The PokèGames (A Pokèmon and Hunger Games Crossover)

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The abandoned house shuddered on the hill, wishing the morning light would come all the sooner to warm its weary walls. It felt so alone, so empty. How long had it been since it heard the laughter of a precious child? How long had it been since it felt the coolness of fresh paint or contained the fragrance of Sunday dinner? As the long yearned for golden rays caressed the timber, the home had realised years ago, that it was now a house. The oldest residents of that abandoned house were the spiders. Many generations had laced the walls with cobwebs of intricate beauty, though now even they lay in dusty rags. It had been three decades since a footstep had echoed within those walls, since the dust had been disturbed and the ghosts awoken. Three generations were when a spark evolved into an uncontrollable fire, and destroyed all the love and peace the world possessed dearly until the world realised ...This was not just fire. It was death. It was a giant wave, a fire storm, rolling in on itself, undulating like some grotesque creature demolishing everything in its path.

The bond that Pokémon and humans share was once something strictly prohibited, yet a bond between a Pokémon and human was once formed. After all, the typical rebel would argue that rules are made to be broken, right?

Ophelia's POV:

It was that kind of friendship that blooms in the center of your heart - that kind of friendship that grows from the seed basking in the warm soil to a vast tree with many ups and downs, many - but not enough to disguise the enormity or the grandeur of such a tree, the sheer brilliance and beauty of it.

I found him. Dark, empty, cold, the room stood silently at the end of the corridor. The fluorescent lights flickered as the walls screamed out in pain, the lifeless shadowed figures curled up in the corners of their cells, whispering their demented secrets.

"Pika..."

The sadness flowed through the Pikachu's veins and deadened his mind. It was a poison to his spirit, dulling his killing off his other emotions until it was the only one that remained. It was as if a black mist had settled upon her and refused to shift, and no matter how bright the day was he would feel no sun and hear no bird song. For the world was lost to him and he knew of nothing that would bring it back into focus. Ophelia's heart sank at the fact that she would have to torture the pitiable, unimpeachable Pikachu for it's existance, for the Governors of Kyapitoru were distressing over the fact that Pokemon may dominate the land. After all, it was the only unscathed place left in the world; the result of Climate Change in the 21st Century. Kyapitorians prefer not to mention the century, and refer it as 'the dark ages'.

Sighing, I mentally stabilized myself for the task I was about to perform.

                                                  I was about to torture a Pokemon.

The guilt felt like a stain on me, an ugly scar that would traumatise me for an eternity. An eternity seemed like an extensive amount of time. Although it seemed quite tempting to abandon the pokemon so it could repose itself for a couple of hours it would face a life of a agony, the wellbeing of my family depended on it. Closing my eyes, I attempted to visualise an existence where the realness of a pokemon being consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. Pain was everything it experienced.

  It does not take much strength to do things, but it requires a great deal of strength to decide what to do. 

"I've always wanted a friend..."

As soon as the words has slipped out, I realised how desperate and stupid I sounded.