Origin Story: Part 1 - Haunted by the Truth

CH08: Shipping Selection

You did your best, sneaking around the city, gathering the supplies that you needed. First, you bought basic supplies, including pokeballs, though you had to go through a shady dealer to get them, at a much higher price. Pokeballs are only sold to Pokemon Trainers with IDs, or adults that are eighteen. So, like anything else, you had to buy that precious item through the black market, and hope that the pokeballs will actually work. To you, they seemed to be worth the price, cause now you could walk around with Spirit, without fearing that his mere presence will be enough for others to catch sight of you.

So, with a pokeball in your pant pocket, you continued on your way, with Don and his murkrow flying around the city, keeping an eye on you as you went about your human business. After buying some shady items from an alley dealer, you made your way to a drug store, buying items like food and drinks, things that you figured would be satisfying to eat. You decided that it's probably not best to stay in one spot for too long, so you'll just eat as you go. You also bought a packet of stationary, envelopes, and a bundle of pens. After paying for your items you found a nice spot to settle down in, a park that led up to Olivine's famous Lighthouse, and you found a secluded spot behind the lighthouse, using the time to be alone with your thoughts.

You were tired. You've barely slept, and maybe you're making sloppy decisions, but... you didn't feel as if you were being watched, well, except by Don and the murkrow, and you felt a relative ease, for the first time in days... weeks, but you know one little slipup could cost you your life, and you have no doubt that you're, at the very least, being tracked somehow.

You needed to disappear, completely. You needed to start an entirely different life.

And... is Team Rocket even an option?

You think not. You'll just bring that trouble to the gang, and you don't want to cause unnecessary trouble to anyone. It's like if you brought these troubles to your friends and family. Even if you decided to join a street gang, eventually your fears will catch up to you, and you would end up killed... or worse.

Honestly, you think there is more to this then what you're seeing, but you don't know much. Your father had been so quiet about what he does for a living, and your mother didn't even know who her killer was.

She was just... protecting you... from something... and that something is what scares you the most.

You've heard the stories of both your father and your aunt being kidnapped from their families, forced into training as assassins, spies. It wasn't clear why your aunt was kidnapped in the first place, even now she doesn't know, and no longer cares, but your father... apparently there's something in your blood. You were born, and because you were born from his family bloodline, you're a target.

A target for what? By whom?? Who wants a little girl anyways?

You wondered if you'd end up kidnapped instead of killed, but honestly... you'd rather die now then live a torturous life anyways, an existence where you cannot make your own choices. The thought of not making your own choices and losing your freedom was horrifying. Sure, it's different if you agree to compensate your freedom for safety or security, but that doesn't mean you want that choice to be taken away from you.

But... could you kill yourself to get rid of that threat in the first place?

... No. No, you don't think you can do it. You don't want to die by your own hands. It doesn't sound very great at all, and besides, there's always a chance to get out of this situation. You just have to hold onto that hope, that hope that seems to dwindle whenever you think about your very gloomy and solitude-based fate.

As for now, you sat eating your recently bought lunch, feeding some of the murkrow that have congregated around you with pieces of ripped up bread, while giving Don and Spirit something to eat as well. Spirit insisted that you ate, but after you were done, you took out the stationary you had recently bought, and began to write. As you wrote, Don suggested that he could have some of his murkrow send the letters for you, but you kindly told him that it wouldn't matter, and you'll do that later, when you're far, far away from here.