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Description
Unnamed Consequences
Chapter 2 - Terror and Salvage

A collaboration story between ~YuseiDarkUmbreon and myself. Any and all characters within this story are the property of said authors. Pokémon and the regions of Kanto, Sinnoh, Hoenn, and Johto all belong to their rightful owners in Nintendo.

Deserted. Abandoned. Hollow. Those feelings choked the air like the smog of a factory smokestack. It filtered through the blank windows of the townhouses and apartments that Dan passed along the similarly empty street. The sidewalks were completely pristine, it was as if no one had ever stepped foot on them. Cars littered the sides of the road every so often, their closed doors and orderly parking showing little signs of chaos.

Dan hardly dared to breathe as he snuck along the very sides of the road, lurking behind mailboxes and concrete pillars to avoid the sight of whoever was watching, if there was anyone left. So far, the entire world, save for Trace and that Rattata, was completely devoid of sentient life. Each breath he sucked into his mildly terrified lungs was rich with the smell of air, unspoiled by the lack of the usual afternoon rush hour through the town center.

Dan casually pondered why we was able to remember all these details about daily life, except key figures such as family, friends, and some lapses in memory. Walking along the empty road, Dan felt truly alone for the first time since waking up. Trace, despite the kid’s naivety and inane claims of being family, was good company, especially since he hadn’t seen another sentient organism, aside from the Rattata, ever since he came to under the tree.

It wasn’t long before he reached he reached his target: a small convenience store located on a corner of what might have normally been a fairly busy street. Unfortunately for him, it instantly disproved any thoughts of his that he and Trace might have been alone in the city. Large front windows were smashed open with a small convertible car that now laid dented and crumpled inside the store. His lightning blue eyes--a factor gifted by his new body--widened in disbelief as he got closer, now able to clearly see claw marks in the body of the vehicle and what appeared to be a stagnant puddle of blood pooling under the crushed driver’s side door.

Dan let out a fearful gulp as he slowly inched along the broken storefront. He was thankful for the new, thick scales on the bottom of his feet providing projection from the sea of broken glass that flooded the floor. The car was completely unrecognizable; every inch of the metal body was crumpled like tin foil and seemed to be squeezed into a rough, lethal ball. Dan felt a cold shiver shoot through him at the thought of what could have possibly possessed that much strength.

”Just, please --please don’t be inside. Please don’t be inside. Please don’t be inside,” his thoughts blindly pleaded as Dan slowly regained control of his legs. Glass crunched under his feet like snowflakes sent by Giratina. The Charmeleon inched his way through the ruined aisles nearest the wrecked car. He tried his best to ignore the strong fumes of decaying flesh and drying blood that emanated from the twisted ball of steel. Shaking his head, Dan concentrated on the shelves of the corner store.

Throughout the entire row, it seemed as if everything had been taken. The top shelves sported only remains of wrappers, boxes, and cans instead of the fully-stocked haven he was expecting. Dan crouched down, getting on eye level with the lower levels of the shelves. Again, the result was mostly the same, though, there was one exception. He reached back and pulled forward a small, miraculously untouched package of gum. The brand name was torn off, yet to Dan, it didn’t matter.

As Dan slowly inhaled the refreshing aroma of fresh mint, his mind flashed with sensations of chewing the gum during a insipidly dull class period, his human self simply waiting for the hands on the clock to move another minute forward. Just as the vision started, it ended, leaving the Charmeleon slightly dazed, yet coordinated enough to keep hold of the package. Dan found a crumpled, plastic, grocery bag almost directly beside the gum, which he stowed inside. Swinging the bag over his shoulder, Dan continued to loot whatever was left.

Unfortunately for the former human, there wasn’t much left in plain sight. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep under the tree since he had transformed, or how much time had passed since he was last human.

How long had it taken order to die? The police? The army? What had happened here? he wondered as he greedily swiped a slim package containing some sort of cheap-brand meat jerky. Dan wished so badly that he could just remember, but no matter how hard he thought, nothing at all came to him.

Seeing no other food or food-like objects in the store, Dan decided to examine the cashier’s counter. He dug his claws into the hardened plastic surface as he clumsily vaulted over the desk. Once he landed on the other side. he scanned the compartments and pried open the locked drawers below the counter. After a solid minute of tugging on the handle, Dan heard the tell-tale splintering of plastic as the drawer broke free of its holdings.

Dan flew backwards to the ground, clutching his prize in his claws. Dusting himself off and praying that the noise didn’t attract anyone, Dan rummaged through the contents of the drawer. Aside from the alluring stacks of cash, Dan uncovered a small key, and a crumpled wad of receipts.

He eagerly stuffed the bills into his bag, roughly counting them as he packed them up. When all was said and done, Dan was quite pleased to discover that he was now two hundred Lues richer, well, technically, both he and Trace were now richer, but that was besides the point. He let himself smile as he then turned his attention to the key. He thanked whoever had been working here last, as they had taped a label onto key titled “Storage”.

He knew just where to go with this, he had seen enough robberies on television to know where the backroom in most convenience stores was. The back hallway had exactly three doors, one for storage, one to exit, and one Dan had no idea what it was. Fortunately, the lock was just in his reach and he didn’t have to jump for it unlike earlier. The key was a match as it went in smoothly and turned with a sharp click as the locking mechanism disengaged.

The dented metal door swung open and revealed a treasure trove of untouched boxes filled to the brim with surplus supplies to restock the store. Dan’s eyes widened in sudden, childlike glee. If the old saying proved true, then he was the epitome of a kid in a candy shop. He immediately shoved all thoughts of remaining silent aside as he sliced through the thick cardboard lids and packing tape of the boxes.

He let out a small squeal of joy as he pulled out a few completely unopened packages of hard candy, which he hugged to his chest for a moment before stuffing several inside the plastic bag. Rummaging through the rest of the boxes he could reach without risking snapping his neck on the high shelves, he found several more packs of beef jerky, a case of water bottles, much to his satisfaction -- more candy, and a few cans of assorted soups and vegetables. The poor plastic bag split open at the first can, leaving Dan scratching his head in how to transport all the loot back to the apartment building.

Not finding any object he could use in the storage room, Dan left and used the key to unlock the mysterious second of the three doors in the back hallway. He should have guessed that it would be the break room. Why he didn’t connect that, he didn’t know, but that was beside the point. If the storage room had been a treasure trove, then the break room looked like a blessing from Arceus Himself. The room may have been completely abandoned, but it seemed to have nearly everything he needed.

A dull, grey duffle bag with wheels was lodged in a corner. With further inspection, it had valuables such as a passport with a name and person he didn’t recognize, and the guy’s wallet, which Dan liberated of any physical cash, adding to his coffers about another hundred Lues.

He tucked the meager belongings into a small zipper pocket on the inside of the bag and threw out the few pairs of clothing onto the floor. He then continued his search of the room. Upon breaking open the cabinet, he was pleased to find a working utility flashlight and an extra battery. Not enough to replace the three needed for the light, but it was useful to have. The refrigerator held only spoiled food, save for a hard holiday cake made for the Kantoen New Year festivities.

Closing the powerless fridge to eliminate the smell, Dan pressed forward and looted the remainder of the unopened cabinets to no real gain. As he pulled the bag across the hallway back into the storage room, Dan heard his stomach growl like a feral monster. Seeing that this was probably the best time and place to safely eat, he slit open the plastic seal on a bag of jerky and shoved a clawful of the dried meat into his mouth.

He was completely uncouth, he knew he was, but it tasted too good for him to care. He happily munched on the snack for another minute while his thoughts wandered far beyond the shattered windows of the store.

Just who exactly was he? He was certain the Eevee was wondering the same thing. Dan was afraid to admit it, but he was seeing more and more that he was envious of Trace. The kid seemed to remember a heck of a lot more than he did, and seemed fairly secure in who he was as a human, though his claims to them being brothers were obviously crossing the line.
Wiping the crumbs from his mouth with his arm, Dan set to packing up the fairly large bag.

He wedged the case of twenty-four bottles at the very bottom, though it did take up a lot of space, it was enough for him to work with. He arranged the slim plastic pouches of the delicious dried meat around the water, filling every available inch with goods. He managed to squeeze the flashlight alongside his sweets --a treasure he couldn’t bear to leave behind. After packing in the wad of money at the deepest niche in the bag, Dan fiddled with the zipper for a moment before his claws got a proper grasp on it.

Once the bag was sealed, Dan lifted it to its wheels and began pulling it along behind him as he left the room. The front of the store was not most likely the safest place to exit with a valuable cargo of supplies, so the Charmeleon decided to press his luck and opened the back exit. He would soon be back at the camp and once they were both fed, Dan would try and get what answers he could out of Trace.

The Eevee was currently very scared. In the time after the Rattata’s squeal, the growls had been getting louder and closer, and he had heard scratches at the chair blocking the door - which had closed right after the scream.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at the front door. He was petrified in fear, though, not knowing who was at the door, until he heard what the guest said.
“Chariots. Trace, it’s me. Open the door. My hands are full,” the Charmeleon called from outside.

“Dan!” Trace opened the doors almost instantly, running behind Dan and cowering behind his leg. The growling continued. “There are scary things...” the Eevee whispered as he raised a trembling paw towards the flickering, blocked-off, stairwell. The Charmeleon immediately grunted as he hefted the loaded duffel bag inside the foyer and slammed the double doors shut.

“What kind of things, Trace? And where is that Rattata?” he inquired as he cautiously moved towards the eerily lit stairwell.

“H-he ran off... Th-there was growling and squeaking and a s-squelchy sound...” Trace tried hard to keep the terrified stutter in his voice down, but failed miserably. Dan paused, his tired breathing slowing to a near halt as he strained to focus on the minute sounds resonating from the floor above.

Well, he isn’t lying... Dan thought glumly as he heard an odd crunching sound -- almost like bone splintering and tearing flesh. Dan shuddered, he wasn’t sure where he got that vivid imagery, but he was dead certain that he didn’t want to find out what was the cause of the sickening noise.

“It doesn’t sound good, I can hear them too. Well, it looks like we got a decision to make, Trace. Do we investigate the murderous noises, or not? We need that Rattata’s help to find out what happened, but ...” Dan trailed off as he heard loud popping sound followed by a stomach churning squelching.

“No! No no no no no!” The Eevee was visibly shaking behind Dan. He saw Dan as his brother -- he just knew he was! -- whom had always been there to comfort him. The thought of going up against whatever monster was up there and potentially losing the one other person he still had, it was nearly too much for the small transformed Pokémon...

It was third grade. His brother had just found Trace lying on the ground, too injured to get up. He had tried to call for the teachers’ help, but it’s not like that did any good. They never did anything anyway. Nobody would want to see the “star students” in a bad light.

“Th-they took all my money again...” Trace sniveled. This had happened every day this past week.

“Who did it? Tell me right now. We’ll go find them. Come on. Let’s go,” the older boy said, patting the back of his sobbing brother as the two sat on the wooden picnic table on the far corner of the playground, away from the jeering cries of the children in the plastic and metal jungle.

“Vane did...” Trace replied, sucking in a loud sob as he pointed towards a fairly large boy standing in the middle of a group of his cohorts.

“Alright. Let’s go. We’ll go get your money back and make sure he won’t do this again,” the sixth grader replied reassuringly, despite being nearly thin as a rail himself and not nearly strong enough to take on the bullies’ leader.

“W-we will?” Trace asked between sobs.

The older boy nodded. “Of course we will. If the teachers won’t believe you, then we’ll take care of things ourselves,” he said as he coaxed Trace to his feet.

“W-what if you get hurt?...” the younger child whispered. The nearly-teenaged boy nodded as he began the trek across the playground and past the playing children, unaware of the bullying going on just five feet from their faces.

The leader in question was a heavyset boy in the sixth grade, a full year ahead of Trace’s brother. The older boy gulped, he didn’t know if he’d be able to take on the punk even if they had been in the same year. The bully was sitting among a crowd of other rough-looking boys on the very farthest edge of the playground --away from the teacher’s often blind eyes and most other sane children. Trace shivered as he clutched his brother’s back.

“Did you take my brother’s money?” his brother said, getting a quick burst of courage.

“Yeah. What of it?” the bully, which Trace identified as Vane, asked.

“We want it back. Right now,” the older boy demanded while Vane simply laughed in response, waving the crumpled bills of money in between his fat fingers. Trace’s brother narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. The older boy knew that this would almost be certain death, but he had heard Trace’s tearful recountings of the frequent bullyings enough times to know that the adults here were inapt to handle the situation.

It is with that thought that the older boy curled his right hand into a tight fist and swiftly smashed it into the left side of Vane’s face. The bully instantly recoiled, clutching his hands to his cheek as the entire group of chattering boys went completely silent with shock. Both intruding boys braced themselves as the sudden silence weighed down the air like a bag of stones.

“I can’t lose you... I can’t lose you...” Trace had found himself muttering this line over and over again, tuning out what was going on around him, just as had happened that fateful day...

Vane and the other boys had beaten his brother into the dirt. Trace was certain that they would have done it to him as well, but the bullies had scattered when Dan started coughing up blood after several hard punches to his ribs. Despite his own fear, Trace ran across the yard to one of the chattering adults and literally pulled the large woman off her spot on the bench and over to his groaning brother.

The situation exploded after that. Emergency personnel were called out for Dan, while police started an investigation into the incident. Their parents, as soon as they had been with both their boys, immediately sued the school. The case struck up huge community support, and a settlement was reached quickly. All teachers on point during the incident were fired, the bullies suspended, and their family cut a decent check to resolve the issue.

Regardless, the time his brother Dan spent unconscious during his stint in the emergency room was one of the most terrifying things Trace had gone through up until today. The Eevee could only watch from behind the Dan who had refused any possibility of being related as he tore down the barricade he had constructed not an hour ago.

Trace found the situation puzzling, to say the least. The Pokémon in front of him had originally possessed all of the qualities that had belonged to his older brother, even down to the same name and age. But, the more and more the Charmeleon denied it, the more Trace grew to doubt his initial belief.

Is this Dan my Dan? The thought hung over him as the reptilian tossed aside an ornate chair that held up the majority of the barrier to the upper floors. Without the protective wall, the stairway once again looked as if something horrifying would come bounding around the corner straight for them.

Trace gulped, pushing back the doubtful thoughts for the meantime. For now, finding the source of the growls was the main priority. Dan pressed a claw to his lips, signaling for them both to remain silent as they both began ascending the carpeted stairs upwards.

The Eevee’s nose wrinkled in disgust as the smell of fresh blood grew stronger in the air as they rounded the corner. The metal door ahead leading to the second floor was pushed slightly ajar. Dan took a deep breath as he forced the creaky door fully open. The smell of recent death hit them like a tidal wave. The entire room inside was bathed in darkness, the windows having been sealed up and the blinds closed.

The flickering light from the stairwell illuminated only a small circle of carpet beyond the door. Crimson stains dotted the floor, ground into the threads by what appeared to be several, heavy paws. Brandishing his flaming tail and cursing the fact that he had left the flashlight in his bag of loot in the lobby, Dan walked into the room.

“It’s dark... I don’t like the dark...” Trace whispered as he mimicked the Charmeleon’s cautious steps inside. They had no idea what to expect as they ventured into the unknown darkness. Dan held his free claw in what he thought was a ready position, he wasn’t sure what he would find, but he had to scope it out.

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. After not seeing anything remotely threatening in the shadows, he moved forward. No growls, no shuffling, no claws scraping across the floor. He did, however, find the source of the blood trails.

The Rattata, or at least what used to be the Rattata, was, to plainly put it, in pieces. Dan heard Trace gag at the sight, and he wasn’t too far off from doing something similar. It had several bites taken out of its small, purple body, and its apparently severed head was missing entirely.

“Come on. Leave it. We’ve still got another floor to check out.” Behind those confident words, Dan was trying his hardest not to panic. Both he and trace had heard the sounds of the brutal murder that was not even a few minutes old, yet the culprits were nowhere to be seen.

Despite his misgivings, they both slowly treaded up the final flight of stairs in the apartment building. One by one, they searched the apartments. They were virtually untouched. Aside from the smell of rotting food in the powerless refrigerators, there was nothing out of place in any of the rooms. Books still neatly lined their shelves, electronics were upright and intact, and save for a thin layer of dust on the furniture, it seemed to be a relatively normal apartment.

The same scenario repeated itself in all of the other rooms. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. No feral animals or Pokémon, no blood thirsty killers, no signs of struggle or an escape attempt. It was as if whatever had killed the Rattata had vanished.

Despite the massive disparity between the logic and reality of the situation, Trace seemed to have no trouble warming up to having the comforts of an actual bed once again as he flopped down on it and immediately began to snooze. Dan was about to tell him off and drag him out of the feather bed when the thought hit him.

He’s actually got a good idea. Staying up here for the time being. Dan would have to check out the entire complex again to make sure nothing was going to kill him and Trace in their sleep, but it was going to be worth it if they wanted to sleep somewhere other than a cold floor. Sighing to himself, he let the younger Pokémon sleep as he trudged back down the stairways to the lobby.

While he scanned the floors, he took stock of his current situation. He realized that he had taken his transformation with remarkable stride. He had only panicked for a few minutes before taking charge of their impromptu group. He had hardly given his lost humanity a second thought as he found the apartment, dealt with the Rattata, and snuck around for supplies.

Hell. Maybe I wasn’t too happy with my human life, or something? That could be it, he thought as he reached the lobby and began the arduous process of hauling up the bag of supplies he had salvaged. Heck. Maybe I wanted this to happen...

End Chapter Two

Authors’ Notes:
YuseiDarkUmbreon: Hi there! This was fun to write. I quite like it. My favorite part was the flashback to Trace’s third grade.

FalloftheKnights: This took a rather long time, didn’t it? Blame summer laziness. I was pleased with this chapter, though. I quite enjoyed developing Dan and Trace, and more importantly, the situation the two are stuck in. Thanks for reading. We both appreciate it.

Description
Unnamed Consequences
Chapter 2 - Terror and Salvage

A collaboration story between ~YuseiDarkUmbreon and myself. Any and all characters within this story are the property of said authors. Pokémon and the regions of Kanto, Sinnoh, Hoenn, and Johto all belong to their rightful owners in Nintendo.

Deserted. Abandoned. Hollow. Those feelings choked the air like the smog of a factory smokestack. It filtered through the blank windows of the townhouses and apartments that Dan passed along the similarly empty street. The sidewalks were completely pristine, it was as if no one had ever stepped foot on them. Cars littered the sides of the road every so often, their closed doors and orderly parking showing little signs of chaos.

Dan hardly dared to breathe as he snuck along the very sides of the road, lurking behind mailboxes and concrete pillars to avoid the sight of whoever was watching, if there was anyone left. So far, the entire world, save for Trace and that Rattata, was completely devoid of sentient life. Each breath he sucked into his mildly terrified lungs was rich with the smell of air, unspoiled by the lack of the usual afternoon rush hour through the town center.

Dan casually pondered why we was able to remember all these details about daily life, except key figures such as family, friends, and some lapses in memory. Walking along the empty road, Dan felt truly alone for the first time since waking up. Trace, despite the kid’s naivety and inane claims of being family, was good company, especially since he hadn’t seen another sentient organism, aside from the Rattata, ever since he came to under the tree.

It wasn’t long before he reached he reached his target: a small convenience store located on a corner of what might have normally been a fairly busy street. Unfortunately for him, it instantly disproved any thoughts of his that he and Trace might have been alone in the city. Large front windows were smashed open with a small convertible car that now laid dented and crumpled inside the store. His lightning blue eyes--a factor gifted by his new body--widened in disbelief as he got closer, now able to clearly see claw marks in the body of the vehicle and what appeared to be a stagnant puddle of blood pooling under the crushed driver’s side door.

Dan let out a fearful gulp as he slowly inched along the broken storefront. He was thankful for the new, thick scales on the bottom of his feet providing projection from the sea of broken glass that flooded the floor. The car was completely unrecognizable; every inch of the metal body was crumpled like tin foil and seemed to be squeezed into a rough, lethal ball. Dan felt a cold shiver shoot through him at the thought of what could have possibly possessed that much strength.

”Just, please --please don’t be inside. Please don’t be inside. Please don’t be inside,” his thoughts blindly pleaded as Dan slowly regained control of his legs. Glass crunched under his feet like snowflakes sent by Giratina. The Charmeleon inched his way through the ruined aisles nearest the wrecked car. He tried his best to ignore the strong fumes of decaying flesh and drying blood that emanated from the twisted ball of steel. Shaking his head, Dan concentrated on the shelves of the corner store.

Throughout the entire row, it seemed as if everything had been taken. The top shelves sported only remains of wrappers, boxes, and cans instead of the fully-stocked haven he was expecting. Dan crouched down, getting on eye level with the lower levels of the shelves. Again, the result was mostly the same, though, there was one exception. He reached back and pulled forward a small, miraculously untouched package of gum. The brand name was torn off, yet to Dan, it didn’t matter.

As Dan slowly inhaled the refreshing aroma of fresh mint, his mind flashed with sensations of chewing the gum during a insipidly dull class period, his human self simply waiting for the hands on the clock to move another minute forward. Just as the vision started, it ended, leaving the Charmeleon slightly dazed, yet coordinated enough to keep hold of the package. Dan found a crumpled, plastic, grocery bag almost directly beside the gum, which he stowed inside. Swinging the bag over his shoulder, Dan continued to loot whatever was left.

Unfortunately for the former human, there wasn’t much left in plain sight. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep under the tree since he had transformed, or how much time had passed since he was last human.

How long had it taken order to die? The police? The army? What had happened here? he wondered as he greedily swiped a slim package containing some sort of cheap-brand meat jerky. Dan wished so badly that he could just remember, but no matter how hard he thought, nothing at all came to him.

Seeing no other food or food-like objects in the store, Dan decided to examine the cashier’s counter. He dug his claws into the hardened plastic surface as he clumsily vaulted over the desk. Once he landed on the other side. he scanned the compartments and pried open the locked drawers below the counter. After a solid minute of tugging on the handle, Dan heard the tell-tale splintering of plastic as the drawer broke free of its holdings.

Dan flew backwards to the ground, clutching his prize in his claws. Dusting himself off and praying that the noise didn’t attract anyone, Dan rummaged through the contents of the drawer. Aside from the alluring stacks of cash, Dan uncovered a small key, and a crumpled wad of receipts.

He eagerly stuffed the bills into his bag, roughly counting them as he packed them up. When all was said and done, Dan was quite pleased to discover that he was now two hundred Lues richer, well, technically, both he and Trace were now richer, but that was besides the point. He let himself smile as he then turned his attention to the key. He thanked whoever had been working here last, as they had taped a label onto key titled “Storage”.

He knew just where to go with this, he had seen enough robberies on television to know where the backroom in most convenience stores was. The back hallway had exactly three doors, one for storage, one to exit, and one Dan had no idea what it was. Fortunately, the lock was just in his reach and he didn’t have to jump for it unlike earlier. The key was a match as it went in smoothly and turned with a sharp click as the locking mechanism disengaged.

The dented metal door swung open and revealed a treasure trove of untouched boxes filled to the brim with surplus supplies to restock the store. Dan’s eyes widened in sudden, childlike glee. If the old saying proved true, then he was the epitome of a kid in a candy shop. He immediately shoved all thoughts of remaining silent aside as he sliced through the thick cardboard lids and packing tape of the boxes.

He let out a small squeal of joy as he pulled out a few completely unopened packages of hard candy, which he hugged to his chest for a moment before stuffing several inside the plastic bag. Rummaging through the rest of the boxes he could reach without risking snapping his neck on the high shelves, he found several more packs of beef jerky, a case of water bottles, much to his satisfaction -- more candy, and a few cans of assorted soups and vegetables. The poor plastic bag split open at the first can, leaving Dan scratching his head in how to transport all the loot back to the apartment building.

Not finding any object he could use in the storage room, Dan left and used the key to unlock the mysterious second of the three doors in the back hallway. He should have guessed that it would be the break room. Why he didn’t connect that, he didn’t know, but that was beside the point. If the storage room had been a treasure trove, then the break room looked like a blessing from Arceus Himself. The room may have been completely abandoned, but it seemed to have nearly everything he needed.

A dull, grey duffle bag with wheels was lodged in a corner. With further inspection, it had valuables such as a passport with a name and person he didn’t recognize, and the guy’s wallet, which Dan liberated of any physical cash, adding to his coffers about another hundred Lues.

He tucked the meager belongings into a small zipper pocket on the inside of the bag and threw out the few pairs of clothing onto the floor. He then continued his search of the room. Upon breaking open the cabinet, he was pleased to find a working utility flashlight and an extra battery. Not enough to replace the three needed for the light, but it was useful to have. The refrigerator held only spoiled food, save for a hard holiday cake made for the Kantoen New Year festivities.

Closing the powerless fridge to eliminate the smell, Dan pressed forward and looted the remainder of the unopened cabinets to no real gain. As he pulled the bag across the hallway back into the storage room, Dan heard his stomach growl like a feral monster. Seeing that this was probably the best time and place to safely eat, he slit open the plastic seal on a bag of jerky and shoved a clawful of the dried meat into his mouth.

He was completely uncouth, he knew he was, but it tasted too good for him to care. He happily munched on the snack for another minute while his thoughts wandered far beyond the shattered windows of the store.

Just who exactly was he? He was certain the Eevee was wondering the same thing. Dan was afraid to admit it, but he was seeing more and more that he was envious of Trace. The kid seemed to remember a heck of a lot more than he did, and seemed fairly secure in who he was as a human, though his claims to them being brothers were obviously crossing the line.
Wiping the crumbs from his mouth with his arm, Dan set to packing up the fairly large bag.

He wedged the case of twenty-four bottles at the very bottom, though it did take up a lot of space, it was enough for him to work with. He arranged the slim plastic pouches of the delicious dried meat around the water, filling every available inch with goods. He managed to squeeze the flashlight alongside his sweets --a treasure he couldn’t bear to leave behind. After packing in the wad of money at the deepest niche in the bag, Dan fiddled with the zipper for a moment before his claws got a proper grasp on it.

Once the bag was sealed, Dan lifted it to its wheels and began pulling it along behind him as he left the room. The front of the store was not most likely the safest place to exit with a valuable cargo of supplies, so the Charmeleon decided to press his luck and opened the back exit. He would soon be back at the camp and once they were both fed, Dan would try and get what answers he could out of Trace.

The Eevee was currently very scared. In the time after the Rattata’s squeal, the growls had been getting louder and closer, and he had heard scratches at the chair blocking the door - which had closed right after the scream.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at the front door. He was petrified in fear, though, not knowing who was at the door, until he heard what the guest said.
“Chariots. Trace, it’s me. Open the door. My hands are full,” the Charmeleon called from outside.

“Dan!” Trace opened the doors almost instantly, running behind Dan and cowering behind his leg. The growling continued. “There are scary things...” the Eevee whispered as he raised a trembling paw towards the flickering, blocked-off, stairwell. The Charmeleon immediately grunted as he hefted the loaded duffel bag inside the foyer and slammed the double doors shut.

“What kind of things, Trace? And where is that Rattata?” he inquired as he cautiously moved towards the eerily lit stairwell.

“H-he ran off... Th-there was growling and squeaking and a s-squelchy sound...” Trace tried hard to keep the terrified stutter in his voice down, but failed miserably. Dan paused, his tired breathing slowing to a near halt as he strained to focus on the minute sounds resonating from the floor above.

Well, he isn’t lying... Dan thought glumly as he heard an odd crunching sound -- almost like bone splintering and tearing flesh. Dan shuddered, he wasn’t sure where he got that vivid imagery, but he was dead certain that he didn’t want to find out what was the cause of the sickening noise.

“It doesn’t sound good, I can hear them too. Well, it looks like we got a decision to make, Trace. Do we investigate the murderous noises, or not? We need that Rattata’s help to find out what happened, but ...” Dan trailed off as he heard loud popping sound followed by a stomach churning squelching.

“No! No no no no no!” The Eevee was visibly shaking behind Dan. He saw Dan as his brother -- he just knew he was! -- whom had always been there to comfort him. The thought of going up against whatever monster was up there and potentially losing the one other person he still had, it was nearly too much for the small transformed Pokémon...

It was third grade. His brother had just found Trace lying on the ground, too injured to get up. He had tried to call for the teachers’ help, but it’s not like that did any good. They never did anything anyway. Nobody would want to see the “star students” in a bad light.

“Th-they took all my money again...” Trace sniveled. This had happened every day this past week.

“Who did it? Tell me right now. We’ll go find them. Come on. Let’s go,” the older boy said, patting the back of his sobbing brother as the two sat on the wooden picnic table on the far corner of the playground, away from the jeering cries of the children in the plastic and metal jungle.

“Vane did...” Trace replied, sucking in a loud sob as he pointed towards a fairly large boy standing in the middle of a group of his cohorts.

“Alright. Let’s go. We’ll go get your money back and make sure he won’t do this again,” the sixth grader replied reassuringly, despite being nearly thin as a rail himself and not nearly strong enough to take on the bullies’ leader.

“W-we will?” Trace asked between sobs.

The older boy nodded. “Of course we will. If the teachers won’t believe you, then we’ll take care of things ourselves,” he said as he coaxed Trace to his feet.

“W-what if you get hurt?...” the younger child whispered. The nearly-teenaged boy nodded as he began the trek across the playground and past the playing children, unaware of the bullying going on just five feet from their faces.

The leader in question was a heavyset boy in the sixth grade, a full year ahead of Trace’s brother. The older boy gulped, he didn’t know if he’d be able to take on the punk even if they had been in the same year. The bully was sitting among a crowd of other rough-looking boys on the very farthest edge of the playground --away from the teacher’s often blind eyes and most other sane children. Trace shivered as he clutched his brother’s back.

“Did you take my brother’s money?” his brother said, getting a quick burst of courage.

“Yeah. What of it?” the bully, which Trace identified as Vane, asked.

“We want it back. Right now,” the older boy demanded while Vane simply laughed in response, waving the crumpled bills of money in between his fat fingers. Trace’s brother narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. The older boy knew that this would almost be certain death, but he had heard Trace’s tearful recountings of the frequent bullyings enough times to know that the adults here were inapt to handle the situation.

It is with that thought that the older boy curled his right hand into a tight fist and swiftly smashed it into the left side of Vane’s face. The bully instantly recoiled, clutching his hands to his cheek as the entire group of chattering boys went completely silent with shock. Both intruding boys braced themselves as the sudden silence weighed down the air like a bag of stones.

“I can’t lose you... I can’t lose you...” Trace had found himself muttering this line over and over again, tuning out what was going on around him, just as had happened that fateful day...

Vane and the other boys had beaten his brother into the dirt. Trace was certain that they would have done it to him as well, but the bullies had scattered when Dan started coughing up blood after several hard punches to his ribs. Despite his own fear, Trace ran across the yard to one of the chattering adults and literally pulled the large woman off her spot on the bench and over to his groaning brother.

The situation exploded after that. Emergency personnel were called out for Dan, while police started an investigation into the incident. Their parents, as soon as they had been with both their boys, immediately sued the school. The case struck up huge community support, and a settlement was reached quickly. All teachers on point during the incident were fired, the bullies suspended, and their family cut a decent check to resolve the issue.

Regardless, the time his brother Dan spent unconscious during his stint in the emergency room was one of the most terrifying things Trace had gone through up until today. The Eevee could only watch from behind the Dan who had refused any possibility of being related as he tore down the barricade he had constructed not an hour ago.

Trace found the situation puzzling, to say the least. The Pokémon in front of him had originally possessed all of the qualities that had belonged to his older brother, even down to the same name and age. But, the more and more the Charmeleon denied it, the more Trace grew to doubt his initial belief.

Is this Dan my Dan? The thought hung over him as the reptilian tossed aside an ornate chair that held up the majority of the barrier to the upper floors. Without the protective wall, the stairway once again looked as if something horrifying would come bounding around the corner straight for them.

Trace gulped, pushing back the doubtful thoughts for the meantime. For now, finding the source of the growls was the main priority. Dan pressed a claw to his lips, signaling for them both to remain silent as they both began ascending the carpeted stairs upwards.

The Eevee’s nose wrinkled in disgust as the smell of fresh blood grew stronger in the air as they rounded the corner. The metal door ahead leading to the second floor was pushed slightly ajar. Dan took a deep breath as he forced the creaky door fully open. The smell of recent death hit them like a tidal wave. The entire room inside was bathed in darkness, the windows having been sealed up and the blinds closed.

The flickering light from the stairwell illuminated only a small circle of carpet beyond the door. Crimson stains dotted the floor, ground into the threads by what appeared to be several, heavy paws. Brandishing his flaming tail and cursing the fact that he had left the flashlight in his bag of loot in the lobby, Dan walked into the room.

“It’s dark... I don’t like the dark...” Trace whispered as he mimicked the Charmeleon’s cautious steps inside. They had no idea what to expect as they ventured into the unknown darkness. Dan held his free claw in what he thought was a ready position, he wasn’t sure what he would find, but he had to scope it out.

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. After not seeing anything remotely threatening in the shadows, he moved forward. No growls, no shuffling, no claws scraping across the floor. He did, however, find the source of the blood trails.

The Rattata, or at least what used to be the Rattata, was, to plainly put it, in pieces. Dan heard Trace gag at the sight, and he wasn’t too far off from doing something similar. It had several bites taken out of its small, purple body, and its apparently severed head was missing entirely.

“Come on. Leave it. We’ve still got another floor to check out.” Behind those confident words, Dan was trying his hardest not to panic. Both he and trace had heard the sounds of the brutal murder that was not even a few minutes old, yet the culprits were nowhere to be seen.

Despite his misgivings, they both slowly treaded up the final flight of stairs in the apartment building. One by one, they searched the apartments. They were virtually untouched. Aside from the smell of rotting food in the powerless refrigerators, there was nothing out of place in any of the rooms. Books still neatly lined their shelves, electronics were upright and intact, and save for a thin layer of dust on the furniture, it seemed to be a relatively normal apartment.

The same scenario repeated itself in all of the other rooms. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. No feral animals or Pokémon, no blood thirsty killers, no signs of struggle or an escape attempt. It was as if whatever had killed the Rattata had vanished.

Despite the massive disparity between the logic and reality of the situation, Trace seemed to have no trouble warming up to having the comforts of an actual bed once again as he flopped down on it and immediately began to snooze. Dan was about to tell him off and drag him out of the feather bed when the thought hit him.

He’s actually got a good idea. Staying up here for the time being. Dan would have to check out the entire complex again to make sure nothing was going to kill him and Trace in their sleep, but it was going to be worth it if they wanted to sleep somewhere other than a cold floor. Sighing to himself, he let the younger Pokémon sleep as he trudged back down the stairways to the lobby.

While he scanned the floors, he took stock of his current situation. He realized that he had taken his transformation with remarkable stride. He had only panicked for a few minutes before taking charge of their impromptu group. He had hardly given his lost humanity a second thought as he found the apartment, dealt with the Rattata, and snuck around for supplies.

Hell. Maybe I wasn’t too happy with my human life, or something? That could be it, he thought as he reached the lobby and began the arduous process of hauling up the bag of supplies he had salvaged. Heck. Maybe I wanted this to happen...

End Chapter Two

Authors’ Notes:
YuseiDarkUmbreon: Hi there! This was fun to write. I quite like it. My favorite part was the flashback to Trace’s third grade.

FalloftheKnights: This took a rather long time, didn’t it? Blame summer laziness. I was pleased with this chapter, though. I quite enjoyed developing Dan and Trace, and more importantly, the situation the two are stuck in. Thanks for reading. We both appreciate it.