him and pressed a cold hand against his thigh. “You’ll feel a slight pinch.” She warned.
The Zigzagoon nodded, still focused on his treat. Compared to the pain earlier it was easy to ignore the sting of a needle. He felt his thigh go numb from the weird chemicals.
“One more,” she warned. “Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing!”
He swallowed and happily smacked his lips in response.
“Won’t feel a thing...”
The door opened back up. It was Nice Girl!
“Sorry, Forgot my Pokédex!”
The door slammed shut again.
Silence…
“...What are you doing?”
‘Wait, she’s still here?’
“Just inoculating him before he goes to the shelter” The nurse’s voice sounded strange.
“My ass! What are you doing?” Nice Girl sounded worried. It was making him worried. The silence from the nurse didn’t help. Suddenly the hand on his back made him felt a bit too tight.
“Look, it’s just a tetanus shot.”
“Nobody looks that guilty about a tetanus shot!”
“Listen honey-“
“You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you!”
‘Kill me!?’ Suddenly the numbness in his hind legs felt a lot more foreboding.
“Listen, Girl!” The Nurse raised her voice stopping just short of yelling, “I don’t want to do this any more than you. But no trainer is going to want a blind common ‘mon to fight for them, and no one else is going to want to adopt a blind, untrained, Zigzagoon. Not when they could catch a perfectly functional one with an open garbage can and a couple of Pokeballs.”
For his part, the Zigzagoon was struggling to pull himself out from under the nurse’s hand. He wasn’t particularly concerned about what humans wanted right now; he’d only just gotten a second chance at life and he wasn’t about to let it go that easy.
“...If I send him to an adoption center, they’ll keep him in a cage for a couple years then euthanize him to make room for new Pokémon. If I release him, he won’t last a week!”
‘Not again, Not again! Let me go!’
A pair of hands snatched him by the forelegs and yanked him yelping out from under the nurse’s grasp. “And what if I want him?”
“I thought you said you ‘couldn’t handle the responsibility’.”
“Piss off!” Mary shifted her grip to hold him under the armpits and addressed him directly. “What about it, little guy? Wanna come with me?”
‘Come with...’ He nodded vigorously “Wanna be my friend? Go on a bit of a journey together?”
A friend? A friend!
I can’t promise it’ll be very easy, or comfortable, or fun...
'I don’t care!'
“-but know I won’t abandon you, or neglect you, or let you get hurt ever again!” He could swear she was talking more to herself than him. “I won’t fail you...I promise!”
For a moment there was silence...then the lucky little Zigzagoon cried out and reached forwards, begging for a hug. And she complied.
“I think I’ll call you...Cinnamon!”
He had a name. He had a name! He had a name and a friend and a trainer! He felt so...so...
“What the!?”
‘What was that noise? Why did I feel all...tingly?’ The Zigzagoon hiccupped as he felt his stomach lurch. ‘What in the world was in that candy?’
“Whoashit!” The Girl fumbled to get him back on the table as the transformation kicked in.
He felt his bones lengthen; his body grow. Three toes merged to two and his innards seemed to liquify before suddenly and drastically shifting into an entirely new biology. He felt his center of gravity rise and his fur start to shrink, his skin rippled and adopted an entirely new pattern. All of a sudden, he felt really cold as his body released a wave of heat and light. He felt his brain move and morph and squeeze and grow and had to resist the urge to puke. Then, with a final surge of energy his skull morphed like putty into a new, more aerodynamic shape. He felt the bandages on his face slipping off of his face and onto the floor. The nameless zigzagoon was gone. In his place: Cinnamon the Linoone.
There was a moment of silence as the proud evolutionary marveled at his new body... until his trainer started to scream. “Oh God! Cinnamon, Your eyes!” Oh right. His eyes. The stitches. The linoone licked his cheeks and tasted his own blood streaming down face. ‘Oh well, the Nurse probably had more, right?’
Said nurse yelled over his trainer’s hysterics “CHANSEY! We need another sewing kit! Room Two!”
Then he felt the gurney shake as his new trainer reached forward to hug him. A moment later, and she was being dragged out of the room by the Nurse and yet another needle full of anesthetic injected into his shoulder courtesy of the chansey. Mary was yelling, alternating between promises to Cinnamon and threats of violence towards the Nurse if he was hurt in any way, shape or form.
Then the door closed, and he was once again alone in the room with the Nurse and her assistant. He didn’t resist, as if he could. He simply settled down on the gurney and waited for exhaustion to take him yet again. Why worry? He had a trainer now! He had a friend. He had Mary.
I've been floating the idea of a Pokemon team with a number of...let's say 'quirks' for a while now. But you know what they say about the relative quality of the ideas you write to the ideas you keep to yourself. So here's my first story about the first Character I've ever conceived and actually implemented.Thing is...I have no idea how to write well. So critique is appreciated.
