Dark Pulse

((Author's note: Part 1 (in theory). I actually want to write more of this, but I literally can't if it's terrible, so if it's terrible someone please tell me Incidentally, does anyone else remember 'overly enthusiastic shorts kid' from r/b/y? ))

The rain comes down all rivers over rooftops in the village. Afternoon thunder rolls in as Hazel zips up the last compartment on his pack. A vulpix sits on top of the ottoman under the window; she peers out at the rain, growling gently, ears down.
'I'm sorry,' he says, 'that I don't control the weather. Look, just come here and put your coat on, ok?' Hazel moves the pack from his bed to the floor and sits in its place. He holds up a little yellow raincoat with a hood at each end: one hood for the head and one for the tails. Vulpix turns slowly, unblinking. The thunder sounds again and a nearby lighting flash casts her as a silhouette against the window.
'Well, it's either this, or you go in the ball until the rain stops.'
She slides down to the floor and slinks towards Hazel. As she comes closer, a switch turns in the back of Hazel's mind and for a moment, the world stops making sense. He stares at the yellow in his hands, forgetting what it is or what he was supposed to be doing with it. Vulpix leaps to the bed, back to the floor again in a haze simultaneously quick and slow, and he suddenly becomes aware she's holding a ball between her teeth. The pack lies open, half the contents spread about the pale blue room.
'What the...'
She spits out the ball and paws it until it opens, releasing a sleepy eyed trapinch. Pointedly eyeing the other creature, she sits.
'Vulpix, you're such an asshole.' Hazel leans forward and rubs his eyes as the confusion clears. The trapinch stretches his legs and ambles towards the window. 'He doesn't need a coat, because he doesn't care about being in the ball. You need a coat, because you're a brat. You better help put all this stuff back in the bag again or I swear I will just leave without you.'
Vulpix snorts derisively, but moves to pick up some escaped socks, regardless.


It's not far from home to the outskirts of Saffron, by a hiker's standards. Hazel strides through the grass, used to the wildlife in this area. He assumes most creatures are hiding from the thunder today and wishes he could do the same. However, there's a train to catch and a ticket in his pocket as a result of months of planning and dreaming.
There comes a time in everyone's life to wake up in the middle of the night without warning or reason, only to become acutely aware of the empty spaces in the dark. When his time had come, Hazel had taken stock of his life and found it manufactured. Acceptable, but forgettable. That night he had lain awake until dawn, abruptly terrified of dying full of regret. So he made the decision to change his life while still young enough to have the freedom to do so, but old enough to appreciate the difference it would make.
There are glints of Vulpix as she pounces in the grass up ahead. She's been with Hazel for the past two years, his partner since he progressed to the trainer's unit of Kanto's police force. It's typical for trainer unit recruits in this region to start off carrying a growlithe, a few had imported poochyenas from Hoenn; the superintendent general had started with a houndour and progressed quickly through the ranks, such was the superintendent's conviction. Never having had much conviction himself, Hazel hadn't managed to catch his growlithe along with his peers. After several weeks of failure, he had sat in his garden, in the Summer dusk with head in hands, considering that perhaps his choice of career specialisation was unobtainable. At that time, Vulpix had appeared under his hedgerow and glared at him with baleful eyes until he fed her. Since then, she refused to leave. Hazel still suspects her motivations are tied to a deep sense of schadenfreude.
The trees thin out as they leave the path significantly less travelled and cut onto the end of route 7. The thunder is quiet and distant now, heading north towards Cerulean. Several thin rays of sunshine pierce through clouds and speckle Saffron's outermost rooftops.
'Hey you!' A childish voice sounds from behind the building on the other side of the path, a young boy appears. He's drenched, clearly having stood out in the storm for most of the day. 'I like shorts, they're comfy!' The youngster grins inanely.
Hazel frowns and glances to Vulpix; she doesn't react, so no sign of narcotics. 'Are you ok, kid?'
'Yeah, wanna battle?'
'Uh...' Hazel shrugs, Vuplix is impassive, 'I guess?'
'Awesome! Go Raticate, I choose you!' The kid hurls a ball onto the path and the rodent that emerges springs to attention with as much enviable enthusiasm as its trainer. Vulpix wriggles out of her raincoat. 'Raticate, use hyper fang!'
The rat lunges forward with surprising speed and latches on to Vulpix's neck before she has time to react. Hazel grimaces and slings his bag off his shoulders, preemtively looking for the compartment with the potions in it. Raticate pins the fox to the ground.
'Yeah! Go get'm!' The kid thrusts his first into the air.
'Aw, fuck,' Hazel sighs.
Vulpix isn't here anymore. There's a small mound of soft earth where she used to be, a hole in the path and a rat's backside sticking out of it. A stream of fire flows up and around, out of the ground, and consumes Raticate. It backs away, frazzled, but not done yet. Another charge, another attack, though Vulpix is ready this time. As the rat leans in for the bite, she latches onto it's face with her teeth and drags it down into the hole with her. She leaps up onto the path and pushes the loose earth over her fallen opponent.
'No! Raticate! I failed you!' The kid rushes to dig up his partner.
Hazel crouches to greet Vulpix as she pads back towards him. He leans down and whispers in her ear, 'it's not dead, is it?' Her eyes are scathing and she bites his knee, not hard enough to draw blood, but just so to cause a satisfactory amount of pain. Yelping, he staggers to his feet. Hazel grabs the little raincoat and swaps it out for a potion from his pack. 'Look kid, I uh...I'm sorry, ' he drops the medicine next to the youngster and the dizzy Raticate, 'I'm just going to go now, ok? Yeah.'
With a quick nod to Vulpix, he starts off sidling, then awkwardly jogging down the path. Upon reaching the gate house, he finds himself thinking over and over again, 'oh god, I hope no one saw that. From this day on, I'll be known as That Dickhead Who Roughhouses Children On Route 7.'


They tumble into a booth on the Magnet Train, breathless from sprinting the last of the way there. Hazel slumps into the seat next to the window and Vulpix curls up in his lap. He tries to pet her, but her hackles raise, so he stills and stares through the glass instead. The train starts to move off as the evening draws in; low, post storm sun flickers between passing scenery, painting shapes on the walls. The painted red door to the booth opens. A man slips in, muttering 'sorry, s'busy,' and gestures to the carriage lobby. Hazel acknowledges him, but doesn't say anything as he sits on the opposite side of the booth. It's quiet for a few moments before, with a smirk, the man says, 'wait a second, I recognise you!'