Hemorrhagic Fever Pokemon

Ebola and Pokemon. It's probably a good idea. I posted this to fanfiction.net, but no one there knows what Ebola is anyway. Hope y'all like it. By the way, it's a humor fic.

Disclaimer: Pokemon is not mine, or this would have happened in the actual series.
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Congo Republic, Africa, Earth:

A small virus particle of Ebola Zaire, one of the deadliest viruses in human history, was happily floating about some small village, killing everything it could get its little virusy proteins on. Life was good. Life was simple. Let's call this particle EZ1. Little did our friend know, its life was about to change.

...Forever.

EZ1, with no real way to steer itself in any direction, began to drift towards a rip in space-time that served as a portal to another world. The natives in the area had known about it for some time, and had even put signs in their language warning trespassers that the vortex -could- and -would- eat anything that got close enough. EZ1, however, never learned to read, and therefore floated haplessly into the portal.

Darkness.

More darkness.

Colorful unicorn party.

More darkness.

And suddenly, our little buddy EZ1 was about one hundred thousand times larger, in another world, and completely, utterly enraged.
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Route 202, Sinnoh

The sun was shining down on the path from the small suburbs of Sandgem that led into the bustling metropolis of Jubilife. On this path, we find our heroes(?) happily traveling along in a generally jovial manner. Leading the group is new trainer Dawn, who was extremely excited about her upcoming Contest debut in Jubilife. Piplup skipped at her side, feeding off of the general joy in the air.

Seconds later, Dawn was no longer walking. She was face down, on the ground, her shoe seemingly caught in a living mass that looked, at first glance, much like a worm of some sort. A squee that sounded much like a Delcatty being hit by a semi filled the air, piercing the tympanic membranes of any and all trainers in a two mile radius.

Whatever the girl had just tripped on was, it was quite angry.

The would-be Coordinator scrambled to her feet just as the other two bumbling members of her party caught up. Ash, in a fit of wanting to be the very best like no one ever was, had even picked up a large twig along the way and now stood inches from the mass of creature, prepared to poke the thing until it exploded or otherwise responded. The Pikachu that had been riding contentedly on his shoulder, however, did not express the same enthusiasm, and even went as far as to show fear towards the quivering pile of wormy mush.

"Wow! What kind of Pokemon is that?" asked the Pokemon Master to be. He began to use the stick for its true purpose of poking. The mass let out a sound that could be best described as a cross between a snarl and a squee, and attempted to flee from the source of the intrusion.

To no avail. Ash continued to poke it mindlessly until Dawn finally pulled out her Pokedex, and pointed at the poor, poked thing.

Ebola Zaire, the Hemorrhagic Fever Pokemon. Ebola Zaire is said to come from another world. In this world, it is much smaller and it considered one of the deadliest contagions in all history.

The young girl closed the Dex and glanced at the mass again. A thoughtful aura took over her person, and even the greatest geniuses of the greatest societies could not ever try to understand the thoughts that were going through her little head.

"It could make a good scarf," Dawn noted. In this instant, the greatest geniuses of the greatest societies either killed themselves or died of general fail. Ebola Zaire squelched in delight at their sudden deaths. "I think it could be an interesting addition to my contest lineup!"

It was there that the delightful sounds ended, and the pained ones began. Never in its little virusy life had Ebola Zaire tried to move faster. It managed to move two inches in the time it took Dawn to pull out a Pokeball. However, after these two inches, Ash had noticed that he had refrained from poking it for a whole thirty seconds, and began the barrage of the stick once again.

That's it. It was doomed. Utterly, utterly doomed.

In most cases, trainers would pull out Pokemon in order to battle and obtain a new member for the team. Dawn, with a stunning IQ of 120 (negative), figured just beaning the thing in what could be called a face (though it had no resemblance at all to any recognizable features) would make it hers.

Had EZ1 been in Sinnoh for more than 5 minutes, it may have known how to struggle. It may have known how to squirt a jet of virus-laden fluid at the young girl. It may have at least known some semblance of flail.

Instead, it squelched at the top of what could apparently be called lungs as it was converted into a stream of energy and stuffed into a conveniently sized ball. Unfortunately for the virus, screeching was not considered a means of struggling against a Pokeball, and before a minute passed by, the ball sealed itself and trapped EZ1 inside.

"Yay! I caught it!" The young trainer jumped up and down, holding the Pokeball of the newly-obtained virus close to her chest, completely oblivious to the murderous desires of the wormy mush within. In fact, it was at that very moment calculating exactly how to use its mass to suffocate the girl in her sleep.

General congratulations were in order. The mood was celebratory. Trainers who had been lounging in the field had come to see what all the fuss was about.

"Let's see what this little guy can do! Go, Scarf!" That's right. EZ1, a particle of one of the deadliest viruses the world has ever seen, had gotten a nickname. Scarf. Lovely. It flopped onto the ground, thankful to be released from its prison. It began squeeing, hoping to convey its anger and resentment towards the world.

Instead, it just inspired a whole bunch of "awwww"s.

Fuck. This. Shit. EZ1, who somehow refused to be known as "Scarf", condensed its form into a mushy ball, to the amazement and confusion of everyone around it. For a few seconds, all was calm. Ash, who realized he still had the Staff of Poking, gently nudged the ball.

Nothing. Another poke.

That's it. It couldn't take any more of this. It uncurled, squirting from somewhere in its mass a stream of virus-laden fluid.

"Ewwwww," Dawn started, squishing her face into a look of disgust, "none of that in the contests, okay?" Not that she cared that the stream had hit one of the young trainers who had before congratulated her on her catch. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony as the fluid, which had supercondensed Ebola Zaire particles, infected his body.

Two weeks later, that boy died. He was 11.

Three weeks later, that same male came back as an Ebola zombie. But more on that later.
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-END OF CHAPTER. DO NOT QUESTION!-

WILL SCARF INFECT EVERYBODY WITH ANGRY HYPEREBOLA? WILL DAWN ACTUALLY TRY TO USE IT IN CONTESTS? WHAT OF THE EBOLA ZOMBIE? WHY IS THE AUTHOR SCREAMING?

FIND OUT IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF HEMORRHAGIC FEVER POKEMON!