Handicap

Handicap

The bike swayed uncomfortably beneath me. I felt the wind in my face. My vision blurred for a moment. Blackness crept around the edges of my sight.
I got off and sat by the side of the road.
I have to warn everyone here.
I think I have a fever.
Burning up, choking, sweating.
I vomited onto the grass.
The bushes rustled.
I turned to see–
Them.
The Pokémon.
A Machop, a Dustox and a Chingling.
Six dead eyes locked on mine.
I made a move for the bike.
Chingling rattled.
The bike bent in two, the psychic power of the Chingling crushing it.
The Dustox’s wings flapped. I could see the paralysing stun spores falling off as it lifted itself higher into the air.
Machop flexed its muscles and adopted a wrestling stance.
Dustox swooped for me.
I dived to one side, trying to avoid the spores.
My hand grabbed a rock. I rolled over and hurled it back up at the butterfly thing.
The rock connected with its face. It fell and landed on the grass.
I run for the downed beast, hoping to crush it with my boot.
The Machop kicked me in the gut.
I sprawled across the grass, unable to breathe. My throat burned. I vomited again.
The Machop picked me up. And held me out.
The Chingling ratted again.
Suddenly there was a fire burning in my head, burning, pulsing, echoing. All I could hear was pain.
I fell to my knees, screaming.
The Machop barked a short, harsh laugh.
It ripped the backpack off me, rummaged through it.
It pulled out the Pokédex and held it up in triumph.
I could feel blood in my ears, my nose.
I tackled the Machop. We both fell to the ground. The Chingling stopped making the dreadful noise, not wanting to hurt its comrade.
I punched the Machop in the face with all my strength. It took my blows.
As I leaned in for more, it grabbed my wrist.
A flick of its hand.
My wrist snapped.
I screamed in pain as the Machop kicked me off.
It stood up and walked towards me.
I crawled away on my one good arm and found the still-dazed Dustox lying face down in the grass.
The Machop leaned down to me.
I spun around, throwing the Dustox in its face. The paralysing spores covered its face. It backed off, hacking and wheezing, before falling to the ground and twitching.
The Chingling bounced towards me, preparing to rattle once more.
I grabbed it by the wings with one hand and slammed it into the ground.
Again and again.
Slam. Slam.
Again and again.
Finally the smooth golden shell of the beast began to crack. The familiar black ooze began to pour out of the rents and tears in its body.
With one final heave, the Chingling shattered into the ground, fragmenting into golden shards and black ooze.
I took a deep breath and walked over to the ruins of my bike.
One metal bar remained intact. I picked it up and hobbled back to the downed Machop.
It gurgled and wheezed beneath me as I lifted the bar above its head. I thrust it down, piercing its eye.
It finally stopped moving, save for the pouring of the black goo from the hole in its face.
The Dustox began to come round. I crushed its head beneath my heel, the ooze sticking to my boot.
I found my Pokédex in the grass, put it in my pocket.
I hobbled on to Eterna City.

They didn’t believe me!
I warned them!
I screamed at them all! The Pokémon are not our friends, they want us dead!
They wouldn’t listen! I showed them my broken wrist, the thick inky goo on my boot!
They locked me up!
I’ll never warn them if they lock me away!
How can I stop the demon creatures now?

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