Welcome dearies to another chapter
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The jungle didn't welcome him.
It swallowed him.
The moment Alex stepped past the heavy iron gates and into the tree line, the temperature seemed to spike ten degrees. The air was thick, heavy with moisture and the smell of rotting vegetation.
It stuck to his skin, mingling with the mud and the cold sweat of pain.
Behind him, the gates slammed shut with a finality that echoed like a gunshot.
Clang
He was locked in.
Alex didn't run.
He couldn't.
His ribs felt like they were held together by broken glass, sending a jagged spike of agony through his chest with every breath. His left wrist...the one the scar-faced boy had stomped on was swelling rapidly, turning a sickly shade of purple.
"Keep moving," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling.
"Don't stop here.
The gate is a choke point.
People will ambush here."
He forced his legs to move, limping deeper into the green twilight.
Around him, the sounds of violence had already started.
To his left, he heard a girl scream, followed by the wet crunch of something heavy hitting bone.
To his right, the distinct crackle of a primitive Thunder Shock attack sizzled through the air.
The strong were culling the weak.
The ones who had managed to grab pokemon were testing them out on the ones who hadn't.
Alex wasn't a trainer.
He wasn't even a grunt.
Right now, he was XP.
He pushed through a thicket of grass that were taller than he was, ignoring the thorns tearing at his uniform.
He needed cover.
He needed a hole to crawl into before he bled out or passed out.
After what felt like an hour of stumbling, he found it.
It wasn't much...just the hollowed-out root system of a massive, ancient tree that had partially collapsed.
The roots formed a small, cramped cave, barely big enough for a dog, let alone a human.
But it was dry, and the entrance was hidden by a curtain of moss.
Alex crawled inside, dragging his heavy boots through the dirt, and curled into a ball.
"Safe," he wheezed. "For now."
He leaned his head back against the damp wood and closed his eyes.
The adrenaline was fading, and in its place came the pain.
It washed over him in waves.
He looked at his wrist.
It was bad, Not broken hopefully, but definitely a severe sprain.
He couldn't hold a weapon with his left hand.
"I'm an idiot," he muttered, the self-loathing bubbling up like bile.
"I'm such a damn idiot."
He squeezed his eyes shut, replaying the scene in the courtyard.
He had found a Yellow Aptitude Zubat.
He pulled up the memory of the Status Screen in his mind.
He needed to understand just how badly he had messed up.
He focused on the interface, recalling the aptitude chart that seemed to be imprinted in his brain along with the memories of this world.
* Black: Common Trash.
90% of wild Pokémon.
The fodder used by grunts who die in week one.
* Green: Uncommon.
The standard for a competent Rocket Grunt. Hard to find in the wild, maybe 1 in 20.
* Yellow: Rare, Elite material.
The kind of potential that gets you promoted to Squad Leader.
"I had a Yellow," Alex whispered, hitting the back of his head against the wood.
"I had a winning lottery ticket in my hand, and I let some slum thug take it because I was afraid to stab him."
He laughed, a dry, hacking sound that hurt his ribs.
"Welcome to the real world, Alex.
No save points.
No do-overs."
He shifted, trying to get comfortable.
His stomach growled, a deep, hollow sound. He hadn't eaten since... when?
Before the truck ride?
He checked his watch.
[ Time: 09:42 AM ]
[ Points: 100 ]
He had 100 points.
He could buy a ration bar.
He could buy a Potion for his wrist.
"No," he said aloud.
"No spending."
He knew how these economies worked. Points were life.
If he spent them on comfort now, he wouldn't have them for ammo or balls later. He had to suffer.
He had to endure.
He summoned the Combat Knife from his inventory.
The blade was heavy, cold, and rusted near the hilt.
It wasn't a hero's sword.
It was a murder weapon.
He turned it over in his right hand, testing the grip.
"I can't fight a Pokémon with this," he analyzed, forcing his brain to switch from Panic Mode to Pharmacist Mode.
He needed logic.
"A Rattata can bite through wood.
A Pidgey can gouge eyes out.
Even a Caterpie has String Shot that can immobilize me.
If I fight a wild Pokémon head-on, I lose."
So, how does a human kill a monster?
Traps,Poison, Bait.
"I need a Pokémon," he murmured.
"I can't survive the night without a guard dog.
I can't sleep.
If I sleep, something eats me."
But to get a Pokémon, he needed a Pokéball.
Cost: 200 Points.
Balance: 100 Points.
He was completely stuck.
He couldn't buy a ball to catch a Pokémon. He couldn't catch a Pokémon to earn points.
"Theft," he said.
The word tasted sour.
He had to do exactly what the scar-faced boy Butch, or whatever his name was had done to him.
He had to find someone weaker than him, someone who had gotten lucky, and take it from them.
"I can't believe I'm thinking this."
He looked at his reflection in the polished steel of the knife blade.
The masked faced of his stared back.
It was a generic, handsome face.
It showed no emotion.
It showed no fear.
"It's not me," he whispered.
"It's Ares."
It was a flimsy psychological defense, but it was the only one he had.
He had to dissociate.
If Alex Hales killed a kid, Alex Hales would break.
But if Ares did it... Ares was just a mask. Ares was a survivor.
He put the knife down and unzipped his uniform jacket.
He needed to bind his ribs.
He used the knife to saw a strip of fabric from the bottom of his shirt.
It was jagged and messy, but it would work. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he wrapped the cloth tight around his chest.
Tighten, Knot.
Scream internally.
"Okay," he breathed, checking his handiwork.
It wasn't medical grade, but the compression helped,should be thankful for the medical lessons he learned.
He could breathe without seeing stars now.
He crawled to the edge of his root-cave and peeked out through the moss.
The jungle was alive. Giant, buzzing insects the size of dinner plates...Yanma maybe, or just oversized prehistoric bugs flitted through the canopy.
In the distance, he saw a purple shadow slithering through the tall grass.
An Ekans.
It was terrifying.
But it was also... beautiful.
"I wanted this," he reminded himself.
"I sat in my room in Kerala and wished for this.
I wished for a world with magic and monsters."
He gripped the knife tighter.
"Well, I got it.
Now I have to earn the right to stay in it."
He needed a plan.
He couldn't just wander aimlessly.
He needed to find water.
Water attracted prey.
Both Pokémon and humans.
He couldn't take on a group. He needed a straggler, Someone injured.
Someone alone.
He couldn't win a fair fight.
It had to be unfair.
"Water first," he decided.
He checked his inventory again.
The MP3 player sat there, tempting him.
He wanted to put the earbuds in, drown out the screeching jungle with some rock music or some Ed Sheeran music and pretend he was back in his bed.
Don't you dare, he scolded himself.
You need your ears.
You hear a twig snap, you live.
You listen to music, you die.
He left the music player in the void.
Alex took a deep breath, inhaling the humid, earthy air.
He adjusted the mask on his face, making sure it was secure.
"Okay, Ares," he whispered.
"Let's go hunting."
He crawled out of the safety of the roots, low to the ground, moving not like a human, but like a scavenger.
He headed downhill, following the logic that water flows down.
He moved slowly, agonizingly slowly.
Every step was calculated.
He watched the ground for snakes.
He watched the trees for spiders.
He wasn't the protagonist of this story yet. He was just a rat in a maze, looking for a piece of cheese before the cats found him.
Authors Note:
Well that's the end of chapter i hope you guys enjoyed it.
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