Story Notes:
A simple one-shot that I made randomly. My first ever story here! |D
A Lesson Repeated
"So, what did you think?," asked a high, scratchy voice. They were in an alleyway, hidden from the rest of the world... somewhat. The first Pokemon, the one who had spoken, was in plain sight. It was a Meowth, and a ignorant one at that. This one's name was Charles, as he had previously been Trained. However, after being forcefully taken by the Johto government, he was released into the wild where they'd hoped he would survive. He hadn't been keeping well. At this particular time, his kleptomania had gotten the best of him, and he ended up stealing from the kingpin of the Berry Trade industry. The illegal one, mind you. The alleyway was dark and eerie, a blizzard of grays and blacks and slates, with two large apartment buildings surrounding both sides of it. The only way to escape a possible attack would be to head back, but two Voltorb blocked the exit, Explosions at the ready. Charles could swear he saw some kind of psychopathic aura flowing off of both of their chiseled faces.
"What did I think of what?," asked the six-foot-seven Pokemon shrouded by the ever dark shadows of the large apartment behind him. Only a few distinct features could be made out on him; he was sitting in a giant makeshift throne. On his green left paw was an onyx ring fastened into the shape of a Geodude. On his right paw was an engraved ring, with six letters written in gold: "Tyrant".
"T-the berry, of course," Charles replied as slowly as he could as if to contradict his rapidly beating heart. His large, oblong feline eyes must have been bulging or something, because the large figure began to chuckle. The Meowth knew he was in something awful now, because after stealing from the kingpin, he attempted to compensate with a nearly dead Oran berry. Using his "wit", Charles then told him it was his 'merchandise' to elude being killed for theft. You know, pretending to be something he was not. A berry dealer.
"I didn't eat no berry," the figure spoke again, still laughing. The two Voltorb moved a bit closer to Charles, making him audibly gulp. The nighttime sky helped to organize the meeting in the broken down alley, as no humans really ever came out during the night. No Pokemon was dumb enough to interfere with the kingpin's meetings, and anything else, he could probably scare away. "I ate some dead, dry, piece of shi-- erm, garbage." During 'piece of'', the kingpin's voice began rising in fury, making Charles shrink back and whimper.
"Well, if you'd like... m-m-more of m-my... my... my...," it took both of Charles' stones to say the last word, "merchandise... then..." The feline took out a fine looking Sitrus berry, one that he took from a Berry plant yesterday, and placed it in front of the kingpin, at the figure's bipedal paws. Oh, Arceus, let this work, he thought to himself, Don't let him kill me, and I promise to help myself with my kleptomania...
The kingpin raised his footpaw, and brought it down on the ripe berry, spraying the Meowth with a shower of orange juice, stinging his eyes. As Charles began crying out in morbid pain, a Tyranitar materialized from the shadows where the kingpin had once been sitting, knocking over his throne of boxes with his tree trunk-like tail. His all too big biceps began flexing as he picked the cat up by his scruff, preparing a Crunch attack.
"You think you can come in here, and just, what, give me a berry? This is illegal stuff, kid, not some Sitrus crap. We get only the best, Leche and Hondew berries, cloned and grown and sold in mass!" Then, he began laughing in a hysterical fit, his amber eyes looking into Charles' very soul, a bone chilling stare that lasted for at least two minutes. "I should have killed you when you stole from me."
Killed?! "No! N-no I have a condition and I can't help myself it's called kleptomania and I see something shiny and I take don't kill me!," Charles screeched in one breath, closing his eyes and flailing helplessly in the air like a child.
"Kleptomania? You took my necklace. And you still haven't returned it to me," the Tyranitar objected, canceling his attack and placing one fist on his large hip.
"I... I had to eat, and... and I gave it to some Cubone. They... they took it, and... and I had to stay somewhere, so I bought a place to sleep...," Charles admitted, looking down with orange-painted eyes.
"You sold it, huh?" The kingpin chuckled and looked over to his Voltorb body guards, and they chimed in with nervous laughter, not sure of what he wanted to do. "Sold it...," he repeated, looking off into nowhere for a while.
"Yup! I sold it," Charles replied, chuckling, though the tightest knot of dread had built up in his dirty and now empty stomach, almost as if he could vomit his entire digestive system. "Can I go?"
Still not acknowledging the existence of the Meowth, the kingpin held Charles in the air, bending over to retrieve something. Dropping to a lower altitude in the air, Charles grabbed a closer look at the cemented floor of the alley. It was lined with human garbage and dead Rattata, but something else made his heart freeze over. A lead pipe. Don't... don't grab that. As if ignoring his thought, the Tyranitar placed a meaty paw on the crowbar, and raised it in the air.
"This is Shelly," he began, looking the steel pipe that was full of dents over with mock passion, his hardy gaze locked on it. In the next second, said eyes flashed to Charles' face, an invigorating hatred soon washing over the green monster's features. "I use her... when someone does something to tick me off. My first victim," he mused, pointing to the weapon with a flash of his amber eyes, "didn't live. My second victim, did not live. You... will not live!" After his short speech, he began breaking into a hysteric laughter once more, his gaze never escaping the Meowth.
"No-" Whack! Once, in the bipedal feline's ribs, sending him flying out of the green rock-dino's paws. With a great stomp, he made his way closer to Charles, a sadistic grin wedged on his lips. Charles attempted escape, in fact, the Voltorb duo even moved aside. However, seeing as he was limping badly, he couldn't go very far before he was nabbed by the footpaw and held in the air like a pin�ta. "Time to die!" was written all over the kingpin's face as he slammed the seemingly unbreakable bar into various places of the theft's body.
"Please! Pleeease!," was all Charles could sputter out in a horrible throaty, gutsy wail of agony and traumatic terror. With these two words, the kingpin grinned toothily, and threw the small cat onto the cement, fracturing Charles' jaw, and knocking out a molar tooth. Getting to his feet with three broken ribs, a sprained hip, and a shattered jaw, Charles made his way to the exit. This time, the kingpin didn't flip out and try to hurt him again. Why, though?
"You're pathetic," said he, dropping the crowbar at his side, leaving it to hit the ground with a heavy clank and then sit still. "You can't get berries, you can barely even live properly. I'd do you a favor and put you out of your misery, but a dead Meowth might raise eyebrows, with all the Rescue Teams running around. The forensics units are powerful, they'd catch me before I could even get out of this Region." With that, he briskly walked ahead of the two Electric types, and backhanded Charles on the way. But... he wasn't done there. He put a black-padded paw to Charles' mouth as he lay bleeding on the apartment wall, grinning happily. "Lick it," he commanded.
"Please..." The plea was met with another backhand to the face.
"I said lick it," the kingpin commanded once more, his voice now firm and authoritative opposed to his prior sadistic and tyrannical.
"Patrick, isn't this a bit much?," asked the first Voltorb with a sympathetic glance at Charles, who lay with both eyes wide in fear, staring at Patrick the Tyranitar's giant footpaw. He was silenced with a harsh glare.
"I'll unleash an Earthquake that will tear this whole city down! I know how humans think. Especially the Pokemon Ethical Treatment Association. 'Oh, it's just a wild Pokemon! It can't control what it does, don't hurt it!'," he mused, making a mocking voice at the PETA members who opposed owning Pokemon. The Voltorb rolled ahead without a word, it's companion following it.
"Now, lick it," he snarled once more, looking directly at Charles. The Meowth gingerly stuck a tongue out, tapping the footpaw, and quickly drawing it back in. This action was met with a punch to the jaw, much to the agony of Charles. "Do you not understand what 'licking' is? Just for that, I want you to bathe my foot. With all the energy you have left, or Shelly and I will kill you."
"Okay," was Charles' hoarse reply, as he stared at the footpaw in his face. Sighing, he got a toe and began suckling on it. This was met with a slap and a rant about licking once more. Afterward, he unfurled his cat tongue and began 'licking' the entire footpaw, getting between the crevices of the toes and even showering the heel with slobbery 'affection'. This was met with the giggling, moaning and sadistic grunting of Patrick, who enjoyed the whole of it. If it meant he could live, Charles took the entire paw in both of his, gently stroking the soft flesh and then speeding up.
"Enough," Patrick finally decided, chuckling darkly. With a pat to Charles' head, he slowly strolled off, whistling casually.
Charles did not know what city he was in, he'd lost track by now. He did know that he was in Johto, and that meant more Trainers than Kanto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh. This also meant a few Pokemon Rangers, and if he was lucky, a Rescue Team investigating human behavior. The Meowth, with some complications, managed to rise to both of his brown paws, staggering weakly out from the confined shadows of the alleyway. His vision blurring, he remembered that it was Spring, when all the berries were in bloom. He still had one more Oran berry remaining. He wanted to do something for someone, to make sure they didn't have to do what he did. Of course, no one else had kleptomania and would steal from a kingpin and get beaten down, but it seemed like a cute idea at the moment. A final mission before his imminent death.
Through the quiet asphalt streets of the well-kept city, Charles the Meowth staggered along the buildings, clutching his broken ribs, trying his best not to close his jaw. After the licking, it had begun to horribly throb; if he didn't leave it open and tried to close it, he'd feel a sharp stinging and would immediately slack it. His ribs were okay, he just couldn't breathe too much or move them around. His hip was actually the best thing of his wounds, as he could move it around without a problem. Occasionally, it would begin a horrible throbbing sensation, but he figured he'd try his best to ignore it.
At the outskirts of the city was a giant field, a moor that had the city's population of berries and flowers growing in two enclosed spaces. Wild Pokemon were welcome to come and feast on the growing berries, because the city was supposed to have a surplus of seeds. As Charles approached said place, his eyes had begun to water from a sudden shock. There was nothing. The grass looked plastic, and everything else was dead. As he stepped from the rough asphalt onto the spongy grass, smudges of green appeared on his paws. It was some kind of paint designed to stick to the grass. Apparently it wanted to stick to his paw pads instead.
I just... I just want... to help a fellow Pokemon. He approached a ditch in the ground where a crater of fresh soil sat alone, neglected. With a hopeful sigh, Charles held his breath and quickly tossed the Oran into the ditch, so as not to inflict more pain upon himself. Gingerly, he got to his knees, and gathered the soil in a nice mound around the berry. I can't deal with this..., his mind told him, so I think I'll sleep. Sleep until I just... die. But... but at least I'll have made some difference. Who knows? Perhaps the townsfolk would even bring back their real grass and take care of their berry and flower patch.
Charles soon drifted, off into a deep sleep. He felt his eyelids plummeting towards each other on both eyes, slowly rendering him toward his death. And no, it wasn't true how when you die, time slows down. You just die. And Charles did just that, sprawled out in some garden some place in Johto.
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A gasp could be heard from Charles as he awoke, his eyes opening to the cruel world once more. The sky was now clear and blue; it was daytime. Noticing his wounds were bandaged and the blood wiped away, he rose up, hoping to be in someone's house with a beautiful Persian making tea for him who would soon admit that she had been attending to his wounds and he had been out cold for a week somehow. But... no. He wasn't in the garden, he was in tall grass, reminders of his first release into the wild by the government. When he was told to just... go. No food, no water, no shelter, no life, just go. But... if he was alone... who attended to his wounds and brought him out here?
"Ah-!!," came another gasp from him as he crouched downward and checked around him for the kingpin or anyone who wanted to inflict harm upon him.... but, no, again... he was alone. Thick, mustard colored grass surrounding him, the sun blazing overhead, and silence. That's what he had to work with. He pressed on, pushing anything in his way aside, hoping to find some help. There was none.
As he exited the tall weed-field, he heard something that made no sense to him whatsoever, spoken by humans: "Happy Arbor Day!" A small humanlet ran up to him, giggling as he appeared from the grassy mess. She pointed to him and said, "Mommy! It's a Pokemon!" How Patrick understood all of this, he didn't know, because he was clueless. He just understood 'Pokemon' and that was all. Though, by her energy, he could tell she didn't mean any harm. A bigger she-human jogged over to her daughter with a mug of alcoholic substance, probably cider, and knelt down to greet Charles.
"Hi," he said awkwardly, blushing and shrinking. She shrugged and asked him something in her language. Then, she got out a small notepad and drew a sketch; it was him, planting a berry tree, with the humans! Ever since that garden, he felt he wanted to do something to help Pokemon receive nutrition and food, Pokemon like himself. All the human Trainers just came by and plucked the berries and left. There were some that re-planted them, but they were rare. And yes, 'ever since' because he didn't know how long he'd been out for. He nodded vigorously, stepping out of the grass thickets and grabbing as many Oran, Pinap, and Bluk berries as he could and planting them underneath a great oak tree, in ditches of soil already dug out. Observing his surroundings, he noted he was in a giant field, all colored a sickly mustard.
"Thanks!," commented a human... whatever that meant. It must have meant something good, because all of the rest of the humans that were sitting around a cedar picnic table chimed in with praise. Charles just nodded, glad to help be part of the solution, not the problem. His navy eyes scanned each of the humans as the praise died down and the rest of them stopped sipping their cider, returning to work. One human's back pocket made him cringe, though. Hanging out, was a monster of a wallet. It was made of gold, encrusted with rubies, amethysts, obsidians and sapphires, and was fat with money.
Charles' head twitched. Then his body was overwhelmed with a series of violent shudders. Now it was him and the wallet. I have to take it. It's so... shiny... I... I love it. His kleptomania was hoarding his brain all to itself, making his body move slowly toward the disorder's ultimate goal. Charles' eyes went from bright and helpful to dark and scheming. His lips twitched twice, and snaked into a giant grin, exposing all of his teeth, including the one he'd lost in the back. His fists clenched, and his tail curled over, as he reached for the shiny object in desperation. I must have it...Chapter End Notes:E/N: Did you like? :3 Mmmyes, I hope so. You've already read it, so why not review? I'll be doing something in the meantime. *sips tea and crosses leg
"What did I think of what?," asked the six-foot-seven Pokemon shrouded by the ever dark shadows of the large apartment behind him. Only a few distinct features could be made out on him; he was sitting in a giant makeshift throne. On his green left paw was an onyx ring fastened into the shape of a Geodude. On his right paw was an engraved ring, with six letters written in gold: "Tyrant".
"T-the berry, of course," Charles replied as slowly as he could as if to contradict his rapidly beating heart. His large, oblong feline eyes must have been bulging or something, because the large figure began to chuckle. The Meowth knew he was in something awful now, because after stealing from the kingpin, he attempted to compensate with a nearly dead Oran berry. Using his "wit", Charles then told him it was his 'merchandise' to elude being killed for theft. You know, pretending to be something he was not. A berry dealer.
"I didn't eat no berry," the figure spoke again, still laughing. The two Voltorb moved a bit closer to Charles, making him audibly gulp. The nighttime sky helped to organize the meeting in the broken down alley, as no humans really ever came out during the night. No Pokemon was dumb enough to interfere with the kingpin's meetings, and anything else, he could probably scare away. "I ate some dead, dry, piece of shi-- erm, garbage." During 'piece of'', the kingpin's voice began rising in fury, making Charles shrink back and whimper.
"Well, if you'd like... m-m-more of m-my... my... my...," it took both of Charles' stones to say the last word, "merchandise... then..." The feline took out a fine looking Sitrus berry, one that he took from a Berry plant yesterday, and placed it in front of the kingpin, at the figure's bipedal paws. Oh, Arceus, let this work, he thought to himself, Don't let him kill me, and I promise to help myself with my kleptomania...
The kingpin raised his footpaw, and brought it down on the ripe berry, spraying the Meowth with a shower of orange juice, stinging his eyes. As Charles began crying out in morbid pain, a Tyranitar materialized from the shadows where the kingpin had once been sitting, knocking over his throne of boxes with his tree trunk-like tail. His all too big biceps began flexing as he picked the cat up by his scruff, preparing a Crunch attack.
"You think you can come in here, and just, what, give me a berry? This is illegal stuff, kid, not some Sitrus crap. We get only the best, Leche and Hondew berries, cloned and grown and sold in mass!" Then, he began laughing in a hysterical fit, his amber eyes looking into Charles' very soul, a bone chilling stare that lasted for at least two minutes. "I should have killed you when you stole from me."
Killed?! "No! N-no I have a condition and I can't help myself it's called kleptomania and I see something shiny and I take don't kill me!," Charles screeched in one breath, closing his eyes and flailing helplessly in the air like a child.
"Kleptomania? You took my necklace. And you still haven't returned it to me," the Tyranitar objected, canceling his attack and placing one fist on his large hip.
"I... I had to eat, and... and I gave it to some Cubone. They... they took it, and... and I had to stay somewhere, so I bought a place to sleep...," Charles admitted, looking down with orange-painted eyes.
"You sold it, huh?" The kingpin chuckled and looked over to his Voltorb body guards, and they chimed in with nervous laughter, not sure of what he wanted to do. "Sold it...," he repeated, looking off into nowhere for a while.
"Yup! I sold it," Charles replied, chuckling, though the tightest knot of dread had built up in his dirty and now empty stomach, almost as if he could vomit his entire digestive system. "Can I go?"
Still not acknowledging the existence of the Meowth, the kingpin held Charles in the air, bending over to retrieve something. Dropping to a lower altitude in the air, Charles grabbed a closer look at the cemented floor of the alley. It was lined with human garbage and dead Rattata, but something else made his heart freeze over. A lead pipe. Don't... don't grab that. As if ignoring his thought, the Tyranitar placed a meaty paw on the crowbar, and raised it in the air.
"This is Shelly," he began, looking the steel pipe that was full of dents over with mock passion, his hardy gaze locked on it. In the next second, said eyes flashed to Charles' face, an invigorating hatred soon washing over the green monster's features. "I use her... when someone does something to tick me off. My first victim," he mused, pointing to the weapon with a flash of his amber eyes, "didn't live. My second victim, did not live. You... will not live!" After his short speech, he began breaking into a hysteric laughter once more, his gaze never escaping the Meowth.
"No-" Whack! Once, in the bipedal feline's ribs, sending him flying out of the green rock-dino's paws. With a great stomp, he made his way closer to Charles, a sadistic grin wedged on his lips. Charles attempted escape, in fact, the Voltorb duo even moved aside. However, seeing as he was limping badly, he couldn't go very far before he was nabbed by the footpaw and held in the air like a pin�ta. "Time to die!" was written all over the kingpin's face as he slammed the seemingly unbreakable bar into various places of the theft's body.
"Please! Pleeease!," was all Charles could sputter out in a horrible throaty, gutsy wail of agony and traumatic terror. With these two words, the kingpin grinned toothily, and threw the small cat onto the cement, fracturing Charles' jaw, and knocking out a molar tooth. Getting to his feet with three broken ribs, a sprained hip, and a shattered jaw, Charles made his way to the exit. This time, the kingpin didn't flip out and try to hurt him again. Why, though?
"You're pathetic," said he, dropping the crowbar at his side, leaving it to hit the ground with a heavy clank and then sit still. "You can't get berries, you can barely even live properly. I'd do you a favor and put you out of your misery, but a dead Meowth might raise eyebrows, with all the Rescue Teams running around. The forensics units are powerful, they'd catch me before I could even get out of this Region." With that, he briskly walked ahead of the two Electric types, and backhanded Charles on the way. But... he wasn't done there. He put a black-padded paw to Charles' mouth as he lay bleeding on the apartment wall, grinning happily. "Lick it," he commanded.
"Please..." The plea was met with another backhand to the face.
"I said lick it," the kingpin commanded once more, his voice now firm and authoritative opposed to his prior sadistic and tyrannical.
"Patrick, isn't this a bit much?," asked the first Voltorb with a sympathetic glance at Charles, who lay with both eyes wide in fear, staring at Patrick the Tyranitar's giant footpaw. He was silenced with a harsh glare.
"I'll unleash an Earthquake that will tear this whole city down! I know how humans think. Especially the Pokemon Ethical Treatment Association. 'Oh, it's just a wild Pokemon! It can't control what it does, don't hurt it!'," he mused, making a mocking voice at the PETA members who opposed owning Pokemon. The Voltorb rolled ahead without a word, it's companion following it.
"Now, lick it," he snarled once more, looking directly at Charles. The Meowth gingerly stuck a tongue out, tapping the footpaw, and quickly drawing it back in. This action was met with a punch to the jaw, much to the agony of Charles. "Do you not understand what 'licking' is? Just for that, I want you to bathe my foot. With all the energy you have left, or Shelly and I will kill you."
"Okay," was Charles' hoarse reply, as he stared at the footpaw in his face. Sighing, he got a toe and began suckling on it. This was met with a slap and a rant about licking once more. Afterward, he unfurled his cat tongue and began 'licking' the entire footpaw, getting between the crevices of the toes and even showering the heel with slobbery 'affection'. This was met with the giggling, moaning and sadistic grunting of Patrick, who enjoyed the whole of it. If it meant he could live, Charles took the entire paw in both of his, gently stroking the soft flesh and then speeding up.
"Enough," Patrick finally decided, chuckling darkly. With a pat to Charles' head, he slowly strolled off, whistling casually.
Charles did not know what city he was in, he'd lost track by now. He did know that he was in Johto, and that meant more Trainers than Kanto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh. This also meant a few Pokemon Rangers, and if he was lucky, a Rescue Team investigating human behavior. The Meowth, with some complications, managed to rise to both of his brown paws, staggering weakly out from the confined shadows of the alleyway. His vision blurring, he remembered that it was Spring, when all the berries were in bloom. He still had one more Oran berry remaining. He wanted to do something for someone, to make sure they didn't have to do what he did. Of course, no one else had kleptomania and would steal from a kingpin and get beaten down, but it seemed like a cute idea at the moment. A final mission before his imminent death.
Through the quiet asphalt streets of the well-kept city, Charles the Meowth staggered along the buildings, clutching his broken ribs, trying his best not to close his jaw. After the licking, it had begun to horribly throb; if he didn't leave it open and tried to close it, he'd feel a sharp stinging and would immediately slack it. His ribs were okay, he just couldn't breathe too much or move them around. His hip was actually the best thing of his wounds, as he could move it around without a problem. Occasionally, it would begin a horrible throbbing sensation, but he figured he'd try his best to ignore it.
At the outskirts of the city was a giant field, a moor that had the city's population of berries and flowers growing in two enclosed spaces. Wild Pokemon were welcome to come and feast on the growing berries, because the city was supposed to have a surplus of seeds. As Charles approached said place, his eyes had begun to water from a sudden shock. There was nothing. The grass looked plastic, and everything else was dead. As he stepped from the rough asphalt onto the spongy grass, smudges of green appeared on his paws. It was some kind of paint designed to stick to the grass. Apparently it wanted to stick to his paw pads instead.
I just... I just want... to help a fellow Pokemon. He approached a ditch in the ground where a crater of fresh soil sat alone, neglected. With a hopeful sigh, Charles held his breath and quickly tossed the Oran into the ditch, so as not to inflict more pain upon himself. Gingerly, he got to his knees, and gathered the soil in a nice mound around the berry. I can't deal with this..., his mind told him, so I think I'll sleep. Sleep until I just... die. But... but at least I'll have made some difference. Who knows? Perhaps the townsfolk would even bring back their real grass and take care of their berry and flower patch.
Charles soon drifted, off into a deep sleep. He felt his eyelids plummeting towards each other on both eyes, slowly rendering him toward his death. And no, it wasn't true how when you die, time slows down. You just die. And Charles did just that, sprawled out in some garden some place in Johto.
---------------------------------------------------------
A gasp could be heard from Charles as he awoke, his eyes opening to the cruel world once more. The sky was now clear and blue; it was daytime. Noticing his wounds were bandaged and the blood wiped away, he rose up, hoping to be in someone's house with a beautiful Persian making tea for him who would soon admit that she had been attending to his wounds and he had been out cold for a week somehow. But... no. He wasn't in the garden, he was in tall grass, reminders of his first release into the wild by the government. When he was told to just... go. No food, no water, no shelter, no life, just go. But... if he was alone... who attended to his wounds and brought him out here?
"Ah-!!," came another gasp from him as he crouched downward and checked around him for the kingpin or anyone who wanted to inflict harm upon him.... but, no, again... he was alone. Thick, mustard colored grass surrounding him, the sun blazing overhead, and silence. That's what he had to work with. He pressed on, pushing anything in his way aside, hoping to find some help. There was none.
As he exited the tall weed-field, he heard something that made no sense to him whatsoever, spoken by humans: "Happy Arbor Day!" A small humanlet ran up to him, giggling as he appeared from the grassy mess. She pointed to him and said, "Mommy! It's a Pokemon!" How Patrick understood all of this, he didn't know, because he was clueless. He just understood 'Pokemon' and that was all. Though, by her energy, he could tell she didn't mean any harm. A bigger she-human jogged over to her daughter with a mug of alcoholic substance, probably cider, and knelt down to greet Charles.
"Hi," he said awkwardly, blushing and shrinking. She shrugged and asked him something in her language. Then, she got out a small notepad and drew a sketch; it was him, planting a berry tree, with the humans! Ever since that garden, he felt he wanted to do something to help Pokemon receive nutrition and food, Pokemon like himself. All the human Trainers just came by and plucked the berries and left. There were some that re-planted them, but they were rare. And yes, 'ever since' because he didn't know how long he'd been out for. He nodded vigorously, stepping out of the grass thickets and grabbing as many Oran, Pinap, and Bluk berries as he could and planting them underneath a great oak tree, in ditches of soil already dug out. Observing his surroundings, he noted he was in a giant field, all colored a sickly mustard.
"Thanks!," commented a human... whatever that meant. It must have meant something good, because all of the rest of the humans that were sitting around a cedar picnic table chimed in with praise. Charles just nodded, glad to help be part of the solution, not the problem. His navy eyes scanned each of the humans as the praise died down and the rest of them stopped sipping their cider, returning to work. One human's back pocket made him cringe, though. Hanging out, was a monster of a wallet. It was made of gold, encrusted with rubies, amethysts, obsidians and sapphires, and was fat with money.
Charles' head twitched. Then his body was overwhelmed with a series of violent shudders. Now it was him and the wallet. I have to take it. It's so... shiny... I... I love it. His kleptomania was hoarding his brain all to itself, making his body move slowly toward the disorder's ultimate goal. Charles' eyes went from bright and helpful to dark and scheming. His lips twitched twice, and snaked into a giant grin, exposing all of his teeth, including the one he'd lost in the back. His fists clenched, and his tail curled over, as he reached for the shiny object in desperation. I must have it...Chapter End Notes:E/N: Did you like? :3 Mmmyes, I hope so. You've already read it, so why not review? I'll be doing something in the meantime. *sips tea and crosses leg