Vixenscratch

Short stories and serials by Alexandra Herakai

Archive for the ‘If Lost or Stolen This Pokédex Cannot be Replaced’ Category

A Crack in the Shell

<<< Go back to Treasure in the Rubble

“So you’re saying that Team Rocket are doing experiments to try to make… some sort of obedient half-Pokémon supersoldiers, and that’s how you came about? And that your Eevee is another of their experiments?”

Darren nodded, grimly. “Fox can evolve into any of Eevee’s evolution forms at will, but I warned him that we’d be separated if they knew, so he never let it on to them. They think we’re both failures, and Starlit, my Blissey, was a disappointment since she refuses to come out of her Pokéball. They were just humoring me to let me have them.”

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Treasure in the Rubble

<<< Go back to One Good Move

Darren caught up with his companions considerably sooner than he’d expected, even slowed down by not being able to see the uneven rock floor. They’d stopped to wait when they’d heard the rumble of falling rocks, and far as he could tell in the flickering light from the Charmander’s tail, the girl looked relieved to see him. Her eyebrows pinched together a bit, however, when she saw him limping.

“Are you hurt?”

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One Good Move

<<< Go back to Fifteen Feet Under

They hadn’t run far when Fox flew up and landed on Darren’s shoulders, where he reverted to Eevee form — drawing a gasp of surprise from the girl — and settled down to rest, draped with his forelegs on one side of Darren’s neck and his tail on the other. So far, no sound but their footsteps carried down the corridor, and Darren almost dared hope that they’d managed to shake his pursuer.

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Obedience Lesson

<<< Go back to A Dex of My Own

Darren hadn’t forgotten about the conversation he’d overheard, far from, but it had ceased to haunt every moment of his days. He resented many parts of his daily routine, though perhaps most the part where he was locked in that bare room every night after dinner, not least because so much of it was focused on one of two despicable things: either he was treated like a barely-sentient tool, the way most of the Rocket members’ own Pokémon were, or someone was trying to mold him into one of them, something he had little interest in. He’d seen just enough of the real world to know that he in no way desired their approval.

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A Dex of My Own

The room was dark. Not pitch black, but a dusky sort of half-assed darkness, light leaking in around the closed — and locked — door. A cot stood in one corner, a form curled up on it, covered by a blanket, though the light from the door did reflect on what might have been a tail covered in orange scales sticking out from under the cover and spilling over the edge of the simple bed.

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