Pokemon is a copyright of Nintendo. Pokègirls and Pokèwomen come from the Pokewomon Forum.
"Wild Horses and Pokègirls" is the creation of Metroanime.
It had been a long and humiliating walk. The ache in her lungs and belly didn't deter her, for the ache in her honor drove her on. Defeated, Gong thought of herself disgustedly, By a mere male, and not even a warrior. So I'm not Gong anymore, I'm not me. I'm a thing for him to do with as he wishes. Just like any Pokègirl, a slave. She spotted the Pokècenter and considered for a moment, before abandoning the idea of a night's rest and a Healing cycle. Unless the man is a fool, he would have raised an alarm, she thought, And the trick he used shows he is no fool. The ache in her gut spasmed to true pain, then subsided. He damaged me, and all I managed in return was to amuse him. She'd broken her spear, and felt her soul die as she watched it burn. Then she'd continued on her walk, feeling half a Pokègirl without it.
Another thought nagged at her. Why didn't he try to capture me? she admitted that such an action would have forced her true and complete surrender. Still, the omission hurt worse than having been defeated. A Pokèball would have done it. And rare is the Tamer who can claim to have taken a Pokègirl by himself, let alone a Fighting-type in hand-to-hand. Is he so skilled that I am a valueless failure in his eyes? Are my features so hideous that he has no desire for me? Am I so despicable he could not even be bothered to sell me to another? These and other worries ate at the girl as she walked, aimless. I must trust in fate to lead me to him, or to ignominious death, she thought hopelessly, That is perhaps what I deserve. Maybe all I deserve.
"Back from vacation so soon?" the chief of the Restorations department hailed me as I set back to work, "You really should take all your vacation. Rest and new scenes inspire you to preserve for others what you can -"
"I saw all of new things I wanted to see," I replied, "And I'm only here to finish checking if the new glue is doing as advertised. The last few hours I've been in the stacks doing some research. Personal research."
"I heard. The Rites of Artemis. Those Amazons give all fighting-types a bad name. I ask you, what idiocy do you get from the rules to hunt down a rival and either kidnap or murder them?"
"The Amazons seem to like it," I replied, ignoring her jibes, "My major concern is they haven't caught her."
"One Feral in five counties? The entire Stockton Legion couldn't catch one Feral in all the surrounding territories."
"She wasn't Feral," I told her.
"She will be soon. Pokègirls in the Amazon preserve Tame each other or get Taming Cycles, that's about half as effective as a human Taming them. Add to that she had extremely intimate, close contact with a human male, probably her first, so she probably triggered. Trying to kill someone with your bare hands or a hand weapon is an extremely intimate act. If she hasn't gone Feral by now, she's on a short fuse to go. And if she's never gone Feral before, the crawling emptiness that come with it is something nearly any Pokegirl will do almost anything to avoid. Like fast-onset Alzheimers, you know you were thinking properly only a short time ago," she practically accused me of abandoning the girl to a fate worse than death.
"That assumes she hasn't been Tamed by," I countered, "Or hasn't raped a man before."
"If she'd had a man, she wouldn't be able to participate in the Rites of Artemis. 'Females Unknown to Men' is the first requirement, and Amazons from the Preserve kill female Tamers who beat them. Sometimes while they are Taming them."
I shuddered at that. Especially since it supported most of the research I'd already done.
"I see you finally broke down and got a Pokèball," she said, teasing further, "It's about time. The monthly check is worth the added safety. If you'd had that, you could have just turned her in at a Pokècenter, had them run a Level 5 on her, and she would have made some Tamer very happy."
"How can you talk about erasing somebody's entire life so cavalierly?" I demanded.
"When they try to murder an employee of this library, and a friend, I believe that the person or the personality should be destroyed," she said coldly, "They never have managed to rehabilitate people like that, and they never will. I was a soldier, I was trained to kill, and I fought Mao's forces. Believe me, the person I was in combat could not fit in a polite society, and that still counted as self-defense, me, my friends, my country. But all of that was a learned behavior, and even the trainers put it aside once the fight was over. To pick someone out and murder them, for no reason except pleasure? That is a seriously warped individual."
So I'm not the only seriously warped individual, I thought, At least the way my dad talked about me. I didn't want to argue, so I walked away. I don't need to worry. She's not my responsibility. She knew the risks when she attacked me. It's not my job to save her, infact, I'm prohibited by law from doing that.
I returned to where I had my notes on the Amazons in general, and the Rites of Artemis in particular. I ignored the whispers of gossip about myself from the others. People are always taking about how strange I am, well, let them, I thought, It's not like their opinion really matters to me. Returning all the books to their shelves was child's-play. I've got my notes and another three days off, I thought as I walked back to my townhouse, There's plenty of things to do to ward off an Amazon. All I have to do is do them.
The next three days saw me purchasing the materials I needed. For Amazonchan milk products act as an intoxicant, for Amazonkapoeraas carbonated beverages are alcoholic to them, Amazonlee who eat high sugar foods grow torpid, Amazonwu who get coffee mellow until a torpor is achieved. So some wit made an energy drink, a carbonated coffee with lots of milk, caffeine and sugar: 'Amazon-Bane'. All I need is a delivery system, I thought, Although tricking her into drinking five or ten will do it.
I knew the police and the guard had been alerted, but you have to take protecting yourself into your own hands. Not that they can really be trusted, I thought, After all, is somebody going to kill themselves fighting a crazed Amazon for whom 'Obstacles are for killing' is a watch word? I think not. They'll arrest her afterwards of course, but that means I'll have to stop her until 'afterwards.'
Finally, I returned to work. I liked having the excuse to be away from everybody, but I always thought the books needed me. The knowledge inside them needs to get out to the world, I thought as I worked on a particularly difficult case. Trying to make one decent volume from three very poor quality copies. People left me alone when I worked on special cases. I didn't need their advice or their comments. I'll get the Chief Restorer to check my work when I'm done.
The sound of much breaking glass somewhere in the main library drew my attention instantly. But instead of acting decisively, I thought disdainfully, I freeze. Is she so terrifying? Yes, getting either killed or dragged off to slavery is frightening. So's the idea of murdering someone in cold-blood.
The minutes ticked by and I was almost too frightened to move. I listened, hearing all the sounds that afflicted the library. Drips of water. I have to report those so they don't threaten the books. The creaks and ticks of the massive structure itself as it cooled from the day's heat. Are they in patterns? Could someone predict them to cover their footsteps? I glanced down the corridors that led to the Restorations department. Looking one way, then another, then back. The seconds dragging on to minutes. It's got to be hours by now! Why hasn't anyone come down to check on me? Did she kill everyone and then decided to wait for me to come to her? At a time and place of her choosing? Some sick game she's playing with me?
I don't hear footsteps. Wouldn't I hear footsteps? Would an Amazonwu study ninjistu? All the ninjas were, were people in excellent physical and mental shape, with a whole slew of specialized tools. Specialized weapons!
I steeled myself. I won't run away. Not from this, not from her. I slipped the Pokèball into my pocket and headed up the stairs to the main stacks. On the landing below the main floor, the the sound of glass scraping on the stone flags cause me to freeze and listen. Strain every sound for a pattern while I crept up the last steps.
"Oh look, he missed his coffee, so he came up to see us!" one of the librarians commented dryly, "Stay where you are, unless you want to track spilled coffee all over the halls down there." She indicated the shattered mugs and spreading stain on the stairs as the cleaning crew mopped at the spilled coffee and shattered pottery.
I ignored their frowns and laughter as I retreated to my office. So I overreacted, but did I? She could be crazy enough to try it, if she's gone Feral, she might be that crazy, I reminded myself, I know she would probably be stopped by the guards here or at my townhouse, so it is the walk between here and home that I need to be most worried about. Do I contact the police again? Surely they're out looking for her. Unless they don't care, or have something more important to deal with. They probably do. So what do I do? I can't just kill her. My hand closed on the Pokèball. That will be the answer. She'll be somebody else's problem.
She had trouble thinking. It had been growing worse and worse, until she could barely remember when her mind hadn't been fogged, only there had been a time when it wasn't. She hated not knowing why her hand felt so empty. Herowu doesn't know, she thought, Herowu needs! Not even know what needs, but needs so bad. Empty, hurt, makes belly pain welcome. Drives away head pain, soul pain.
The building stirred a recollection in her. Herowu remembers, she thought, Good Pokègirls not think good go in, can think when come out. Herowu is good Pokègirl, so will work.
She stumbled into the building, and stared at the pink-haired Pokègirl. "Fix please," she said. Need be polite, good Pokègirl is polite, she thought, straining to remember why the Pink-haired Pokegirl could help her, Knew once, why not know now?
"Have you lost your master?" the girl asked.
It was all Herowu could do to keep from bursting into tears. She managed a nod. Master, is gone Master hurts so bad, she thought, nearly collasping to her knees as the pain found its focus.
"And you can't find him?" the pink-haired girl asked.
Herowu shook her head. "Fix please," she requested.
"It's all right." The red light enveloped her and she vanished.
The NurseJoy looked at the readout indicating the girl was safely in the Pokèball and in the Taming chamber. "Poor thing," she said to herself as she increased the Taming to level two. She deserves a good time after searching for her Master so hard, she thought. Then she saw something in the readouts that made her frown. She got hurt along the way, she considered the readings, Either she got beat up pretty bad, or . . . something. I can't imagine a Herowu who wouldn't have a weapon, that's probably what caused the problem. She got hurt and lost her weapon, and was separated from her Master when she went searching. She smiled and patted the machine. "Don't worry. I'll help you find him." Then she frowned. "If he's still alive. A Herowu is rare enough, and valuable enough, I can't imagine a Tamer simply letting one get lost if he, or she, had any choice in the matter."
She activated the picture phone and saw a familiar Officer Jenny on the other end. "Oh Jenny, what a Joy!" she said cheerfully, slightly exasperating the Jenny on the other end, "I think someone may have gotten hurt or lost in the hills. I've got a fighting-type who wandered in nearly Feral, and she'd been beaten up. Unless you've got a Tamer frantically searching for her, then we may have a Tamer just as hurt in the foothills."
"There's been some poachers up there, catching fish with explosives. It could be one of them didn't throw it right."
"That may be," the Joy considered, "I still think a search is needed."
"For more reasons than one," the Jenny added grimly, "There's a crazy Amazonwu up there who attacked someone. If your patient and her Tamer got in the wu's way . . . " The Jenny shrugged.
The Joy nodded and cut the connection. Coming out of a nice long Level 2 will make her willing to answer my questions. I think I'll give her double the usual time, and a sleep cycle in the middle so she'll be rested, but still loquacious. The Joy smiled at her cleverness as she watched several grav cycles and a grav truck of Growlies and Tigresses head down the road up into the hills.
'Look at her,' I heard the excited shout from two teen-aged boys who must have been standing infront of the book store I frequent. "That chainmail shirt and skirt!" they shouted, their voices over lapping.
That got my instant attention.
"And that blue hair! I wonder if it's all blue!"
Terror clutched my chest. She's found me, I thought as I crept towards the corner where the two boys stood. Maybe they'd got Pokègirls, maybe they'll have a chance!
"Could we catch her?" they asked each other as they stared into store's front window.
Yes. YES! I tried not to shout, She must be inside, standing right behind the new book displays and their tacky advertising gimmicks. I hate those cardboard stand ups of authors and characters.
"You kidding," one boy said to the other, "She's got a collar, and what chance would our girl have against her."
No, no, no, no! I thought as I reversed direction and headed down another street. Of course she'd affect a collar, I thought, cursing my stupidity, So she could blend in. She's only a few blocks from my house! I think taking that temporary job in Bastion might not be a bad idea. Let her lose me, then follow my trail down there, while I come back here. On foot she can't walk the entire length of the continent and back in less than a month, and she's bound to be caught by somebody on her trek!
I slipped past her as she waited in the bookstore to ambush me, and made my way to my townhouse. There I made sure I was packed and ready for a long trip.
The euphoric state of endlessly praising and dreaming about her Master came to an abrupt end as she formed out of red light. She stood near the NurseJoy who she'd asked for the Taming cycle. The Herowu reeled as if she'd had too much coffee, her mind still coping with the sudden change.
"Your Master, he was fishing, right?" the NurseJoy asked.
The Herowu nodded. Without my Master, without a name, who am I? she thought, her mind awhirl.
"Fishing," she stammered.
"He was blast fishing, big splash, lots of bubbles?"
"Splash, bubbles," she managed. My head's clearing, because I know my Master doesn't want me. I know he threw me away, because I wasn't good enough, she thought, Why does she want me to live through that again? NO! I failed the Rite of Artemis, I will not fail my Master by taking my life!
"So," the NurseJoy said exultantly, "He was a poacher, and you were hurt in his . . ."
Herowu heard no more from the pink-haired Pokègirl as she ran from the Pokècenter and out onto the street. She fought back her tears as the pain of loss nearly overwhelmed her. "No! I'll prove it, I'll prove I love you!"
Inside, the NurseJoy frowned, but knew she had her answers. She contacted the police. "I have more information. Look for someone who registered a TyAmazon some time ago, and has some experience with fights or Gym Battles. She showed up as a Herowu, and I've never seen one without a weapon before. But she's desperate to find her Master, so either she thinks he's got her weapon,. or she's got a strong bond with him."
"Wouldn't that bond let her figure out where he is?" the Jenny asked.
"Not if he's as hurt as I think he might be. We've still got time. If he was dead, then she'd know and would have reacted differently."
The Jenny at the other end nodded and closed the connection. You'll be back, the Joy thought, This isn't a very big town, but a person could disappear here very easily. Almost as easy as up in the hills.