The Eighth Fight
Man. Today was(n't) my day.
I left my house to find Davis, retreating from a disrespectful community... but, damn. Life threw enemies and misfortunes at me. I was busy hovering over potholes and pebbles, the types that would make your feet bleed. Roots from old and long-gone plants were still embedded in the three meter wide road, going brown until it could be washed away by rain like a stain. The same could be same for pain, if you were patient enough and willing to come to terms with the pain. Despite the seemingly easy solution, it was much harder to confront the pain without being broken by the memories...
I somehow didn't notice myself going in circles. As in, literal circles. I had been displaced only several centimeters in this forest. Waves of green bushes seemingly laughed at me, bouncing in the wind that had picked up briefly. The potholes looked deeper than ever, looking like landmarks of a war. The silence was disturbed silence was broken long ago; the Magikarp was still wailing, being pecked by a bird or two. "Oh... will it just shut up?" I said to myself, the first time since telling a Caterpie to bugger off. I mean, it was as weak as a twig, and it somehow ended up here. Really, it had just walked into a death trap. Yet, it was still alive somehow. Fed up, I-
-got tackled into a tree. "Frickin' trees." I growled, facing the ruthless offender. It was the same Pidgey that was harassing the Magikarp, somehow bigger than the typical one. The size difference pointed out the non-existent relationship between this Pidgey and the bronze-feathered one; the bronze one was currently beating the crap out of the Magikarp. "Frickin' Hell. What's up with you?" I snidely asked it, bouncing it away by leaving a dull ring in its ears. Somehow, I had gotten stuck for half a second, but nature was kind enough to get an annoyed Scatterbug to kick me off. "Just leave me alone, damn it." I got no proper response, because this Pidgey originated from what they called a mystery dungeon. I called it the 'wilderness.' Obviously dazed by the ring, it squawked in my face, or rather my eye. My pupil was probably creeping it out. "You could at least be helpful by telling me if anyone passed-" Before I was able to finish my sentence, I had to jump (float upwards sharply) when it tried to chuck some sand in my eyes. Irony. The move that makes you miss misses. My achievement of dodging a Sand Attack was short-lived, because I remember getting tackled back into the same tree. It wasn't the force of the tackle that got me, but the compression of me against a tree that proved dangerous.
For the Pidgey. Floating via magnetism (at least how Davis explained), I did a back-flip as the Pidgey held onto me, crashing it into the tree like a high-velocity pebble. To add insult to injury, I had shocked it and pricked it with my radar dish. I tilted my head upwards as I faced down, ignoring the cries of the seemingly immortal but tortured Magikarp. I grimaced at the deep marks I made on the tree, looking some this odd cartoon Davis showed me. First, it was a Magnemite cavity. Next, it was a large Pidgey cavity. How was this even possible without snapping a bone? It was as if the tree was made of Styrofoam. Or some other ridiculous thing 'humans' used, which Davis told me about.
I tried to magnet-palm myself, but the magnetism forced my magnet to be repelled. This magnetism is so odd. Why couldn't I have been born a real Magnemite? I thought to myself, looking back at the days when Davis created me... as well as somehow incorporating the Magikarp's screams into my daydream. I sat in a bush and watched the Magikarp, and yet I was awfully hypnotised at its will to live. The show almost ended, because the Pidgey and Magikarp had to move some distance away from the out-grown bush I was in. After all, there was some sunlight coming out of nowhere.
It turned out to be my reflection in the sun. I really should have gone to Allure Town as soon as possible, but I was lazy and Davis was currently just a low priority. I was more focused at the freedom of the world, as well as the hostility of it. Eight times I've been attacked. I fled six. I fought two. Did I survive? Well, I wouldn't be narrating then, would I?
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