It had been a few hours since the sun had set and the earth had cooled. Somewhere in the trees a Hoothoot called out, and a Noctowl answered its mournful song. The moon was only a sliver in the sky and provided little illumination, despite the isolated location of this small town away from the gaudy haze of fake light in the bigger cities. North of the Lake of Rage, nestled in the mountains, Marigold Village lay in perfect peace and harmony.
From the relative safety of the treeline, Null watched the lights of the hamlet go out one by one. Autumn was now upon them, and he knew that there was precious little more time he could hide here amongst the foliage. In just a couple months the trees would be bare and he would have to find new cover. Supposedly there were any number of caves dotting the cliffs in this region, and if one could find such a cave not previously occupied by an Ursaring and her cubs then perhaps one might be able to avoid being sighted and turned in for the reward on ones' head. Hypothetically speaking.
Null let out a breath through his nose he hadn't realized he was holding, rubbing at his left eye. He hadn't been sleeping well lately. For half a week he'd had upsetting dreams where the machine inside his head had come to life all on its own, calling out to its creators and bringing Team Rocket running to drag him back home. It made him wary of sleep altogether, and recently he had become more nocturnal in order to avoid the nightmares that came in the dark.
Hmm. "Home". Technically Team Rocket HQ was the only thing he had left that resembled the word, as recently he had been lying his head down to sleep on whatever moss-covered rock or bed of soft branches he could find. And yet he couldn't bring himself to really call it that anymore. "Home" was supposed to be someplace safe. Someplace happy. Someplace you wanted to go back to. Someplace your parents didn't sell you off to be experimented on.
Again he rubbed the eye. It didn't fit quite right. It was a close fit - the closest, which is why he was chosen - but just off enough to be uncomfortable. Like a contact lens with a small tear in it. And then there was the burning when it was activated. The little machine didn't use a lot of power, but the heat it created when it was running had nowhere to go but inside his own skull. That was what his most recent dreams had been made up of. The Eye calling and calling and calling back to its masters, drawing them ever closer, and all the while heating up so drastically that the skin began to melt its way off his face.
Yeah, overkill. And he knew it. But the fear lingered in his chest nonetheless.
There was a snorting noise and a paw clawed at his shirt. Null looked down and gave a brief smile, resting his hand on Hanzer's head. The Typhlosion had been with him since it was a freshly hatched Cyndaquil. His parents, on a raid for Team Rocket, had stolen it from Professor Elm's Laboratory. It had been his first Pokemon and his introduction to the life of a Trainer, and they had been inseparable ever since.
Hanzer, while not especially inclined to care about anything or anyone other than himself, was a student of his trainer. He studied the human carefully and was quick to obey any command, spoken or unspoken. And after all they had been through together, he was rather overprotective of Null. Sometimes, that included saving the teen from himself and his own thoughts.
"Thanks, bud. Let's go get some food, huh?" Null asked, looking back out at the town as one of the few remaining lights went out. Wintering in the mountains would be difficult, but with a powerful fire-type like Hanzer at his side, he knew they could make it. What did people do without Pokemon...? He couldn't imagine.
---
He knew stealing was wrong on some kind of moral level. Of course he believed that what Team Rocket was doing - taking Pokemon from trainers who had spent years bonding and strengthening them - was wrong, but it was difficult to see all thievery as immoral when it was what you were surrounded with on a daily basis (and in fact, when being the best thief there could be is what put bread on the table and kept you from being put in prison). For example, he had no qualms with what he was about to do in this little town. He had been smelling the delicious aroma of freshly baked goods wafting up the valley from Marigold Village all day. The bakery here was famous and drew all sorts of vacationers in during the warmer months. They made plenty of money. They wouldn't miss a scone or twelve.
Null was grateful for the deep darkness of the night. He wasn't exactly a small target at nearly six feet tall. He was built on an average frame, more muscled now than he probably had ever been in his life due to the months of trekking off the beaten path to hide from his pursuers. His right eye was a bright, vibrant blue; his left eye the same hue but lacking the vibrancy of its companion. With the Eye deactivated he was as good as a cyclops. It really wreaked havoc with his depth perception - something he still wasn't quite used to. Hanzer had only barely been able to stifle a snicker the few times Null had run into objects or walls, believing them to be further away then they were.
His hair was white, short, and usually straight but due to the weeks of sleeping outdoors it was uncharacteristically unkempt. The same could be said of his clothes - a red t-shirt that had been old to begin with worn over a (stolen) long-sleeved plain black shirt, the sleeves of which were ragged and torn in a few places around the cuff. His jeans had once been a nice deep blue but were now rather washed out with a jagged cut in one knee and the hems fraying where they kept getting trapped under his shoes when he walked.
The village only had streetlights along the main strip, so Null used the sidestreets to creep up to the back of the bakery. Hanzer had begrudgingly accepted a temporary respite in his Pokeball due to the fact that his mane of fire would undoubtedly draw unwanted attention to his human.
The smell was almost unbearable now, even with the bakery being closed for a few hours. Null took in a big whiff of the scent, salivating and reminding himself just how hungry he was. It wasn't difficult to find trees loaded with berries in the forest, but it took a lot of berries to fill the stomachs of a teenage boy and the bottomless pit that was his Typhlosion. Hungry almost beyond words, Null reached for the knob on the back door to the bakery (people were unbelievably trusting in these small towns and often left doors, even to businesses, unlocked), and suddenly froze when he thought he heard footsteps in the alley behind him.
From the relative safety of the treeline, Null watched the lights of the hamlet go out one by one. Autumn was now upon them, and he knew that there was precious little more time he could hide here amongst the foliage. In just a couple months the trees would be bare and he would have to find new cover. Supposedly there were any number of caves dotting the cliffs in this region, and if one could find such a cave not previously occupied by an Ursaring and her cubs then perhaps one might be able to avoid being sighted and turned in for the reward on ones' head. Hypothetically speaking.
Null let out a breath through his nose he hadn't realized he was holding, rubbing at his left eye. He hadn't been sleeping well lately. For half a week he'd had upsetting dreams where the machine inside his head had come to life all on its own, calling out to its creators and bringing Team Rocket running to drag him back home. It made him wary of sleep altogether, and recently he had become more nocturnal in order to avoid the nightmares that came in the dark.
Hmm. "Home". Technically Team Rocket HQ was the only thing he had left that resembled the word, as recently he had been lying his head down to sleep on whatever moss-covered rock or bed of soft branches he could find. And yet he couldn't bring himself to really call it that anymore. "Home" was supposed to be someplace safe. Someplace happy. Someplace you wanted to go back to. Someplace your parents didn't sell you off to be experimented on.
Again he rubbed the eye. It didn't fit quite right. It was a close fit - the closest, which is why he was chosen - but just off enough to be uncomfortable. Like a contact lens with a small tear in it. And then there was the burning when it was activated. The little machine didn't use a lot of power, but the heat it created when it was running had nowhere to go but inside his own skull. That was what his most recent dreams had been made up of. The Eye calling and calling and calling back to its masters, drawing them ever closer, and all the while heating up so drastically that the skin began to melt its way off his face.
Yeah, overkill. And he knew it. But the fear lingered in his chest nonetheless.
There was a snorting noise and a paw clawed at his shirt. Null looked down and gave a brief smile, resting his hand on Hanzer's head. The Typhlosion had been with him since it was a freshly hatched Cyndaquil. His parents, on a raid for Team Rocket, had stolen it from Professor Elm's Laboratory. It had been his first Pokemon and his introduction to the life of a Trainer, and they had been inseparable ever since.
Hanzer, while not especially inclined to care about anything or anyone other than himself, was a student of his trainer. He studied the human carefully and was quick to obey any command, spoken or unspoken. And after all they had been through together, he was rather overprotective of Null. Sometimes, that included saving the teen from himself and his own thoughts.
"Thanks, bud. Let's go get some food, huh?" Null asked, looking back out at the town as one of the few remaining lights went out. Wintering in the mountains would be difficult, but with a powerful fire-type like Hanzer at his side, he knew they could make it. What did people do without Pokemon...? He couldn't imagine.
---
He knew stealing was wrong on some kind of moral level. Of course he believed that what Team Rocket was doing - taking Pokemon from trainers who had spent years bonding and strengthening them - was wrong, but it was difficult to see all thievery as immoral when it was what you were surrounded with on a daily basis (and in fact, when being the best thief there could be is what put bread on the table and kept you from being put in prison). For example, he had no qualms with what he was about to do in this little town. He had been smelling the delicious aroma of freshly baked goods wafting up the valley from Marigold Village all day. The bakery here was famous and drew all sorts of vacationers in during the warmer months. They made plenty of money. They wouldn't miss a scone or twelve.
Null was grateful for the deep darkness of the night. He wasn't exactly a small target at nearly six feet tall. He was built on an average frame, more muscled now than he probably had ever been in his life due to the months of trekking off the beaten path to hide from his pursuers. His right eye was a bright, vibrant blue; his left eye the same hue but lacking the vibrancy of its companion. With the Eye deactivated he was as good as a cyclops. It really wreaked havoc with his depth perception - something he still wasn't quite used to. Hanzer had only barely been able to stifle a snicker the few times Null had run into objects or walls, believing them to be further away then they were.
His hair was white, short, and usually straight but due to the weeks of sleeping outdoors it was uncharacteristically unkempt. The same could be said of his clothes - a red t-shirt that had been old to begin with worn over a (stolen) long-sleeved plain black shirt, the sleeves of which were ragged and torn in a few places around the cuff. His jeans had once been a nice deep blue but were now rather washed out with a jagged cut in one knee and the hems fraying where they kept getting trapped under his shoes when he walked.
The village only had streetlights along the main strip, so Null used the sidestreets to creep up to the back of the bakery. Hanzer had begrudgingly accepted a temporary respite in his Pokeball due to the fact that his mane of fire would undoubtedly draw unwanted attention to his human.
The smell was almost unbearable now, even with the bakery being closed for a few hours. Null took in a big whiff of the scent, salivating and reminding himself just how hungry he was. It wasn't difficult to find trees loaded with berries in the forest, but it took a lot of berries to fill the stomachs of a teenage boy and the bottomless pit that was his Typhlosion. Hungry almost beyond words, Null reached for the knob on the back door to the bakery (people were unbelievably trusting in these small towns and often left doors, even to businesses, unlocked), and suddenly froze when he thought he heard footsteps in the alley behind him.