Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ RAVEN ❯ Scratch one on the father table ( Chapter 1 )

Scratch one on the father table

By Obsidian Blade

Concentrate. I held my hands ready in fists, adjusting my stance by a fraction of an inch as my eyes never left the chest of my opponent.

All attacks make the torso move. Even the slightest twitch can give away an oncoming attack. There. A ripple in the cloth covering the left breast. A roundhouse kick snaked up the right side, knocking my enemy out of a potential attack.

Always push every advantage to its full. I kept up a barrage of assault; kick after punch after uppercut after elbow slam. My opponent staggered and cursed, somehow escaping my offence long enough to pull back.

They always have another trick up their sleeve. He sneered at me and wiped a droplet of blood from his lips.

Make sure you gain from it. "You're not so bad, for a girl." He decided, "But I can still win."

If your concentration never wavers… He leapt forward, attempting to use his massive bodyweight to slam me back into the dust.

…then nothing can stop you. I flipped back to escape, letting him trip and stumble before dealing a swift uppercut to the jaw. There was a moment in which absolute fury reigned in his eyes and then he let rip the offence I had been expecting; the 'trick' he had apparently 'hidden' for most of the battle.

Every enemy has attacks… I blocked a hard punch, trying to ignore the splitting pain that snaking up my arm from the elbow to the wrist. No time to recover, he was still on me.

Every enemy has strengths… He managed to land a full hit in my gut, sending me staggering back in pain. But pain wasn't enough to beat me, I'd felt enough of it already to last a decade.

But every enemy also has weaknesses… Purposefully taking a glancing blow to the shoulder I slammed a high kick into his chin, sending his head cracking back with a force strong enough to shatter the trunk of a tree.

Exploit them and the battle is yours. After the chin blow all he could do was block weakly as I pressed the attack once again, landing hit after hit after hit despite his desperate attempts to defend himself.

Take it while it's hot… I forced him to the edge of the cruel cement arena and then gave him a roundhouse kick, sending his heavy-weighted body flying out into the empty bleachers.

…and you'll see it's not so hard. "You alright, Jeza?" I called, leaping from the arena and landing lightly on one of the long benches.
"As fine as I can be after a fight with you." The boy replied, grinning up at me through a sweat soaked mop of brown hair. I hauled him to his feet with one hand, ignoring my own sweat that dripped down my face and stung my eyes. No matter how easy everything seemed while I was still in combat, the after-effects were always there, the menace just waiting to strike when my adrenaline level sank again.
We started to walk towards the changing rooms that were positioned side by side, picking our way over the hard silver bleachers to reach the main isle of dirty concrete steps. The harsh white lights bore down from brackets on the ceiling, leaving nothing in the small arena unlit. Jeza rubbed one leather bound hand against his arm to relieve the pain gathering there, making the skin red and puffy.
"Don't do that," I scolded, flapping a hand at his arm, "Get some ice on it instead."
"Yes Miss Raven," He replied in a droning teacher's pet voice, "You know I'll do anything you ask Miss Raven."
"Shurrup." I ordered, giving him a light slap on the shoulder. We had reached the twin doors to the changing rooms, the familiar stench of cold sweat and dirty clothing combined with bad sewers and a full bin reaching my senses. By now I could bare it without my eyes watering, but I couldn't help but grimace as I stepped inside.
Unwashed fighter's clothes lay strewn about the floor, accompanied by bottles filled with stale water and the mouldy remains of who-knows-what that hid in the darkest corner under a bench. The click and clack of my lock seemed multiplied when I was alone in this room, adding with the atrocious smell and attempting to overwhelm my senses. The first time that happened to me my five-yr-old self was sure I was coming down with a fever. Sometimes I still couldn't shake that feeling today. The locker door swung open and I grabbed my clothes and slammed it shut as fast as I could, trying not to breath in the old egg smell that had permeated this locker for as long as I could remember. I made the shower as quick as I could, standing tip-toe the whole time to keep the most of my feet off the slimy tile floor.
That done I leapt out of the shower room, the sandy floor cutting into my bare feet as I sprinted to my bag, stuffed my clean clothes on my soaking body and raced out of that reeking place. Outside the air was crisp and cold, the ground still wet from the light spring rain we'd had yesterday. The sun was out, but its light was weak and pale compared to the golden shine of summer.
In the lone tree outside the gym a flock of Tailow had taken residence, cheeping cheerily to each other and occasionally fluttering from branch to branch. I had a sudden urge to pick up a stone and take one of them out, but stopped myself. I might be as pissed as I always was at my lame excuse for a father, but that was no reason to take it out on the Pokèmon… Even if they did wake me up every morning at four a.m. with their blasted morning chorus. "You did crap, girl." A deep voice decided from behind me, "You coulda taken out that fool in no time if you'd trained betta."
I turned to face him, keeping my anger under control so I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how his words effected me.
"If you want a good fighter who trains all day all night to achieve your dream get yourself a Machamp. It might actually want to serve you, but why I couldn't guess." I spat.
"If it's more loyal than you I'll take it." My father responded. He took a few steps towards me, aiming to put a hand on my shoulder for a more intimidating impression. "You'll make a good fighter one day, Raven. I'll make sure of it."
His voice was low and menacing, but I didn't let it effect me.
"No." I brushed off his hand and started to walk away, "I don't let wimps take control of my life."
"If I'm a wimp then what are you?!" He shouted after me. I didn't respond, why the Hell should I? It was bad enough that his voice and his instructions always got me through fights without having him enticing retorts out of me too. But now… I put my head back as I walked barefoot out of the cement compound, leaving the potted tree and its Tailow behind. I'd said that I don't let wimps take control of my life, but, if that were true, would I still be wasting my time fighting to carry out my father's dream?
As much as I always tried to deny it, that was what I did every day in that arena. I assured myself it was for my own strength, but this was different, far, far different. I got stronger, true, but as I did my father's dream got nearer. I didn't want that. To Hell with him, I wasn't going to be the good little daddy's girl that did everything for my old man. No, there was going to be something better for me than that. Suddenly a wave of sound exploded from a nearby alleyway, sending my mind into instant alert. I felt my father's intuition trying to slip sneakily into my head, but batted it away.
'I don't need you.'
No matter that this city was filled with slashers and muggers and criminals of all kinds, I could take care of myself without his stupid pointers echoing in my head from when I was a little kid, from when mum was still alive… I snapped my mind out of that train of thought before it could even take me anywhere. If there was a psycho killer down that alley the last place my mind needed to be was with the lingering thoughts of my mother. There would be another time and place for that reverie, but certainly not now. I regained my sharp concentration and crept forward down the dark alleyway, keeping to the cold brick walls to stop myself from being to obvious. Thoughts of sharp objects sneaking across my throat and laying me open flickered across my mind but I barred them out. The fighter with the most concentration would win, no matter size or weight.
I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart beating fast in my chest. No. No way. I couldn't have just thought that, could I?! My father's words, but in my voice? He really was taking control of me, faster than I could even hope to comprehend. It snapped inside of me; I had to get away from this place. Far, far away, away from my sire and away from the memories. If I could get enough distance between us I might manage to escape this nightmare altogether… Suddenly a flashing glint of silver shot towards me, only my heightened reactions saving me from a gory, slashed up death. The steel blade rammed into the wall right where my head had been, sending red dust and chips of the brick flying outwards from the heavy impact. I had been thinking too long. My concentration had broken and now I was the one under attack.
But suddenly I didn't want to get in a fight. Feigning a fall I landed on my left hand and swiped my attacker's legs out from under him. With a loud thud his heavy form slammed home, a groan of pain escaping his throat along with a putrid gush of alcohol breath and swearwords even I hadn't picked up before. I made a mental note to remember those then turned and ran. People in a normal city would have been surprised to see me, the red tinted black haired, amber eyed girl with her arms and fists bound in leather and her feet bare, running through their home, but Malmarsh city was different. They were used to me and my emotion-driven outbursts as much as they were to the Grimer inhabiting the drains.
Right now I was heading for the edge of the Metropolis, ignoring the jarring pain that jolted up my legs with every running step as I snaked around the people and bicycles that barred my way. Everything but myself seemed to be in slow motion, the few people and occasional bikes that cluttered the sidewalks moving at a Slugma's pace as I raced along. Even the cars seemed slow, despite the fact that no-one around here ever did less than thirty-five even around the centre.
I sprinted along the ground, the cement slabs flying beneath my feet in a blur and the cool air pummelling my face and making my eyes water heavily. I felt as if I were trying to outrun the past, or perhaps the future, trying to escape what had happened and what was to come. I knew I couldn't do it, but the sheer speed was clearing my head. I'm not the spiritual type, so I'll blame it on the air and my heart beating the blood around my body faster than a Rapidash runs. Finally I reached the edges of the wooded area, two miles from where I had started. I slid to a stop and did my best to stop myself from falling to the ground. I was exhausted. My heart was pounding in my chest so hard I felt it would tear through me if it kept going and my head was spinning. The edges of my vision fizzed in and out of being as I sank back against a tree trunk, giving in to my body's want for comfort.
After a good fifteen minutes I raised my head from my chest, still panting a little from my run, and gazed out at the hideous concrete mess before me. Smokestacks belched dark fumes into the sky, muddying the once crisp white clouds above and marring the horizon. The buildings were all red or grey, all rectangular, all bearing the same pyramid roofs above and the build up of pollution on the walls.
It was hideous. This place, my home, was absolutely disgusting. I couldn't believe that I lived in this messed-up excuse for a city, breathing in those toxic fumes everyday and walking around like another one of those pre-programmed robots that seemed to patrol every corner. The city was made even uglier when this beautiful forest was at my back. This forest, with its amazing array of greens, reds, pinks, blues and yellows, with its diverse wildlife and its wonderful clean air. Well, I looked back at the city, as clean as you could get when your neighbour was that stinking mass. I threw my bag back at the city with all my might and turned away.
"This is the start of my life," I told myself as I started to walk into the forest, smirking as I heard the clang of my bag landing in a rubbish bin, "So I don't need any of the old trash."
With one hand I rooted about in my pocket in search of some money. I found a stick of gum (half chewed), a hair bobble (coated in mud after being used in a rubber band war), a ticket for the S.S. Tidal and about ¥5,000. I winced, not much, but it would have to do. After all, what else did I have? I smiled at that. I liked where this was heading. I had total freedom. Sure, I had no shoes, a pathetically small amount of money and practically zilch in the possession department, but there was nothing holding me back. There was nothing to lose… and everything to gain.

Okay, some things I have to say. First: This fic isn't a rip off of Keleri's Blackbird, it's just got a similar title. Annnnd I also have to say thanx to Topaz2, authoress of On the Wings of Council: A Pokèmon Journey, cause that gave me inspiration to write in 1st person again. If you haven't already read On the Wings of Council: A Pokèmon Journey then why are you here??? It's very good, like, very VERY good. Oh, and to Siara Angel, thanks for telling me what you really thought about this fic and Pheonix Burst, happy now? I posted it! Now don't bother me about fics again! ::sticks out tongue:: Though you were right, the 7-part 1st person Drake thing was very good practise for this fic. Thanx for all your advise!

Now people, review! I need to know what YOU guys think too. And I know this chapter was a little strange, and the only mention of Pokèmon was the Machamp and Tailow, but there will be some soon. Be patient people, be patient.