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Feel It Turn	By : JohnFreechman Category: Pokemon > General Views: 1623 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon nor any of the characters and make no profit from this writing. I don't own song quotes either.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter II

Climbing Up The Ladder

September 1^st, 2004

The Twinleaf Pokemon Trainer Academy was a building sitting a little ways outside of the main town. It was the largest building of them all, with two miniature gym rooms where small matches were most commonly practiced; one main gym that was slightly larger than the other two, in the center of the building—between the mini gyms—where main matches were held; and several standard classrooms when budding Trainers were learning the more technical aspect of training. Survivalism out in the wild, first aid on both Pokemon and humans, and things to generally avoid to keep safe.

The lobby of the Academy was decently sized and somewhat grandeur. With a smooth granite floor; tall white walls with national, regional and town banners hanging down them; and a tall ceiling that sported a glass dome that let sunlight pour in from overhead. There was an office, and various doorways leading to different areas of the building. Two on either side lead to the secondary gym rooms and classrooms, while one perpendicular led straight to the main gym (which also sported a large glass roof-lantern that ran the length of the ceiling). Apart from the glass dome and roof lantern, the roof was mansard styled.

And right now, with his three friends and other students, Warren stood beneath the lobby dome in the morning light, waiting along with everyone else for the dean to appear and speak to them. The babble of the Freshman body was excited and echoed in the large and mostly barren lobby. The only other objects in the room were benches pushed against the walls. Boss was coiled tightly around Warren's torso, looking around carefully. Boss usually had a looser grip on his Trainer when 'boarded,' as Warren dubbed it, but he had learned over the years that when Boss had tight grips on him it meant he was nervous; whether a little or greatly. Rarely did he tighten his grip.

“How you holdin' up, Boss?” Warren murmured to the Ekans. He turned his yellow eyes to Warren briefly before looking up at the dome again.

“(Damn you. Always talking about how big a day it would be arriving here...now I'm on edge like you...)”

“Well, I wouldn't say 'on edge,' but yeah, it's pretty nerve racking,” Warren answered as he looked at the dome with Boss. “That'll probably wear off soon though; it's not like we're gonna live here like a college. It'll be like regular school...only fun.” Boss smiled.

“(Now you don't have to grumble about not having me with you at school anymore.)” Warren grinned.

“Nope.”

Warren had to crinkle his nose as the sudden stink and sinisterly amused presence of a Gastly as it approached him from the side. Surely enough when he looked to it he saw Eric's little smug terror floating beside the student trainer himself, grinning cockily at Warren.

“Hey douchewad.” Eric's usual greeting.

“Wad douche hey,” was Warren's dry reply.

“Dude, after all these years, admit it: your come backs suck.”

“Yes.”

“'Bout time.”

“Something you wanted?”

“Just to tell you I'll be coming after your ass nonstop for the whole time we're in this joint, years to come.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“You said you'll be coming after my ass nonstop. You should've added 'no homo.'”

“Tfft, why do you keep trying to come up with come backs after you admit you suck?”

“Sarcasm.”

“Figures. Well, I've been saving most of my money on TMs for Eduardo,” he jerked his head at the Gastly, who grinned wider.

“...you called your Gastly Eduardo?”

“To shake things up.”

“Heh, first smart thing I've ever seen you do. No sarcasm.”

“Cute. But anyway, once I get the TMs for Ed he'll rape your Ekans.” At that Boss hissed at him, fangs bared, their sole desire to sink into Eric's neck and inject all the venom they had into the stupid boy's bloodstream. Eric didn't seem fazed, but Warren knew Boss could have a short and dangerous temper.

“Chill out, you damn snake,” Warren growled at Boss. He gave a sidelong glower but listened to his trainer, settling to just stare daggers at Eric.

“Yeah, just remember: 'Eric' is an anagram for 'crie,'” Warren replied with a goofy grin. A few students that had been listening in snickered.

“Oh dude, that was bad,” one remarked, and Warren replied, “I know.”

“God you're retarded,” Eric huffed and turned away at that, moving to another side of the crowd.

“That guy just thinks he's the shit, doesn't he?” Allie remarked in distaste. She, Olujimi and Stonewall typically remained silent when Eric got into it with Warren. Eric never stayed for long anyway, so there was no need to prolong something that they didn't want to last.

“He definitely is shit,” Warren agreed lowly, turning his attention to the main gym doors as they were pushed open. The gathered students beheld the Academy's dean: a tall woman in her late sixties. She was old but she was a Rock Type enthusiast, which not only made her physicality sturdier and taller than the average older woman, but she would probably have a longer lifespan. When one was bonded strongly enough with a Pokemon, their typing usually gave said person aspects of that typing. The dean, Margaret Scabbini, was about six feet and seven inches tall. She had once been hit directly by a pick-up truck and only walked away with minor injures. Granted the truck was going slow at the time, but it still would have broken or at least sprained a few bones of a normal person. The most she had were bruises, and they healed quickly.

Still, despite her Type preference and the effects it had on her physicality, she was an elegant elder woman. She wore a long light gray-silver dress, had her gray hair tied back in a neat bun behind her head; hanging from her neck from a silver chain was another silver medallion, with a clear oval amber stone wrought into the center. On the middle-finger of her right hand was another silver ring with an odd stone that glowed a pale orange.

She looked at the gathered students, panning them over. It was quiet now as they waited for her to speak. She reached into one of the pockets on the hips of her dress and removed a Luxury Ball. She flipped open the object, and in a burst of light a Rampardos appeared beside her. It was about as tall as her, six-seven; it had thick muscles beneath its rough hide; and the spikes around the thick helmet on its head made some of the students a little fidgety. The students only became nervous twofold when the once prehistoric watched them with his crimson eyes.

“This is Bronson,” Scabbini announced, placing her hand on the Head Butt Pokemon's back. “You listen to him as much as you listen to me or any other teacher in this Academy.”

At that Bronson said in a deep, grating voice, in the English tongue, “I teach the Senior student bodies, and I am strict. That is all you need to know for now...you have three years to prepare yourselves for me.”

Allie could tell Scabbini was hiding a smirk, just by the slight giveaways on her features.

“Indeed my Rampardos is a mentor at my academy,” she continued. “Some of you may think that Training is like how the cartoons and video games portray it. Absolute rubbish. While the sport, even livelihood if you so choose, can be fun; there is much hard work involved, and it is a very dangerous sport. People die everyday all around the globe, Pokemon training. In the wild mostly. A recent study has suggested that these deaths are caused, sixty-four percent of the time, to be an error on the Trainer's part. I suggest if you want to keep a limb, or more preferably your lives, you will be earnest in your studies this Academy has to offer.

“There is more to training than just running about battling anyone and anything you come across, and challenging Gyms and Leagues. The most important aspect is survival; of not only you but your Pokemon. You best treat every single one of your Pokemon with love and respect...because if it were not for them, you may die a horrible death.” She cleared her throat briefly and checked off a mental list, “Burned alive, consumed alive, poisoned, paralyzed, electrocuted, drowned, mind-broken, crushed, beaten, torn to shreds, severe hypothermia; those are the many ways you can die at the hand of a Pokemon of various Types. I will not even get into how you can succumb to a Dark Type...there's a whole class on that.” At that she did smile a little at some of the pale faces.

She spoke louder next, “I see some of your parents didn't properly warn you of the dangers themselves. And I ask you to pass it on to them that I said: shame on you. I find it grimly amusing and both repulsive at the same time that, those parents who strictly forbid their children to enter Trainership to levels of paranoia, are just as foolhardy and negligent of the growth of their child as the parents are that misinform...or should I say uninform their child that Pokemon Training is no mere walk in the park.

“And I've heard the retorts parents give. 'Oh that's why they come to the academy, so you can teach them.' Well sir or ma'am, I suggest you play your role of Responsible Parent and remind your child yourself, if you truly care about them. Do not rely completely on outside domains to inform your child...ah the hypocrisy of the ignoramus.” She gave a light, withering sigh as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Bronson chuckled deeply, it was like a large speaker playing bass beats; felt in the air as much as heard.

“I can't believe so many of the kids here look like they're gonna puss out at any second,” Allie remarked lowly as she looked around at the students who were fidgeting worse than ever.

“Huh!” Scabbini chuckled, grinning at Allie. “As to be expected of a Brook. To be quite honest, I'm not so worried about you,” she said to Allie.

She's got good hearing, Warren remarked as he watched the dean approach the students closer, some scooting away warily. Bronson only watched with a plain expression.

“Now I'm sorry to dishearten some of you,” she said, “But you wouldn't have to be if your parents had properly talked with you about Trainership. But please don't be, because during your time here, you will be taught how to survive and live. If you want all the glamour and joy that you have imagined to come out of your journeys, then you will do your best during the four years you will be taught at this establishment.” She turned away from them as another woman entered the room from the main gym.

“Now, I am going to let missus Moore give you the general tour of the building,” Scabbini announced as she strode back next to Bronson. “Good luck to all of you, I hope to see you all graduate with flying colors.” At that, she and Bronson reentered the gym, the double doors shutting themselves behind the two. The woman now known as missus Moore—a woman in her late forties appearing; with curly brown hair, glasses, a white wool sweater and dark slacks—looked upon the students and said with an apologetic smile, “You'll have to excuse Deaon Scabbini's harshness. She has your interests of becoming trainers at heart, though I do agree to a certain extent. You should have been a little more mentally prepared for the fact that you can die out there on your journeys. However, as she said, you're here to learn how to counter such terrible things. By the time you're done with your four years, you'll be more than ready to go out on your own.

“Now please follow me and I'll show you the classes first.”

As the group followed the teacher, Olujimi murmured to his three friends, “I liked that Scabbini lady.”

“Ha! I did too,” Allie chuckled.

“Mm, even though I know the dangers...she still kinda took me off guard,” Stonewall remarked.

“Yeah, that was pretty intense to be honest,” Warren agreed. “But whatever, not my concern who pusses out on one of the best opportunities of their life.”

“Or their last,” Allie joked, making Warren snicker. The two of them sniggered even more when some of the students that had heard Allie's remark gave her apprehensive glances.

Stonewall rolled his eyes, saying sarcastically, “Real nice, guys.” They finally arrived at one of the classes; Type Studies; and Moore began her elaboration...

* * *

Warren's home, later that afternoon

“Warren, next Summer Pete is wondering if you'd be interested in working on the farm,” the teen's mother announced as the family sat at the table having dinner. Wayne was too immersed in his meal to pay any attention as Warren looked up at his mother.

“How much is he paying?”

“Ten dollars an hour. He says just general sorts of jobs. Lawn mowing, mulching, animal herding. He says you'll learn as you go along,” she explained.

“Cool,” Warren said, glad of this. A labor intensive job that would keep him fit and healthy until it was time to leave town. Bummer it had to wait until next Summer, though. Working with the animals would be interesting. Non-Pokemon animals existed. Simple minded creatures with no elaborate power and abilities. They were rare in the wild precisely because of these traits; scientists' research showed that it was an evolutionary error prehistorically. The only reason these animals still survived was because the humans kept them and protected them; and thus they are the main sources for meat and dairy.

“Just don't get trampled by cattle,” Wayne said.

“(Ahem,)” Boss said at that, the Ekans raising his head above the table to look at Wayne witheringly. “(I think I'm more than capable of protecting Warren from cattle when he brings me with,)” Boss told him, adding an extra distasteful tone on 'cattle.'

“Alright alright, chill out,” Wayne grumbled at the Snake Pokemon. “Pete wouldn't be happy though.”

“(I don't think Pete would lose much sleep over a dead cow as opposed to a dead Warren),” Fawkes piped up from a corner of the kitchen, raising his head from his food bowl, chunks of raw meat still awaiting to be consumed by the Eevee in their bowl.

“He's got Reggie to help anyway, they always listen to that Mightyena,” Warren stated.

“Yeah, she's definitely a good girl,” Judith agreed. “Pete said he would've liked to hire you now, but he's already got plenty of help for the rest of the season. Next year should be good for you though.”

“If you save up your pay you might be able to buy an old beater car,” Wayne suggested. “Hell, you could probably make a trip to Jubilife City; it's only two hours off.”

“That sounds positutely bad ass,” Warren replied. “But why would I need a car now when I'll be out on Pokemon trails for months on end, maybe even over a year?”

“One: you're eventually coming back,” Judith stated pointedly. “Two: by the time your sixteen and take your driver's test and get the car, you won't need to rely on me driving you to and fro from the farm. You can do it all on your own, and you'll find being able to drive somewhere instead of walking all the time is convenient. And Jubilife, your father makes a valid point.” She smiled a smile of nostalgia as she reminisced fond memories of her youth. “I loved driving to Jubilife when I finally got my own car.” She chuckled. “You couldn't stop me, I was a wild Rapidash.”

“A horny one,” Wayne joked crudely, making her shoot him an indignant look.

“Then I came along and ruined everything,” Warren added, smirking.

“Yeah. You did,” Judith muttered. Wayne snorted, even Fawkes and Boss. Warren continued smirking as he ate.

“That little Eric shit have anything to say to you today?” Wayne asked.

“Yup. Nothing surprising. I always knew he'd want to be a 'rival' trainer.”

“Kick his ass once and he'll leave you alone.”

“I'll need a Pokemon to counter his Gastly. The little stink ball and Boss can't do much against each other.”

“I meant kick his ass yourself. Kick him in the nuts.”

“Yeah, no.”

Judith intervened, “Or you can not listen to your father and just avoid him for the entirety of the trip.”

“That's the plan. And since when do I listen to Dad?”

“You don't,” he answered himself.

“Exactly,” Warren replied.

Wayne praised mildly, “Good boy,” leaving it at that.

* * *

Three days passed since the first day of academy. Warren and the others were already falling into the routine of the establishment, and enjoying themselves for the most part. Stonewall and Allie had chosen their Piplups when they were offered the choice of starters at the end of the first school day, and they had all been mingling and getting accustomed with the circle of friends that they had been brought into. The teachers were likeable, the dean was elusive; but her Rampardos got around, and he liked to give orders. And being the intimidating dinosaur Pokemon he is, those orders were always executed. He wasn't mean, at least not intentionally, but he was authoritative and had high expectations. Warren liked him to be honest. Mostly because one doesn't see many Pokemon ordering humans around. He even had authority over the other teachers; and from what Warren was told, he and Dean Scabbini were equals. He had yet to see her other Pokemon though, and he was told she only had two others. Both Rock Types: a Golem and a Tyranitar.

It was the end of the day now as Warren, Allie, Olujimi and Stonewall exited the building with the other students; all heading to the school buses that would return them to their homes.

“You guys going home or you wanna head to town?” Warren asked them.

“Sorry, I've got some butchering to do back home,” Allie answered as she adjusted the backpack on her shoulder.

“I'm feeling a little lousy right now to be honest,” Stonewall said. “Sick; I think I'm coming down with something. I'm heading back home before I start spreading it.” Already the others had taken subtle steps away from him.

“That sucks,” Allie remarked.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Stonewall grumbled at her.

“You're welcome, Sergeant Sarcasm,” Allie shot back. Olujimi was doing his best to hide a smirk (Warren didn't bother, not shy about displaying amusement).

“I have chores myself,” the African-Sinnian boy stated. “I have to help my father repaint the kitchen; even the ceiling. It's that lousy popcorn plaster stuff on the ceiling; the kind with all the little bumps. Gets all discolored and nasty and full of cobwebs.”

“Oh boo hoo, you have to paint while I stick my arm inside of a wild Pokemon and rip its guts out,” Allie teased in a mocking tone, then she imitated stabbing a knife inside of an animal and ripping out its intestines; making the sounds with her mouth.

“You're making me even more sick,” Stonewall grunted.

“Alright, I'll see you guys,” Warren told them with an amused smile, giving a farewell wave as he made his way down the sidewalk that would take him to the main road, then to town. The others said short farewells to Warren before boarding their buses. Boss raised his head and rested it on top of Warren's tiredly.

“(You made it sound like the academy would be exciting,)” Boss said grumpily. “(I'm not tired from excitement, I'm tired from boredom. I should be tired from excitement, asshat.)”

“If that's the case I'll leave you home from now on until I need you. Oh wait, you'll be bored at home too because all you have is Fawkes to give you company. You know how exciting he is.”

“(Ehhh, yeah...there's no winning,)” Boss mumbled dejectedly, his eyes slowly closing on their own accord.

“Nada,” Warren agreed. A subtle tease. He knew Boss had caught it, but he just chose to ignore it. Feeling bored now himself that his friends weren't amongst him, Warren decided to head off the road to one of three graveyards in town. This one was one of the oldest in town (and as a result: completely filled; there hadn't been a burial in over a century). Some of the graves were illegible and tarnished with lichen and other natural blemishes. The treeline that surrounded it was tall and dark, and there were other tall trees in the cemetery itself that made it darker even more so (the best touch was that one of the trees was an ancient weeping willow, in the darkest and oldest end of the cemetery). The place was inhabited by many Ghost Types, though they never came out at day. Some of them did, however, come out at dusk. They were usually the 'veterans' of the local Ghost Brigade. Warren and his friends had had some encounters with them; reckless kids thinking they were protected by their own Pokemon, so they could tease the little Ghosts that marauded the old cemetery. Although Aganju had proved to be very protective of the kids, letting his flames billow like never before when one of the Ghosts got serious and went after the kids.

Warren looked up at the trees in the afternoon light. The telltale signs of coming Autumn were about. The trees' green were less lustrous than their Summertime hues, and they were more droopy as the air became more and more frigid over time. Some underbrush already had yellowish leaves, and others even had head ruby-red patches of leaves. The general atmosphere and feeling of Fall was weighing on Warren as well. That feeling in the air and in the body; an almost nostalgic feeling of past Autumns. He was glad, as he had been starting to get tired of Summer a few weeks ago. He was ready for chilliness, colorful leaves, freshly harvested root veggies (especially squash and pumpkin), hot apple cider. Then the two holidays of Autumn. Halloween and Thanksgiving (plus the Winter Bonds of December came right after Autumn!).

Ah the Winter Bonds. Back in ancient lore, during the coming of Winter in the final month of a year, families would celebrate...themselves, each other, basically. In a season bereft of color and warmth, people and families would gather together to stave off the sombre feelings of Winter. In the old times, Winter was a much more harsh and miserable time than it is today. The Winter Bonds were almost necessary for the people of Old Days to cope with the season. The holiday began as a small tradition in the Sinnoh and Hoenn regions, where people and families would decorate their homes, villages and even cities with colorful decorations. The most common colors were green and red. Then the people grew into the habit of giving gifts to each other, having large suppers, being generous to complete strangers. And at one point, all it took was one silly old sod—a lonely man in a sleepy village—to get the idea in his head that: 'hey, all these pine trees decorated outside look nice. Wouldn't it look nice if one could cut down a small one and bring it into one's own house?' He did just that. At first people laughed, rather mockingly. Then people saw it inside; they laughed again, but this time in joy. For it was a sweet and charming sight. The idea caught like wildfire, just like the idea of the Winter Bonds itself into what it is today, and its international status that was not exclusive to any particular religion.

Although, sadly today, since dealing with seasons and other harshness of the wild world is more easily done; Winter Bonds has slowly become more commercialized and more about mindless consumerism and gluttony than it is about what it was originally intended for: comfort during hard times. The joke around the world is that it should be renamed Present Season. A short but greedy season. Oh yeah, the perfect way to end an entire year of the world.

Warren didn't give a shit about the greedy people though. When the Winter Bonds came around and friends and family came to his home to join in the festivities and to have a big meal, he was happy with just them. The presents were only second rate. Nice extras rather than requirements.

Warren came out of his thoughts about seasons and holidays as he came to the end of the cemetery and was standing below the weeping willow tree. Below the tree was a statue of a woman; standing barefoot upon a pedestal, wearing a flowing dress. The dress traveled down to her feet, and only her toes were exposed from under the dress. She had her head bowed with a sorrowful expression; and she spread her arms in front of herself, palms up, as if offering to hold her beholder's hands. A comforting gesture in a place normally associated with sadness. No one knew who she was nor where she came from.

Centuries ago, when the town of Twinleaf was young, along with the graveyard; someone or more than one person had erected the statue overnight. It was a sculpture of no one in particular, and at the time there had been several good sculptors living in town. None of those sculptors had recently lost relatives or friends and they did not say they had anything to do with the statue when pressed about it. The town wondered about its origins for a while, but eventually let it be. They let it settle as anonymous benevolence...or something more mysterious. There were several old superstitious stories about it. No one really believed them, but many still liked them as campfire stories and old wives' tales.

Warren was very immersed in the statue, thinking of the old stories he had heard while growing up; Boss was now snoozing on his head. Mostly the stories came from his great grandmother and grandfather. Both of them were still with the family today, in their early eighties; still living in their old home that his grandparents had grown up in; and his own parents, while they had not actually lived in that old house, they were definitely raised there for a good part of their young lives when their immediate parents had been busy. Even Warren had-

The memories were cut off when he was grabbed by the shoulder and yanked around to face someone. He saw Eric's smug face for only an instant before pain exploded in his stomach. He doubled over with an agonized groan, unable to give a loud yell after being hit in such a tender area. Atop his head, Boss awoke with a start, looking around alarmed as his trainer fell onto his side, clutching his abdomen.

“Hey douchewad,” Warren heard Eric greet him, only half-way registering it through the pain. Boss hissed and rattled his tail in fury, slithering from Warren's body and coiling next to him. He revealed his fangs to Eric, fully intending to fill the bastard with so much venom that his blood vessels would burst, but he was suddenly held down by an invisible force; flattened to the ground. Telekinesis. He couldn't compete with it, no matter how much he tried. Amidst the anger he felt to those who had attacked his trainer and friend, it was also rather embarrassing for a creature like him, made solely out of muscle to be overpowered; whether most Poison types are naturally weak to Psychic Types or not.

“Fucker!” Warren managed to spit, trying to force himself up. He was stomped on the back, forced down again into cool grass mixed with fallen leaves. His temperature rose as anger and humiliation overcame his mind. His hands curled into fists, pulling up strands of grass as he did so.

“For fuck's sake, what the fuck did I ever do to you!?” Warren bellowed, his chest swollen and his heart hammering. He felt heavy-headed as blood rushed through his head, hate he rarely felt finally overtaking him. Eric had always been an annoying fly to brush away...now he was a hornet that had stung him. He wanted to stomp on the hornet right about now...but he was the one being stomped by one of Eric's friends. He knew one of them had bought a Ralts from the Poke Mart as his starter, so that must be what was keeping Boss on the ground.

Eric didn't answer him though. He just grinned an enraging toothy smirk and gave a light, casual kick to Warren's head, as if he was kicking a can that had been discarded on the side of a road. Warren felt a headache rush in along with the blood, but his adrenaline kicked into overdrive and he growled.

“You're dead you little cunt!” Warren spat. He jerked under the other person's foot, making him lose a crucial moment of balance. Warren gave a loud growl as he pushed himself up, causing the person above him to stumble back in surprise. The person's young Ralts immediately became worried and fretted over her fallen trainer, losing her concentration on Boss. The moment the Ekans felt the telekinesis release, he struck at Ralts, sinking his fangs into her shoulder and releasing a generous dose of venom.

Warren jumped to his feet as Eric cursed and took a surprised step back. Warren didn't let up though. Fueled by adrenaline and fury, he grabbed Eric by the chest of his jacket and shoved him into a tall headstone, using his weight to force him back. Eric's head struck the hard rock, dazing him enough to let Warren rear his fist and ram it with all his might into Eric's eye. That was when Warren's vision was filled with a dark purple mist. He breathed it in by mistake and instantly regretted it. The headache increased fivefold, the stench of the poison air overcame his nostrils, making him gag and wretch. His eyes burned and watered and he felt dizzy. He stumbled back and felt himself fall down. He fell out of the cloud of poison air, but his vision was still fuzzy and dark from residue. He could barely make out the branches of the weeping willow above his head.

“Let's get the fuck outta here!” he heard Eric yell distantly, followed by an affirmation by the Gastly Eduardo. That little shit must've done this to him. Warren heard Boss beside him next, calling his name alarm.

“I'm fine,” Warren uttered, gaping and tearing at the intense fumes that that little terror of Eric's had probably breathed into his face. He was far from fine though. “I just need a minute.” He needed more than a damn minute.

Warren rubbed his eyes gingerly, wincing as he did so. They were sore, wet and puffy. His nose was running and his breath felt hot and it stung his throat; like the air he had accidentally sucked into his lungs still lingered inside. He felt his was going to vomit...and that kick the stomach earlier was not helping any. He rolled onto his knees and gripped a headstone like it was holding him from being sucked into a nearby tornado.

“Warren...” Boss said uneasily.

“I'm fine, just shut up!” Warren snapped. He immediately regretted that as Boss gave him a stung but none too pleased look. Before the Ekans could retort, Warren said, “No, I'm sorry...what about you? That Ralts had an advantage over you.”

“(Humph...that may be so, but that venom I gave it as a parting gift made her rather dizzy. She was more worried about her trainer than anything else anyway, little spaz. She left with him and those other fucks).”

“No one needs to know about this...I'm not causing a fuss, that's too much crap to deal with...” Warren muttered, turning and propping his back onto the headstone. Boss slithered up beside him and watched him carefully.

“(Oh yeah? What about Eric? People aren't gonna miss the black eye that's forming this very second.)”

“Eric's got too much pride to admit that I socked him good...” Warren smiled wryly. Boss did so as well.

“(Yeah, well, people are gonna notice the teary-eyed, snotty mess you are.)” Warren chuckled and wiped his nose with his sleeve, then his eyes.

“I'll just tell everyone I cried during the Titanic. They're doing one of those replays at the theater in town,” he joked, making Boss laugh.

“(You would, wouldn't you?)” he teased.

“Oh yeah...and the song at the end kills me.”

Warren slowly climbed to his feet, his balance wobbling, but for the most part stable.

“Arceus damn it,” Warren sniffled, continuing to wipe his nose and eyes. “I'd rather take pepper spray.”

“(Actually, that little puff of breath that ol' Eduardo gave you is less powerful than actual pepper spray, since he's such a young Gastly)” Boss stated matter-of-factly, climbing up on Warren's shoulders again. “(If we stop at the pond down the road you could easily wash it away.)”

“You been reading my homework or somethin'?” Warren asked as he began walking steadily again towards the cemetery's exit.

“(Nah, I just saw it on a History Channel show about Pokemon in law enforcement,)” Boss answered. “(If only I could turn everything on and change channels myself, instead of waiting for someone to turn it on.)”

“Yeah, that's too bad.”

“(Eh, not so much. I'm not that glued to TV. I can pester your parents into changing the channel anyway. Even Fawkes.)”

“Yeah, Fawkes watches classic Doctor Who every night. And I mean it, every night.”

“(No shit?)” Boss asked, legitimately surprised.

“Oh yeah! Twelve AM on BBC. I swear the little fluffball has a psychic clock in his head, going off at midnight. I've felt him get up in the middle of the night and climb over me and out of bed. Moments later, I can just hear the TV from down the hall and see its slight glow.” The two of them chuckled.

“(Wow, I didn't know that. After being around for these years too.)”

“Well you're out like a light by eight most of them time.”

The two of them had gone down the road a little ways, and on the left was a dirt road in the woods that lead to the local pond. It was a decent sized pond; big enough for fishing boats and some pontoon boats that hung out near small lake houses. It was a prime place for ice fishing when Winter came around as well. Several private drives headed to all banks of the pond, but the road Warren took was public. It lead to a dirt parking lot beside a medium-sized inn that offered canoes and kayaks to tourists. There was a mini marina with rental sports boats, more pontoon boats and simple row boats. One of the richer families of town didn't even have a house to go with their private jetty, for the house was a boat itself. Their fancy schmancy houseboat couldn't be missed even in the most secluded and quiet corner of the pond. The pond itself was shaped like a lumpy, fat crescent moon. Dusk on the pond was spectacular...well, any time of the day on the pond was spectacular.

Warren made his way down to the bank beside the parking lot, where there was a boat ramp for trucks to back their trailers into the water to launch and pick up their boats. Standing on the shore was an older man with a camera, a professional one by the looks of it. He snapped away at the pond. Warren knelt by the shore and splashed his face with water. He never had felt anything so refreshing and soothing in his life; the water washed off that foul residue from his eyes, face. He even took a drink of it to help his dried and sore throat.

“Got some wicked allergies there, eh?” the photographer commented beside Warren. He smiled wryly again.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he answered.

“Heh,” was the photographer's chuckle before he snapped the lens' cap on and made his way back to the inn.

“(Feeling better?)” Boss inquired.

“Meh.”

“(Yep,)” the Snake Pokemon sighed, looking at the view of the pond. The sun was closing in on the horizon, casting long shadows and glowing a light gold on the trees and the water. Warren turned to look at the inn. A two story building; with a dining and recreational area on the first floor, and the second floor with all of the rooms. A screened-in porch jutted out to sit on the bank of the pond, where there were more dining tables and a dance floor in the middle of the outside room. They commonly had live bands. Mostly locals bands. Blues, Rock, Folk, and occasionally a Celtic band or a solo singer-songwriter. Warren and his family occasionally went to see one of their favorite bands or singers and have a good bite to eat. Warren hoped one day, when he had good money, to have his own pond house on a shore with a jetty. A tiny place to have some quiet alone time. Hell, he'd like to live there permanently. If he got far in his trainer journey and earned good prize money from that, he'd definitely purchase property here and have a small place built.

“(I'm hungry,)” Boss blurted out. “(But where are we going to eat? But wait! We're standing next to a restaurant!)” Warren smiled and made his way to the inn, not even bothering with a reply.

* * *

“No thanks, I'm not hungry,” Warren said to his mother as he stood in the kitchen doorway. His dinner was sitting at his end of the table, covered by a pan lid to keep it warm. She looked at him from her end of the table with raised eyebrows, over the screen of her laptop.

“You? Not hungry? Where'd you go to eat just now?” Sharp as ever.

“Lodger's Inn. Right on the porch!”

She smirked at him and asked, “A romantic dinner with Boss?” From the ground Boss gave an annoyed hiss at Judith before heading out of the kitchen and to the living room where Wayne was watching the television.

“Oh yeah. Then we rented a row boat and went to the middle of the lake where we made out...although...” he trailed off and lifted the lid off his dinner plate. He beheld one of his favorite dinners of all time: chicken enchilada casserole. Smothered in cheese and sour cream. “I didn't order desert there, so I gotta have something to compensate.”

“Nothing can compensate for the bottomless pit,” Judith said with a roll of her eyes as she began working on her laptop again, while Warren sat down and began cutting up his second dinner. Ah, growing boys.

Fawkes, who had been sitting by the sliding back door watching the trees in the backyard, turned his head to Warren and said, “And then you'll have desert. To complete the day.”

“We still got that strawberry cheese cake in the fridge?” Warren asked Judith.

“Yes, dear,” she sighed.

“In answer to your statement, Fawkes: yes.”

“Nope!” Wayne voice suddenly sounded from the living room. “I had the last piece.”

“Seriously?” Warren asked.

“Yup.”

“Well, guess I'm walking to the grocery store for some Ben and Jerry's,” said Warren before taking a bite of his enchilada.

* * *

Dusk was slowly turning into twilight as Warren stepped through the sliding doors of the grocery store, the babble of customers and beeps of register scanners ringing in the air. The bright building was lit by the white florescent lights standard in most public domains these days. Boss of course was coiled around Warren as the young teen made his way to the frozen food section and browsed the Ben and Jerry's portion.

“Warren?” Boss asked while the boy surveyed his options thoughtfully.

“Hm?”

“(Seeing as we're going to be Bond Siblings soon, I might as well take the first step to complete honesty and trustworthiness,)” Boss said carefully.

Bond Siblings, it was the connection that a trainer gained with their Pokemon over the years and time spent being exposed to each other. Warren had a similar case with Fawkes; he could have slight emotional readings from the Eevee. He could feel, in a corner of his heart, that Fawkes could be sad or happy or confused. Although it would be somewhat stronger and sharper with Boss and other Pokemon he would capture and be exposed to during his journeys. Since they would rely on each other to stay alive, and come closer together during battles and hard times in the outside world; their connection would be stronger than simply being pet-to-master. Though both could be cherished equally; an emotional connection was a sacred link to those that were able to form one with their Pokemon.

Warren glanced sidelong at Boss as he moved his head to look at Warren back.

“Sure thing,” the boy said. “But I have a feeling this implies something you need to get off your chest.”

“(...sometimes I lick up your ice cream. Obviously it's unnecessary for the diet of an Ekans and other snake-like Pokemon...but it just tastes so damn good. So, sorry.)” Warren snorted and began laughing, shaking his head.

“Dude, whatever. I don't care. Though I didn't think a species that swallows their food whole would bother needing to taste.”

“(Well, smart-ass, I smell with my tongue don't I? Obviously I can taste, otherwise there'd be no reason for me to flick my tongue.)”

“Well then you should use it professionally instead of using it so...frivolously!” Warren mocked lightheartedly.

“(Professionally? What the hell is that even supposed to mean; it's not a profession, it's instinct!)”

“Heheh, suuure it is.”

“(Heh...)” Boss trailed off and became earnest. “(But seriously though...it was a cat fight back at the cemetery, but to me what happened was pretty intense.)”

Warren frowned now, looking at the selections of ice cream. The Unovan political satirist, Stephen Colbert, was plastered on the packaging of his 'Unovacone Dream' B&J's flavor; giving a stern look behind his glasses and pointing at the viewer. Uncle Sam didn't have jack shit on Uncle Stephen.

“It was, yeah,” Warren spoke, absently opening the fridge door and grabbing the Unovacone Dream flavor. “Fuckin' weird, huh? Going through school with the dean getting all hard ass on us, and learning about the dangers of battling...then we really learn about the dangers when some guy is just being a dick and trying to beat us up.”

“(Yeah...thing is, with that goddamn Psychic...I never felt so helpless before. If they had been more than 'dicks...' they might have gotten in more than a couple of kicks.)”

Warren looked at Boss, and when he did, he saw the Ekans in a new light. For the past two years he had been a stubborn tease; a friend, but kind of a jerk. They had grown close now, but Warren felt a turn in the wind at the look Boss gave him. At that moment, he could've swore he felt the Bond between he and Boss's hearts connect. Like a string had been connected and pulled taut, and that string had linked their emotions. Warren felt the worry...and underlying fear that came from Boss, the concern for Warren's safety.

“Boss...”

Boss smiled a little at that. “(Kinda funny...we're experiencing something life-changing and you call me that silly name.)”

“Aw it ain't silly...well, it is, but it's your name and a part of you,” Warren answered, smiling himself. “And hey, you won't be helpless come a few years...hell, you're not helpless at all. You've got some wicked venom in those fangs of yours. You're on your guard, when your coiled on me. I feel like I've got a flak fest on with you on me...full body armor, dude. To be really honest...I don't feel all that safe without you around. Like I'm naked.”

“(I don't think you're safe without me,)” Boss joked.

“Oh yeah, har har, but you're prolly right,” Warren agreed. “That was the first time I punched someone. Ever.”

“(And it felt good, am I right?)”

“Tch, not really. But I do what I have to do.” Warren switched the pint of ice cream from one hand to the other, the one that had been holding it during the entire conversation aching from the cold. He started out of the frozen food section for the check-out lines.

“(At least I know you can sorta-kinda defend yourself if I'm out of the picture,)” Boss shot back slyly.

“'Out of the picture' implies you got killed, so don't say that again.”

“(Oh man up, I didn't mean if I was dead,)” Boss said indignantly.

Warren stopped at the 'ten items or less' register and placed it on the conveyor belt, which was off due to lack of traffic. The woman ran it through the scanner and gave him the price. When he was finished purchasing the item he stepped into the cool dusk air and began his trek home.

“I'd head home if something terrible happened to you on the journey,” Warren said.

“(Um, yeah, can we not talk about it? Lighten up,)” Boss retorted irritably. “(Eat your damn ice cream).”

“I don't have a spoon, smart ass,” Warren returned agitatedly.

“(You're gonna be a horrible trainer. Not bringing utensils with you out here in the outside world!)” Now he was just teasing again.

“Yeah, you're right. Maybe I'll even forget to feed my Pokemon, and leave him sitting in a hot car in the sun all day.”

“(I can find my own food, thank you very much. Plus I'm cold blooded, I wouldn't give a fuck if you left me in a hot car.)”

“Fine, a cold car in the dead of winter in a blizzard...at night.”

“(Okay, that's a disturbing prospect.)”

“Know your place and it won't happen!”

“(How about I just bite your face and paralyze you right now and swallow your ice cream whole?)”

“Then when I was able to move again I'd have Allie kill you and make you into a stylish scarf. Wouldn't be very useful for warmth, but I can just act like an eccentric billionaire when I flaunt it about.”

“Hey! Warren!” called Allie's voice from behind him. He turned around in surprise and saw his friend jogging up to him, holding a grocery bag in one hand. Must've missed her when he was in the store.

“Hey, what's up?” he greeted her.

“Did you get in a fight with Eric?” she asked suddenly, smiling excitedly. Once more Warren was taken aback.

“Oh...yeah, how'd you find out?”

“I saw him behind the food store with his friends. Dude had a black eye and was talking very hatefully about you. Dude, did you sock him?”

“Yeah, after he kicked my ass,” Warren muttered. “First in the stomach, then in the head when I was down.” Allie's smile had been wiped away at that; frighteningly fast it had been replaced with icy, angry glare.

“(That fucking Ralts held me down,)” Boss piped up, getting her attention next. “(Then it breathed poison in Warren's face.)”

Oh you did it now... Warren groaned mentally as Allie's face became dark as cloudy midnight sky. A moment later she had dropped her bag of groceries, the sound of something glass breaking inside as he stomped back in the direction of the food store.

“Allie, no!” Warren said in alarm, following her. “Fucking forget about him! Not only are we outnumbered, but we could get our Pokemon rights suspended.”

“Warren, we need to get even with him after what he did to you. I'll help,” she said determinedly, looking forward with a grim expression as they got ever closer to the building.

“I did get even with him, I gave the shit a black eye, you said it yourself.” When it was apparent that 'reason' wasn't on her list of things to listen to at the moment, he grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at him. “Will you just calm the fuck down?!” he shouted.

“Do you not want me to help you?” she demanded. “Okay, fine, I'll make a note of that for the fucking future!”

“Will you just listen to me for one goddamn minute,” he hissed, his impatience at its limit. But she broke from him and ran to the store. He rushed after her and managed to stop her just before she got to round the corner to where Eric was.

“Goddamn it, Allie!” he ejaculated, though in a hushed voice so Eric and company would not overhear. His face was inches from hers, and he could see clearly the furious glare that was now directed at him. Damn her temper.

“Warren, I'm your fucking friend,” she hissed. “And I'm not gonna let you roll over for the sonuvabitch. Oh wow, you punched him in the eye. You really think that'll stop him there?!”

“I told you to listen to me!” he snarled, his spittle getting on her face. That was when she shoved him, nearly causing him to fall. That set off Boss as he hissed dangerously and rattled his tail in warning.

“Well fuck you, Warren!” she shouted, not bothering to whisper anymore. “Can't ever accept help from your friends, always acting like everything's fucking alright! Like your indifference will make everything disappear auto-fucking-magically!”

“Oh, well, you know what, Allie? Fuck you too!” he bellowed. “God damn 'shoot first, ask questions later' redneck bitch from the hills have eyes!” Just as Allie opened her mouth to scream something back, a round of applause came from the corner of the store. There Eric and his other four companions clapped and whistled in sarcastic praise, smiling devilishly. All of their Pokemon were out, and that one guy's Ralts was staring daggers at Boss, who rattled his tail in return. But Warren felt him coil around his body tighter than he had ever done. He wasn't nervous now; he was downright frightened. He could feel it over their Bond. Through Warren's own anxiety of the situation, he felt the foreign anxiety of Boss's in a small portion of his heart and soul.

“Glad you came to us, it saved us some time,” Eric said to Warren. Then he gave a lustful glance to Allie. “And you brought the fuck bucket with you too,” said he. She went rigid with outrage, her chest swelling. In her hand she expanded her Pokeball and let her finger hover over the release catch. Eric's cronies guffawed at the 'joke,' if it could even be called such a thing.

“What? You gonna kill me and rape Allie behind Mickey's Grocery Store during business hours? The sun hasn't even gone completely down yet, ya ninny,” Warren said coolly, trying to handle Eric like he usually did. But in the back of his mind he knew that like last time, he wouldn't be able to deal with him the usual way.

“Well hey, it's a work night, no one else is out,” Eric said with a shrug. “We can keep it quiet enough so people inside won't hear. Why the fuck not?”

“Bitch please, you won't even get to see my underwear,” Allie growled, and with that, she kicked a tin bucket that had been on the ground at Eric's head. Warren knew what was coming next as he saw the Ralts raise her arms quickly. Before the bucket even stopped before Eric's face, thanks to a psychic barrier, he said to Boss, “Get the little shit!”

With great speed Boss sprang from Warren's shoulders and sank his fangs into Ralt's neck. She squealed in surprise and pain and pushed Boss off of herself telekinetically. But while that had been happening, not only had Allie released her Piplup, but Warren picked up the nearest tin trashcan and lifted it over his head. Still dazed from the poisonous attack, the young and inexperienced Ralts didn't have time to react as Warren hurled the trashcan at it. It squealed once more as it was ground into the pavement by the object.

“Ellen!” one of the cronies cried in fright, rushing over to the seemingly unconscious Pokemon.

Warren smelled the Gastly's coming before even seeing it. He dove to the side and did a side roll as the Ghost-Poison Type descended on him, spewing more noxious fumes. No way in hell he was dealing with that again. Sebego Pond wasn't even close on top of that. Warren saw out of the corner of his eye that Boss had coiled himself tightly around a Rattata while its trainer was trying to pry the Ekans off; fat chance. He saw Allie trying to fend Eric and another boy off while her Piplup was battling against another Piplup; both were getting nowhere fast. Warren ran to assist Allie as she was quickly being overwhelmed by the boys, but he had to duck another spew of fumes by Eduardo. However, the remaining enemy Pokemon, a Chimchar, sprang in his face and delivered a blow to his jaw. He cried out as he was knocked to the ground.

“Warren!” he heard Boss cry, loosening his grip on the near unconscious Rattata to assist him; but as he did that, the trainer who had been trying desperately to break the grip raised his foot and stomped on Boss.

“Boss!” Warren exclaimed, true fear stabbing into his heart as the Snake Pokemon twitched at the violent attack. He tried to get back up, but was hit in the head once more by Chimchar. He heard Allie shouting his name now, and the name of her Piplup: Ethan. He must be down too.

“Yeah, got you, you fuckers!” the owner of the Rattata crowed, doing this gay little celebratory dance. “How do you like us now, bizatches?!”

“Fuck you!” Allie shrieked. “I'll fuckin' murder all of you!” With that Eric punched her in the stomach, causing her to double over. Warren roared and tried to get up again. Blinded by rage, he didn't have the sense to know Chimchar would knock him down again. Chimchar was indeed about to do that as Warren climbed onto his hands and knees, but everyone was interrupted by a great stomp that shook the ground.

And the next thing they heard was low, grating growl of a familiar and intimidating voice, “Enough you fools, or you will force me to take action.” They turned their heads in time to see the form of Bronson the Rampardos come lumbering out of the shadows, his expression greatly displeased and his crimson eyes hard and cold.

No one moved for a second, they just stared at him. Allie still being held by Eric and his friend. Boss, now recovered somewhat, shakily raised his head to look at the Head Butt Pokemon. The Ralts's trainer knelt over his stirring Pokemon, though his gaze was fixated on Bronson. Eduardo floated nervously above everyone else, but Bronson had given him a deadly look to make sure he stayed in line in his presence. The Rattata trainer was frozen stupidly in mid dance, gaping like a buffoon.

Then a second later, the Dancing King started stuttering moronically, his voice raised an octave, “You- fuck- sonuva- Bronson- fuck! I mean, what, no! This- fuck you, you old dinosaur!” Bronson gave him a flat look now, blinking slowly; unimpressed. But the kid carried on, “Fuck you and fuck the dean! We're not scared of you, right, Marcel?!” he said down to his Rattata. It was unconscious and made no reply. “Er, you-”

Only instead of a stutter cutting him off again, Bronson had twisted around delivered a hefty whack to the boy with his tail, sending him sailing into the air and into a pile of trash bags. Turning around again, Bronson ordered mildly, “Silence from you.” He turned his attention to Eric and the other. “Let the girl go.” They obliged. When released, she instantly turned around and gave Eric a swift kick in the crotch. He gasped in pain while his eyes bulged, clutching his agonized testicles as he shakily tried to stay standing; his knees buckling unstably.

“No cheap-shots, however merited,” Bronson told her sternly. She seemed satisfied though and had no problem listening to Bronson's orders. “I would just like to say I will be watching you all from now on. That also goes for you, Allie Brook and Warren Albanese. I will not tolerate this behavior, though I am being gracious to let it pass this one time, without even telling the Dean. Do I make myself clear?” The lot of them mumbled 'yes, sirs,' with bowed heads; even the Pokemon. Bronson made no parting reply as he turned and lumbered away once more. He was a very independent Pokemon, commonly seen wandering the town without his Trainer present. Tonight was obviously one of those alone nights.

Warren picked himself up again and went to Boss. Allie and Ethan went over to them as Eric and the others all quickly dispersed, giving fleeting looks to Allie and Warren.

“Everyone okay?” she asked breathlessly, her hair askew and clothing dirty.

“Boss?” Warren asked, on his knees and gingerly resting his hand on the spot the Ekans had been stepped on.

“(Don't worry, I'll be taking much more once we get into battles,)” Boss said with a smile. “(The only person you should be worried about is you, incompetent squishy human.)” Warren rolled his eyes and sighed in relief. “(Well come on!)” Boss said as if the whole thing had never even happened, taking his place on Warren's torso once more. “(You dropped the Unovacone Dream somewhere. It should still be good though.)”

“Got it!” Allie said. Warren looked to her and saw her a little ways away as she bent over and picked up the pint of ice cream he had dropped. “Not even dirty,” she said, approaching him and offering it, smiling. Just as he reached to take it, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

“You were right, I'm sorry,” she said in his ear. “It was stupid of me to want to fight.” He smiled and returned the embrace.

“I'm just glad you're okay.”

“Eh, they wouldn't have had the guts to really rape me,” she said dismissively, releasing Warren and giving him back his treat. She really didn't look that concerned. Warren couldn't shake his own worry, though.

“You sure you okay?”

“I'm fine,” she answered, then looked down at Ethan, who had a small cut on his shoulder and a lump on his head, but otherwise looked well. “Ethan got it worse than me, and he ain't bad.” Ethan smiled up at Allie and made a cheerful chirp. What mad mad friends Warren had (he counted himself amongst the mad as well). Being in such a light mood after that hair-raising experience. “Although I can't say the same about my groceries up yonder street,” she murmured, looking up said street to the spot on the sidewalk where she had dropped her bag. It looked very wet.

“That was Boylan soda in the bags, they make them in glass bottles,” she explained, then added, “No cheap-ass Coca-Cola and other assorted processed bubble-gum bullshit for this young lady.” She jerked a thumb at her own chest.

“And by 'bubble-gum bullshit' you don't mean just bubble-gum, do you?” Warren stated. She smiled playfully at him.

“'Course not, Warhead.” She gave a sigh as she began walking up the sidewalk again. “I guess it's time I salvage the remains of my treasure trove. You head home, boy.”

“Aww, you don't want me to continue to fret over you as an over-concerned male for a damsel in no distress?”

“Get out!” she laughed, turning around and giving him a playful push. “Go to bed, kiddo!”

“Whatever you bumb ditch, I'll see you tomorrow.” She waved for a moment before turning around again to gather the remains of her groceries.

As Warren walked back home, Boss said, “(Well, that whole thing certainly didn't boost my confidence.)”

“Come on, man,” Warren said, nudging his head sideways into the Ekans' head. “Let's forget about it.”

“Mm...” Boss murmured despondently.

“A night's rest will do us good...it'll be alright, man.”

“(You're just saying that.)”

“No I'm not.”

“(You're in just a shitty mood as me.)”

“No shit...but I believe we'll be fine, okay? Cut me some slack, you know I'm crappy when it comes to comforting people. I can never get past the old 'everything's gonna be fine' cliches.”

“(Loser).”

“Thanks.” It was quiet after that, and for the whole walk home. Both trying to shake off the melancholy that had slowly overtaken them again, they went to bed early. Fawkes was there and curled up on the bed and only did stir when Warren went under the covers.

“Warren?” Fawkes murmured, then sniffed. He perked at that and gave a worried look to Warren. “(You reek of other Pokemon...and of the scents they give off when angry and battling.)”

“Uggh...not now, Fawkes, I'm stressed out enough,” Warren groaned, facing away from the Eevee as he pulled the blankets over his shoulders. Fawkes, sitting up now, watched the back of Warren's head carefully, waiting to see if he'd actually decide to talk about it on his own. Then from the floor, Boss slithered up onto the bed. He approached Warren and coiled up by his chest. This took Fawkes by surprise. Rarely did he sleep so closely to Warren. Only when both were very troubled. And that had only been twice in the two years since Boss had been taken into the family. Fawkes knew he would have to break the ice on whatever issue that was looming over his friends' consciences.

“Warren, (talk to me. Tell me what happened,)” Fawkes tried again.

Boss raised his head and fixed a firm glower on Fawkes, then said, “(He told you to fuck off.)” Fawkes did his best to cover the outrage he felt at that.

I've known Warren allot fucking longer than you, snake, Fawkes growled in his mind, but kept the words from escaping his mouth. He expected Warren to intervene and tell Boss off anyway...a moment passed before Fawkes realized he wasn't, as the young teen remained silent. That stung him a little. But he didn't give up easily. Fawkes hopped over Warren's legs and went to face him, but before he could get by Boss the Ekans raised his head and rattled his tail. Fawkes' hair stood on end and his tail puffed, but more in anger than fear. Now you're threatening me, vermin?!

Before either Pokemon could make another reaction, Warren sat up and snapped, “Both of you shut the fuck up and let me sleep!” He slammed his head into the pillows and covered his head with his blankets. Boss settled down once more, deciding to ignore Fawkes now as he closed his eyes. But Fawkes' ears were slunk and his heart was heavy and aching. He turned away from Warren and Boss and dropped off of the bed.

What the hell happened to you, Warren? Fawkes thought, padding out of the room to sleep on the couch tonight. It was obvious Warren needed some time to himself. And Boss. But as Fawkes climbed on the couch to settle down, he realized...he was starting to feel jealous. Of Boss.

Four more years and the two of them will be gone for...for a very long time. As Fawkes thought of this, the ramifications of Warren's absence finally sunk in. They had never been far apart...not ever. Even on vacations in different regions and countries, they had always been together. Warren leaving on his journey would be the first time they would ever be far apart; and not just for an extended amount of time. Even briefly they had never been far apart.

Does Warren even realize this? No, he's too concerned with his lessons... Fawkes whispered to himself mentally. He shook his head. No, he'd worry about this when it got there. Four years to go...but even the usual 'four years to go' self-assurance didn't work this time. It had finally sunk in permanently...and he'd had to live with that for the next four years.
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